“Look, come here.”
He grabs my wrist suddenly and pulls me out of the seat.
“W-What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”
“Shut up.”
“I-I… No! Let go of me!”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Look. Here, look at this.”
He holds the book out to my face. “What’s this?”
“A cat, what do you think?”
I glare at him wordlessly.
“Well? Read it, will you?”
“What do you want from me?” I whisper.
“Nothing.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Wait, no,
well, that’s a lie.”
I’m taken aback. “Oh.”
He thrusts the hardback into my lap impatiently. “Go on.”
“What do you want from me then?”
“The truth?”
I’m intrigued. “Yes?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” He’s leaning into me, his hand
still on the book that lies in my lap now. I can almost feel the heat of his
breath on my cheeks.
“Y-yeah,” I breathe hesitantly.
“The truth is…”
I hold my breath in anticipation.
“I want your number and virginity.”
I’m struck numb for a moment. I then grasp the hardback in
my hands, wrenching it from his in the process, and start hitting him in the
shoulder with it as hard as I can.
“You’re such a pervert!”
“What? You wanted the truth.”
“J-Jerk!”
He’s smiling to himself, which makes me hit him even harder.
“Stop that!”
“What?”
“Smiling!”
“That’s mean. You don’t want me to be happy?”
“That’s not what I… Shut up!” I enunciate this with another
hard hit with the book. He just laughs.
“So you do want to make me happy?”
“W… What?”
“Do you want to please me?”
I pause in my beating, scrutinising him cautiously. He
smirks at me.
“You’re so annoying!”
He laughs, his voice a teasing chuckle. “Can you stop
hitting me?”
“No!”
“Please?”
“No, jerk!”
“Would you like me to get on my knees?”
“To… to what!?”
“I’m not usually one to grovel, but you bring out the worst
in me.”
My breathing’s heavy and I can feel my cheeks burning. I can
see him laughing at me as his eyes skim over my face. His smile gentles and his
gaze finds mine.
I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry over the fact
that he can make me feel so much.
I look up to see him looking at me with a fond expression,
and I find myself smiling back shyly.
I hand the book back to him, a little sheepish.
“You wanted to show me something?”
He laughs. “You ready for this? It’s pretty revolutionary.”
I raise an eyebrow sceptically. “It’s a thesaurus.”
He grins at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Precisely.”
He flips through it until he comes to the right page.
“Alright, here.” He reaches out, takes my hand softly, and guides my finger
down the page, skimming to the next page.
I’m hyperaware of how close we’re sitting. I could lean
forward and kiss his neck if I wanted to. And it’s weird because I can almost
imagine doing it. What would he smell like?
I’m brought back from my thoughts when he says, “Here we
go.”
He looks up at me, almost challenging. “Read this,” he tells
me, placing the book in my lap. His hand stays there, his palm resting every so
lightly on my thigh.
I’m a little shaky.
“Um, okay,” I mumble, my eyes leaving his face and following
his – my – finger to the word he’s
found.
“Difference?” I ask quietly.
“No, not that one.” His breath dusks my check as he leans
forward, pointing to the word below. “This one.”
“Di…” My voice trails off as I read the word. “Different?”
“Hmm,” he says. I can feel the weight of his body leaning
slightly against mine, the heat that just seems to intensify, the wonderfully
terrifying butterflies in my stomach.
I gulp slightly, and clear my throat, taking a deep breath.
“Okay.”
“Hey,” he cuts me off before I’ve even started, and I look
up at him with a start.
We’re so close, if
he just leaned forward, if I just tilted my head… My eyes lower to his lips,
and my breath wavers. “Hmm?”
“Shall I start?” I can see his gaze flit down to my lips just
for a moment before he looks up at my eyes again. It’s crazy how I could not
notice what a dark grey they are, almost brown in their darkness.
He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead leans even closer to
me. His eyes are focused on the pages below us.
His breath, minty and musky and warm, brushes my cheek. Some
of my hair falls onto his shoulder as I tilt my head to look down, too.
“Different,” he begins. His voice is deep and low, quiet and
strong. I can feel it vibrate from his body to mine, noticeable yet not quite
there. “Adjective. Distinct, nonidentical, separate, un-like; contradistinct,
contrary.”
He pauses from breath, and I find myself reading aloud
before he can resume.
“Contrasted, deviating, disagreeing, dis-disc…”
I can almost feel his smile. “Discrepant. Weird word, I
know.”
“Hmm,” I agree, smiling too.
“Keep going,” he encourages me.
“Um… Discrepant, dissimilar, divergent, diverse.
Incompatible…” I pause slightly, my breath a little shaky. “Incongruous,
un-like, variant, various. Divers, heterog…”
“Heterogeneous,” he fills in for me.
“Sorry,” I murmur, looking down at the page. “Not the
smartest.”
“Don’t wanna hear it,” he says, his voice low and soothing.
“You’re a clever girl.”
I smile a small grin just for myself, and keep reading.
“Manifold. Varied. Many, and sundry.”
There’s silence in the room, and yet I can hear his
breathing so clearly in my ear.
“Do you get what I’m trying to tell you here, Holly?” he
whispers to me quietly.
I don’t say anything; my throat’s all closed up. The butterflies
are countless and overwhelming and he’s so warm against me.
“This book lists all the meanings of the word ‘different’.”
I’m breathing too loudly.
“Holly?” he murmurs.
“Hmm?” I turn to face him, and I find myself staring into
his concerned eyes. My voice is too high. I sound close to tears, and I have no
idea why but I’m terrified that my eyes will fill up.
“Holly, not once in this book,” – he takes the book from my
lap with one hand, the other still against my thigh, his eyes still boring into
mine – “not once, does it say that
different means wrong.”
I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding, and to my
mortification, I sound close like I’m about to cry.
He places the book down on the bed behind him, and brings
his hand up to my face. He cups my cheek warmly, searing into my skin.
I can’t bring myself to look away his gaze, my eyes huge.
His gaze flits down to my lips again, and he doesn’t look
away. A corner of his lips rise in a slight smirk. “I told myself not to do
this.”
My breath is undeniably wavering; I sound overwhelmed. The
words come out before I’m aware I’ve said anything.
“Do it.”
He looks back up at me for a split second, and I could have
sworn I saw his eyes crinkle as he grinned.
And then, the world stood still for just a moment, just for
me.
Because then – with the book on the bed and butterflies in
my mind – I shared my first kiss with
Josh Hunter.
