23 | Wanting you
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I almost choke on my drink.
After a double take I actually do choke.
I cough, sputtering a little in a stupidly embarrassing way that makes my sister actively stop participating in a conversation and whip her head around to face me.
I drop the phone down immediately, clicking off the screen.
"What's up with you?" Riley chimes, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
I shake my head dismissively, "Nothing, I just... drank too fast."
What sort of shitty excuse is that?
She chuckles at that though, muttering something about me being an idiot before launching back into her dramatic re-telling of a story.
She doesn't know it feels like there's a fire in my hand right now, a burning, swirling bundle of something that shouldn't be happening. But fuck, am I happy it is.
After another second of standing, frozen with that photo already slipping from my head I move into another, quieter room. It's empty, noises muffled behind the door as I close it, but it doesn't make me feel any less exposed.
I can barely believe this happening, my brain convinced I'm so obsessed with my sister's best friend that I've completely lost it. Am I fucking dreaming right now?
But no, when I click on that screen the photo is there. Sent to me. Underneath is that unassuming caption suggesting so much more than it seems.My present to you. Merry Christmas.
I can take it in properly now, ingrain every inch of it into my brain, nestle it there forever.
My eyes follow her beautiful waves, blonde and fanned out in a way that they frame every perfect.
feature. Those pools of blue shine, laced with an alcohol-induced haze.
It's like I can feel her gaze blinking back at me through the screen.
I'd be lying if I said my eyes didn't linger in certain places longer than others. Her finger between her teeth, between her lips - so fucking hot in a way I haven't seen before. That attraction burns brighter when I remember this is for me, just for me.
Ava, the girl trying to avoid every ounce of my affection, has shown me her weakness.
Now I know, for certain, that this isn't one-sided. She feels the same things I do, is holding back for any other reason than wanting me. And that realisation crashes into me, a new wave of desire that makes the things keeping us apart seem obsolete.
Then there's the lower half, her cleavage, boobs focused in a way that draws obvious attention. Perfect, like the rest of her. The unrestrained part of me runs wild. I want to kiss her there, suck on her nipples, cherish her skin, litter her with marks that would make her mine.
It's like she's trying to fucking kill me.
And now I'm hard. Alone, in a room in my family home, with a bunch of people next door. But I can't stop staring at the girl on the screen, can't stop the thoughts making my cock twitch beneath me. I haven't even ever touched her and she's making my body ache in a way it never has.
Maybe she's a bit drunk, but so am I. And drunk words are sober thoughts, right? Or drunk texts, in this case.
I exhale heavily, hissing through my teeth for a minute.
Even without looking the image nestles itself in my brain, I don't think I'll ever be able to not think of it now.
But that doesn't help with my stupid fucking boner because apparently around her I have the self-restraint of my 15 year old self.
It takes a while longer of thinking of the most unappealing, non-sexy things I possibly can to get my dick to calm down, at least to a level where it's not glaringly obvious. I readjust myself, taking one more breath before re-entering that room.
I'm immediately hit with Riley and the girl with curly hair halfway through singing Last Christmas with the enthusiasm and skill-level of children.
I wince involuntarily, though it does help rid me of any lingering thoughts.
Cole flashes a smile, seemingly a lot more sober than the others.
That must explain why Riley's been in a good mood recently.
Alex is humming along to the singing, arm slung over Ava as he gives me a levelled look. Not outright judgement but something else, like he doesn't necessarily trust me. It's weird, a guard he puts up sometimes. It's clear he has some one-sided affection for Ava. A childish crush.
Does he really think I'm going to do something to her? He has no authority to be so protective, always lingering at the edge of our conversations. I'm also immediately irked by him touching her, squeezing her tighter the second I move into the room. He doesn't fucking own her.
"Come join!" Riley giggles halfway through the chorus, motioning with her hand.
I shake my head, struggling to drag my eyes from Ava. She's not looking at me, laughing and falling into Alex's shoulder as he whispers something inaudible over the music. My jaw clenches, chest tightens suddenly. I care too much. I'm too bothered. I might actually be fucking jealous.
"You're so boring," Riley slurs, throwing a look before continuing her tirade.
But I'm not listening to her, or any of that. My mind is only on the girl on the couch, tucked under the arm of another guy. She didn't send him that photo, doesn't look at him the way she looks at me.
I'm stalking across the room before I can help it, passing Ava and Alex intentionally.
I catch her eye, her gaze heavy with knowing.
No one else can feel it, knows what's hovering beneath the surface.
Her face doesn't twitch, in fact her smile towards Alex actually drops.
But her eyes say it all, are overwhelmed with tangled attraction.
By the time I've grabbed another drink, intent on washing away every ounce of my tormenting feelings, we're fully staring at each other across the room.
Then she does smile, a little.
A curl of the lips laced with whatever addicting quality she captured in that photo.
It makes me an even weaker man.
