She’d thought she was sober. But his hand ia on her back so, so softly, moving, urging her just a little closer. Then his mouth is warm and wet and just want she wants, tasting like booze and boy and just a little bit of smoke. She can’t remember moving forward or tilting her lips to his but it doesn’t matter. All that matters right now is the warmth of him: his mouth, his arms, his breath. The room and all its occupants swirl around them, voices become disjointed snippets that are very far away.
“Wow. Look at them go.”
“Stop her….c’mon, you’re her best friend. Stop her.”
That voice is more familiar, but still unimportant it just blends with the voice of reason within her that frantically warns her to stop because everyone can see. It's all just background hum as his hand slides under her top and his fingers shimmy over her back, making her throb all over and crave more. More closeness, more darkness, more of him.
The room is spinning gently around them but it could be the booze. She knows she’ll regret this, long before morning, but she throws reason and safety far away and leans farther into the kiss. She thinks, ‘It doesn’t matter, you’re drunk. And this is so warm and nice and thrilling and safe.' She’s falling, falling into that chasm of loneliness, libation, and lust. She’s absorbed now, in the careless press of mouth on mouth. The swirl of the room is gone from her mind, turned into a meaningless vibration, as the reason within her is gone, drowned out with strong hands that make her feel oh so delicate and protected.
She’s been needing this escape, this way out of herself, out of her constant insecurity. She knows this will lead her nowhere good, just more rejection and unrequited feelings, but needs it right now, in this moment, this night.
His arm around her is so solid, so strong. It makes her heart thrum like madness. She’d never thought about this boy, in this way: never thought of his lips on hers, his arms around her, his hands on her. But now, in this haze, his lips are driving her concerns away, his taste and smell are filling her up, flowing into all those hollow needy places.
There’s a voice now, insistent. She can’t drown it out, can’t ignore it. It’s her best friend and her voice is high and perky with worry. That voice, that tone is calling her, saying her name, asking her to come away. So badly she wants to ignore it, ignore the concerned summons to reality, to the familiar house party filled with familiar people. She can’t, she’s pulled to obey by the leash of duty, friendship, and reason. She pulls back, already wishing she wasn’t, that she could remain just a bit longer, and breaks the kiss. She scrambles for something to say, some explanation or farewell to give but finds nothing. She contorts her swollen lips into a smile, filled with all the shyness and doubt that is already flooding back. She turns away, hurrying off to plop down beside her friend on the already crowded couch. She resists the urge to wipe her mouth, barely, and smiles brightly.
Her friend frowns at her. No doubt she sees the dazzling smile and knows it’s a lie, a mask against worry, confusion, hurt.
“We should go.”
She can’t help it, her smile droops. She looks around, hair sailing, until she sees him, the one she wishes she were still so very close to. He smiles, lifts a hand in a bare wave. She doesn’t want to leave.
“Okay. Now?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Knowing she’ll be leaving, leaving him here with all her stupid, pointless romance. Knows it’s better this way, that she only ever gets herself hurt. Knows her friend is taking care of her, protecting her from the inevitable ache.
They get up, disentangle themselves from the bodies around them on the couch, and turn toward the door. She goes down the dark hallway, into a bedroom. Coats are piled on the bed. She finds hers and her friend’s. Walks back to the door. He’s there, listening to some one maybe, but looking at her as she walks toward him out of the dim passage. She thinks she should smile but can’t seem too, can only hold his gaze. Whoever is between them laughs and wanders off, punching his shoulder. She can’t tell who it is, or what they’re laughing over.
“Bye.” His voice is rough wood against her. She wants him to keep talking, say something else, anything else to keep her here.
She opens her arms and stretches up onto her toes to hug him. She allows her eyes to close, just for a second, and basks in his closeness. Her eyes open, he kisses her. She is so frozen, so warm. She doesn’t want to leave.
Her friend is standing just behind him, nodding toward the door. Her feet move backwards, she still can’t smile. He’s still staring, she’s still staring back.
Her friend is holding her arm, turning her toward the door, breaking the stare. The cold night air hits her lungs.
She doesn’t want to leave.