He muttered something so low that I didn’t hear when I looked back to him, his demeanor had changed. What I felt just moments ago was nothing compared to the one I feel right now. My mouth moistens as if I could taste it.
It was because of the same lethal look he had in his eyes when he tried and failed to kill me, though he seemed more deranged then than now.
At this very moment, he is staring me down with such clarity in his eyes that is far worse than the unhinged glassy gaze he had as he held me underwater by my neck, both caressing and choking at the same time.
Why does he hate me so much?
I tried speaking. But my voice got caught in my throat.
He pinned me with those blue eyes which seemed more vibrant in contrast to his dark features. More beautiful than how mine would seem like though the same shade because they looked washed out on my complexion.
He reached his arm out and my stomach did a flip when his finger touched the bridge of my glasses. He pushed it up my nose and tapped his finger on my forehead lightly.
“No need to worry about them, anymore, little nymph.”
He was about to add something but paused, taking a deep breath that warmed my face. That was how close he was standing to me.
He shook his head, leaned down to retrieve his jacket where he threw it, and surprised me when he held it out to me.
Between his touch and calling me nymph – no mistake on that one now, he didn’t call me by the other dreadful word – my brain was still processing the meaning of it all, body as equally frozen at it thought of a way to how to respond to such unusual, unexpected situation, so I just stood there until his chest rumbled deeply in annoyance and as if he doesn’t have an other choice, roughly draped the soft, thick material of the blazer that is so not his style, over my shoulder.
Then Abe, being the enigma that he is, grunted as the yanked open the door and left me standing on the rooftop with more questions than I could answer, just as the gray clouds thicken and the first claps of thunder could be heard not far from the horizon.
I just about slammed straight into Harry’s chest the second I took the last step of the stairs. His hands curled around my forearms tightly, his breathing was ragged, eyes wide with panic.
I opened my mouth to question him but what he did next shocked me more than Abe’s actions, more than anything ever, really.
Before I could speak, his mouth descended on mine, soft lips pressing firmly, moving to fit so perfectly with my own.
My eyes were bulging out of their sockets and my mind went blank before it went to overdrive. I can’t believe this is happening.
This couldn’t be real, can it?
Harry’s kissing me.
I’m kissing Harry.
I’m kissing Harry.
He grabbed the back of my head with one hand, fingers curling into my hair, and slanted his head, opening my mouth and slipping in his tongue in.
My first kiss and I’m already Frenching.
My eyelids have long since drooped, not entirely closed but suspended between fluttering and opening back up.
Trapped between waking up and reality.
Perhaps this is a daydream and I have hit my head more seriously than I thought and I’m only hallucinating this fantasy that I’ve been dreaming about since
I’ve learned what pleasure is.
That day my carnal needs were heated.
The first time I touched myself.
With thoughts of him.
Yet his hands burned me when his hold became tighter, his kisses went deeper. That bulge poking at my stomach felt heavy and warm that a moan tore out of my mouth unconsciously, swallowed by his exploring mouth followed by a frustrated groan.
This right here wasn’t just on my mind.
And with this clarity came a flood of questions, a great deal of doubt and confusion. A single hope bordering on desperation.
I’ve loved him for a long time, could be love me just the same?
Or this means something else entirely? Harry had always protected me, treated me like I was something precious and did everything to make me happy. He’d always go out of his way to comfort me but none of his touches were like this.
His teeth bit onto my bottom lip and I whimper, fingers curling on his hard shoulders. I could feel myself becoming more and more sensitive, my core tightening painfully. The heat is starting to be unbearable.
No, cousins don’t kiss like this.
This was not meant to only be just for comfort.
I pried my tingling lips from him, needing to breathe, and he let me, nuzzling his head low on the crook of my neck.
“You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, Callie, understand?” He breathed the command on my exposed skin, the jacket draped over me had already fell on the floor. His huge hands run along the length of my back, over my hips and waist, then back again.
Both of our breathing were labored, my glasses fogging ever so lightly as I exhaled. I’m not sure I can steady my breaths with my chest pressed so tightly on his hard one let alone give him an answer.
I was speechless, breathless, with my lips feeling so hot they’re most likely swollen.
What a first kiss.
Harry pulled back and gazed deeply into my eyes, something about the way he looked at me makes me want to melt. As always.
He dipped his head again and in the back of my mind I know he was about to go for another kiss, but a voice halted his head inches away from mine.
We both snapped our heads to the side to see a figure staring at us with quizzical eyes darting from Harry then to me, and back at him again.
I’m not sure how much they saw but they weren’t running away in disgust so that’s a good sign. Though what I felt afterwards was.
I felt disgusted at myself for even thinking about Harry the way I did. If anyone ever saw, what would they think of me? What would they think of Harry?
His image would be ruined, and his reputation crushed.
Doing well in school and being a star athlete would be insignificant. It would dirty his name and what will be his chances in getting a scholarship in college? How he wanted to help Aunt Lou wouldn’t matter anymore.
God, Aunt Lou.
Everyone in our family would be beyond repair if they even knew about this.
What more if things didn’t just end in a single kiss?
What would he do if he’d known? Will he even react? Why do I care whether he did or not?
I pushed myself from Harry’s arms and he immediately grabbed my wrist. I peeked from under my eyelashes, cheeks burning at even looking him in the eye after what we shared, as he gave me a quick shake of his head.
He stepped in front of me, and I gratefully fell behind him, shame pounding against every corner of my body. Hurt spreading from my chest outwards and threatening to make itself tangible through my watering eyes.
I tried to blink fast and tilt my head up the ceiling to keep them from falling.
Harry began to address the girl standing in front of us.