Chapter 26 Think It, Mean It, Say It #2
“My head is killing me.” I groaned.
He smirked. “Yeah I figured, here, this should help.”
He walked over, handing me a latte, his fingers brushing mine for a split second. I tried to ignore the way my skin seemed to hum from that minor brush of contact. He set the bag down on the desk, pulling out two bagels wrapped in parchment.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I murmured, taking a sip of the matcha. It was perfect, the bitterness balanced by just the right amount of sweetness. “But God am I glad that you did.”
“You looked like you needed it,” he said simply, sitting down across from me on the edge of the desk. His legs stretched out, long and relaxed, as he unwrapped his bagel.
We ate in silence for a while simply basking in each others presence. I couldn’t believe that I had him so close, I couldn’t believe that he was here with me so willingly. I made my way to My wardrobe and took out a towel and some shower supplies.
“Will you um, wait for me?” I asked of him.
“Yes.” He agreed glancing up at me. “I will.”
I swallowed hard and quickly made my way into the bathroom to take a much needed shower, I smelled like I went swimming in Long Island iced tea and not in a good way. I put on a pale pink casual cami with low-rise jeans, spritzing on some of my vanilla perfume.
I wanted to smell like him.
Afterwards, I walked out to the light streaming in through the window caught in his hair, making the soft black strands gleam. His T-shirt clung to his shoulders and chest in a way that seemed almost unfair, the fabric slightly rumpled but impossibly enticing.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk. “You do that a lot, I’m starting to find it rather adorable that you’re so attracted to me.”
I looked away quickly, focusing on my bagel. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” he teased, The silence between us was comfortable, but charged. I could feel the weight of his presence in the room, every move he made drawing my attention whether I wanted it to or not. “But that’s okay because I’m— attracted to you too.”
“You are?”
“Very.” He assured me his eyes aflame with something unchaste and consuming.
When we finished eating, I got up to refill my water bottle.
“I promised that I’d tell you again in the morning.” He spoke,
“What?”
“I promised I’d tell you again that I need to be with you, that what I feel for you isn’t fleeting and that it isn’t the kind of thing that lives and dies.
It’s the kind of thing that has a heartbeat, that resurrects time and time again.
I’m not fucking around with you Yesoh, I wouldn’t joke about something like that.
I wouldn’t lie to you like that.” He reasserted and my heart dropped all over again.
His honesty, his unwavering respect and affection warmed my heart.
He had finally come around— but I couldn’t help but wonder at what cost?
I’d still read through his personal thoughts after I promised him I wouldn’t.
And I didn’t even want to imagine how he’d feel when he found out. Wyn— oh Wyn, would he ever forgive me?
I walked back to the desk, but I tripped over the edge of the rug, the water slipping from my hand and splashing all over him.
“Oh my god!” I gasped, horrified.
Wynter flinched but didn’t move away. His T-shirt was soaked, the thin white fabric clinging to his chest and stomach, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I could see the outline of his sculpted abs from all the years of skating, he was actually insanely ripped.
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice calm but lower, rougher than before.
“No, it’s not,” I muttered, rushing to grab a towel. When I returned, he was still sitting there, completely unbothered, his eyes watching me with something I couldn’t quite name.
I pressed the towel against his chest, my hands trembling slightly. His skin was hot beneath the fabric, and I could feel the ridges of muscle under my careful fingertips. My movements slowed as I realized just how close we were.
“Your hands are shaking,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something playful but edged with something deeper.
He grabbed ahold of my hand and brushed his nose along my wrist, his breathing turning jagged.
He glanced up at me from beneath his generous pair of eyelashes, his freckles striking.
“I’m starting to think you just wanted to see through my clothes. ”
“I’m just trying to help,” I muttered, though my voice sounded too breathy to my own ears.
His hand came up, covering mine, stopping my movements. “Yesoh.”
“Hm?”
“Maybe I don’t want to get dry.” he sighed.
I froze, my eyes flicking up to meet his. The air between us shifted, thick and electric. His gaze was heavy, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter.
“I’ve never kissed anyone,” I blurted out, not that anyone asked but I felt the need to confess to it, unable to stop myself.
His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Never?”
I shook my head, my cheeks burning. “I just— I didn’t want to do it with someone who didn’t matter.”
I didn’t say the most important part; that for as long as I could remember, he was the only thing that mattered to me.
His expression softened, but his eyes didn’t waver. He tilted his head, his lips curving into the faintest, softest smile.
“Good,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You shouldn’t settle for less than someone who deserves it.”
“Do you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, closing the space between us until his icy breath was warm against my lips. “That's what you get to decide. If not tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “do it.”
“Wyn….” I sighed as he backed me up against my desk, his hands pinned on either side.
“I need you to tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this, tell me your firsts aren’t mine to have.” He pleaded, with a tone of desperation I’d never heard from him before.
I didn’t. Obviously.
And so then he did what I’d been dreaming of since I was only thirteen.
He kissed me, his lips brushing mine in a way that was both tentative and devastatingly certain.
My chest tightened as my hands found their way to his damp shirt, clutching the fabric as if it could anchor me.
He deepened the kiss slowly, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a claiming, a slow unravelling of something I didn’t fully understand but couldn’t resist.
He kissed me like a dam breaking, the force of it stealing the air from my lungs.
His lips were warm and insistent, pressing against mine with a hunger that felt barely contained.
I gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed between us as his hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer.
Every sensation was amplified—the softness of his lips, the faint taste of coffee lingering on his tongue, the heat radiating off his skin.
My fingers clutched at his damp shirt, desperate to hold onto something as the world tilted on its axis.
His shirt clung to his chest, the fabric slick against my palms as I fisted it, pulling him closer like I couldn't bear even the smallest distance.
It wasn't a kiss meant to seduce or coax; it was a collision, a desperate, aching thing.
Like he'd been holding back for too long and now couldn't stop himself.
His other hand found my waist, firm but trembling slightly as if even he wasn't sure what came next.
I made a soft, involuntary sound against his lips, and it seemed to undo him entirely.
So much so that he pulled back. Almost as if we’d been underwater and needed to come up for air. “You didn’t say no.” He breathed.
“I didn’t want to.” I assured him. He placed his hand on my cheek and suddenly his eyes filled with emotion as if he’d just realized what he had done. And that there was no going back from it, he realised the magnitude of his feelings and what they meant.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s something I have to do, something very important.” He grabbed ahold of both my hands, then planted a kiss me on the palm of my right hand.
“What do you mean?” I wondered in confusion as he threw on a hoodie from my rack.
Let’s ignore the fact that he was wearing my bright purple Gracie Abrams US tour hoodie, and that he could fit it.
“I mean that before this can happen, and I mean really happen I need to make things right.” He insisted. “I’ll come back to you Yesoh, I’ll always come back.”
And then, he was out the door.