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The house is much, much quieter. Riley's friends went home an hour or two ago. I was supposed to go home, too, but turns out you can't do that if you drink a fuck-ton of alcohol. My head is too scrambled to do much but lay on this couch.
Things wound down, my parents retreating to their usual early bedtimes which means they were fast asleep a long time ago. Ava's still here, sleeping upstairs somewhere with Riley.
I didn't talk to her at all since I gave her that gift, instead our communication was the same excruciatingly painful glances across the room.
When she got drunk enough to dance with her friends I watched, as much as I could without it seeming weird.
She smiled at me, thick with knowing. All I could see was thatphoto.
But then it got later, and she got more sober, and the glances stopped. Her cheeks went red and that part of her trying to stop all of this slowly came back. I don't know what hurt more, her not acknowledging me or driving me to the edge of insanity with those looks.
Riley let me crash on the couch but didn't tell my parents, clearly pissed about my drinking.
I might have set back our progress because all I could think about was Ava.
Not having Ava.It's not like I want to be trapped in the confines of this house, unable to sleep and already feeling the first effects of a looming hangover.
There was no way I was going anywhere near my old room, though. The one stupid hurdle that's too hard to stomach. Being here overnight is already killing me, I spent a good chunk of time high, watching this ceiling above me spin.
I open my phone and it flashes with the time. 2:31am.
I can't sleep. I should've tried harder when the alcohol was still making the world seem far away. Now my brain is aching, eyelids heavy.
The window with the photo is still on the screen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, finger between her teeth. That red, lace bra framing her cleavage. Fuck. I've had girls send me photos, much more explicit ones, but nothing has ever captured my attention like this.
I can't have her and yet she's making it so damn difficult not to want her.
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door opening and when I pull the phone down from my face the exact same girl is standing opposite me.
She blinks, visibly annoyed, more caught off-guard.
"What...?" Ava hisses, quiet in the dark room, our two screens the only things lighting it, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
I clear my throat to find a voice, "Sleeping."
She's not happy with that response. Her eyes narrow, nose-scrunching. Her hair has been put into loose plaits either side of her face, framing the slightly tired look in her eyes. It's cute.
She stays still, looking at me like a stranger, "You're not supposed to be here."
I shrug, pushing myself up onto my elbows, the rest of my body stretched across the couch.
From here I can get a better view of her, scan her small, strawberry-pattern tank top and pyjama shorts.
She's still a partial silhouette but I know immediately those shorts are gonna be a problem for my wandering eyes.
"What are you doing down here?" I ask, watching as she moves further into the room, clearly looking for something.
She ignores me, switching the screen glare for the flashlight on the back of her phone. The light trails across the floor, making its way to the armchair. Ava stops, picking something up and turning back around. She's forced to make eye contact with me again.
My eyes flash down, "Your book?"
"Shhh," She hisses, gesturing to the people sleeping upstairs. I hadn't realised my voice wasn't whispered like hers.
A small smile slips through my lips, a sort of apology. I should be more considerate but no one else exists when I'm talking to her, not really.
"I couldn't sleep," She murmurs, "Thought reading could help."
I nod in understanding but my gaze directs itself downwards again, towards whatever romance book she's lost in. Though this time, with the new light, I see the top of something sticking out of it. A bookmark. My bookmark.
She clocks my moment of realisation, frowning the second I go to open my mouth. Something possessive in me explodes, rushes with that weird need to make her happy. My bookmark. Mine.
"This doesn't mean anything, Winters," She asserts through another little whisper, storming back towards the door she came through.
I catch her arm instinctively as she passes, bringing her to a stop. It doesn't hurt her but she can't get out of it. She confirms that by spinning around, eyebrows furrowed at me in the partial darkness. Her skin touching mine shoots sparks through my veins.
Silence spreads for a second.
"We need to talk," I say, quiet but firm.
She scoffs, weakly attempting to free herself. It doesn't work.
"There's nothing to talk about," Her words are laced with sarcasm, echoing what I said to her when she tried to bring up my past.
I attempt to give her a softer look, despite my grip on her skin keeping her beside me.
We do have to talk. She knows that, but avoidance seems to be her favourite tactic.
My entire evening was thrown off course by that photo she sent me, we were closer than ever in my apartment - it actually feels like we have everything to talk about.
"Ava," I say. Her name, a command, almost like I'm echoing a prayer.
Her face sours, then relaxes, weakness pouring through the features I can see. Her eyes sparkle with reluctance, lips pushed into a flat line.
"If I talk... will you let go of me?" She asks, although her tone is pretty strong for a question. She's still being stubborn, even when she surrenders to me. It somehow makes me like her more.
I nod, watching my own fingers gently unclasp from her skin. The skin fades back to its usual shade, a very faint red outline resting on her lower arm. The mark only makes my eyes linger, stomach twist with need. I want to touch her like that all the time.
