old: a little game called love

“I’m tired.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I’m tire –”

“I heard you.”

The man glared at me viciously, trying to look me in the eye.

I held his beady blue-eyed gaze for a few seconds, then shrugged at him carelessly and went back to my book.

‘ “Harry Potter!”

Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dream –’

A hand slammed down onto the counter in front of me. Uhh… Why the hell did am I working in a B&B Inn anyway?

I looked up again, my expression ludicrously bored.

“Look!” he grumbled furiously. “I’ve just been on a plane for eleven hours, I clocked out of an airport three hours ago, and have been waiting in THAT freakin’ snow storm for half of the time for a cab, and now you’re telling me that my booked room isn’t AVAILABLE!” he raged, practically shouting at me in the end.

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a very good way to start conversation.”

I swear, his eyes bulged bigger than his glasses. And was that steam coming out of his ears?

Ooops.

“Give me my fucking room!” he screamed. Such a polite man.

Like he read my thoughts, his hand slammed down on the counter, making me jump a bit. "Now. I'm not in the best mood."

I frowned. “Dude, not my problem.”

He leaned forward menacingly. “I’m warning you –”

“I’m warning YOU," I cut him off warningly, "as an employee, I have the right to ask anyone to leave.”

He pushed the glasses up his ruddy face. “And what if I don’t?” he asked challengingly.

“Then I’ll just get have to make you leave.” This guy was REALLY getting on my nerves now.
I stood up from my desk, and putting my hands on the counter, I flexed my left arm and vaulted my body of the counter in a sort of elevated cartwheel.
Looking up, I noticed that the man was standing with his mouth agape, suitcase lying on the floor and papers fluttering out of his slack hand.
“Wh…H-How di…” he stammered incoherently, his still-bulging eyes blinking rapidly.
Like a toad! I snorted as a smirk found it's way to my face. Hadn’t this guy heard of gymnastics before?
“Yeah, I’m bendy,” I elaborated for him while rolling my eyes, before putting a hand on my hip, intimidating him on a laughable level.
“Get. Out,” I demanded, my voice low and hostile.
He just stared at me.
My eyes narrowed, and I jerked a thumb towards the exit. “Now would be nice.” Obviously thinking better of what he was going to say, the fat business-man hurriedly picked up his suitcase and practically scampered out the door.

I folded my arms and chuckled to myself. What a wuss.

“Zelleph Lynx!”

 “Yahhh….?” I called, spinning round slowly to see my manager, Taylor Philips, walking my way.

“What did you just do? He was a customer!” he asked me condescendingly.

“Well, he wouldn’t go away, Phil!” I moaned to him. He smiled slightly, his eyes wandering round the room.

“Phil, I hate working here,” I started, about to reveal my resignation. “So I qui… Where are you staring?”

“Er…Zell?” His eyes were frozen on the clock. My eyes widened.

“…O, crap...”

I met his gaze for a second. He nodded, grinning at me, before turning and changing the sign to ‘close’ on the B&B door.

I grabbed my satchel and made a beeline for the door.

“Bye, Zelleph! I’ll see you tomorrow!” He chuckled as I raced past him.

“Later, Phil,” I called, already out the door.

old: a thesaurus and a kiss

“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.