She makes me more possessive than I've ever been.
Thankfully, she doesn't take it as a chance to escape, watching as I sit up fully. She perches down beside me, barely on the couch like being too close to me will kill her. Now I'm taller than her again, blinking down into those mesmerising pools of blue.
"My apartment," I start, "Before you freaked out."
She shakes her head, "It shouldn't have happened. We can't..."
"Can't kiss?" I say, filling in the blank, "Because that's what happened. We almost kissed."
She looks at me like it's processing for the first time, like she's been thinking about it for two weeks yet hearing me say it, admit it, is what makes it real. Her body stiffens slightly, eyes glazed over with conflicting emotion. Her lips part, then close again without a sound.
"Ava...I wanted that, more than anything," My breath reduces to a whisper. The truth is spilling out of me faster than I can contain it, "And you wanted it to."
She shakes her head, looking down dismissively. Still, no words, just silence. It's not a no to wanting it, it's a no to everything else. To what comes with it, the stupid tangled mess between us.
"I get that it's scary, but it is real," I murmur, shuffling a little closer towards her, "You're driving me fucking crazy, you have been for weeks."
When she says nothing again, my hand snakes it's way up to her chin, gently tilting her head upwards. She doesn't protest, letting our skin touch. Her pupils meet mine intensely, blinking at me with something so deep I can't decipher it.
"I'm not supposed to want this," She mutters eventually, gaze not breaking for a second, "It's wrong."
"Why? Because my sister said so?"
"Yes, Nolan," She sighs, "Because of your sister, because you're involved with scary people, because it would fuck everything up."
Maybe I should be focusing on her reasoning but my brain is attached to how she said my name, the syllables from her lips. She doesn't say it often, never as soft as she just did. It embarrassingly goes straight to my cock.
I search her eyes, face still held up by my hand. Her beauty has put that spell over me, made her the only person on earth worth looking at. My chest stirs.
"But is it what you want?" I ask, gently, "Forget everything else...do you want to kiss me?"
She gulps, frozen for a second. I can see her thoughts battling in her head, the good side of her slowly slipping away. She deserves to be selfish, deserves to want things.
Then, she nods, "Yes."
A single word. An admittance.
It's out loud, two confessions, two people who are seemingly closer than they were a minute ago. A warped, dirty secret that feels so wrong but so fucking right.
The hand not beneath her chin moves forwards, very slowly sliding its way onto her lower thigh. Gentle, suffocatingly gradual touch that quenches the ache that plagues me. Her skin, against mine, burning touch. I slide it a little higher, fingers spread out, resting possessively.
Her breath audibly hitches at the contact, eyes flicking down to stare at it for a moment. Almost delayed, her pupils move up to look at me again. There's a layer of something new, desire, lust. It hurts her, but she wants this.
My hand falls and I lean in slowly, slotting my head beside her ear. The side of her face almost touches me. I can hear her small exhales. Tensions simmers as she stays frozen still.
"You are a fucking tease, pretty girl," I hum, "Sending me that photo...do you know what that did to me?"
Any composure I had is gone. She is my pretty girl, she does drive me crazy - and I want her to know it. I want her to know that whatever this is, it's worth breaking stupid, weird rules.
When I pull away and look at her, her cheeks are burning. Her chest rises heavier, skin flames under my hand on her thigh. She looks pretty and vulnerable and perfect all at once. I've always liked teasing her but this is a new level.I've never enjoyed it more.
"I thought you didn't do quiet anymore?" I mutter, suddenly missing her voice.
"I'm not kissing you."
My high crashes, composure in my face breaking for a moment.
Wait, what?
"I want to...I feel the things you do I just..." She sighs, "You don't understand me and Riley, how important that friendship is. It would break her fucking heart, she'd never speak to me again."
I scoff, "She's an adult, she'll get over it. And you're your own person. Fuck my sister."
I know I shouldn't have said it the second it leaves my mouth. Ava's face twists into something sadder, hurt. She pulls away from my touch, standing up and letting my hand fall away from my thigh.
"You know it's not that simple," She states, eye contact now all over the place, "I actually care about her, maybe you should too."
I stare at her, trying to drag my head into this new state of mind. She's pissed at me, annoyed because I don't care enough. My heart doesn't crack, the emotions don't process. The word heartless rings in my head.
I do care about my sister, somewhere, but it's hard to get to when Ava's blocking it all. Those defensive mechanisms flood in, something cold piercing my voice.
"You took that photo on her bed, you know?"
She freezes, already over by the door.
"You think she'd be happy about that? Isn't that just as bad as me wanting this?" I ask. It's too honest, maybe even mean. I shouldn't be saying these things.
Ava says nothing. For some reason I keep speaking.
"If you feel this like I do it won't go away, Ava. You know that. You shouldn't choose my sister over yourself," The words come out raw.
"Fuck you," She mutters.
And then she's gone.
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