Chapter 4 #2
Neither of us says anything for a long moment, but it's a nice silence. The kind of silence that hangs between people who are content to just be. I watch as a small smile creeps across Elliot’s face, pulling at the corners of his lips and deepening the dimples on his cheeks.
I’m overcome with the urge to stick my pinky out, to pop it in one of those dimples just to know what it would feel like.
I’m powerless against the way my body starts to move, to the way I lean in closer to Elliot, the way my hand sneaks out from behind my head and reaches for his cheek.
And before my brain can hop on board with the magnetic pull, Elliot is moving closer, too.
His face tilts, and I open my mouth to ask him if he wants to come in and hang out longer—or maybe ask him if he’s read my mind and is offering up a dimple for poking—and then his lips are there, hovering over mine, his breath warm and minty against my mouth.
He gives me plenty of time to stop, to say no, to push him away, but I don’t.
Instead, I keep my eyes open while Elliot’s flutter shut, and I let him press his lips to mine.
I don’t kiss him back, not right away. I let him hum against me, the pressure of his mouth wildly different than anything I’ve felt before and yet somehow familiar.
I let him nip at me, feel him smiling against my lips, and only then do my lips part slightly, welcoming the flavor of him into my mouth.
I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment.
He smells like something earthy and soft, and he tastes like peppermints and sugar and the slightest tang of the beer he drank earlier.
My hands are stiff at my sides, but the rest of me seems to melt as the kiss goes on, sweet and exploring.
It’s different than any other kiss I’ve ever had, not only because Elliot is a man, but because I’m not used to being the one without the control.
I’m not typically the one to lie back and be kissed.
I’m the one who does the kissing, the controlling, the taking.
Elliot licks at my bottom lip, coaxing me to open up for him, and only then do I realize what’s going on. Elliot is kissing me. I’m kissing him back. I’m seconds away from making out with a man I just met, and I don’t think I hate it.
And yet, instead of opening up and letting him explore my mouth, to taste his tongue, I pull back.
“El…” I sigh. The quiet whisper of my voice might as well be a megaphone for how it cuts through the still night, sending the floating starlight of this mystical moment dissipating into thin air.
“I know,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and I wonder if he’d been thinking about touching my face the way I’d been thinking about his dimple.
“I know. I heard you when you say you don’t hook up during hockey season.
I just…I like you, Alex. I couldn’t go home tonight not knowing what your lips taste like.
I needed to know what it felt like to kiss you. ”
His scent is still all around us, all over me, making my head feel dizzy. I barely hear myself when I start to speak.
“It’s not that, El. It's just…I’m not…I’m straight.”
Elliot’s head rears back, his pupils blown out in…anger? No, not anger. It looks more like shock. He’s shocked that I’m not queer?
I mean…I did just kiss him pretty enthusiastically for a few minutes, so I guess that’s fair.
“You’re straight?” he asks, and yup, that’s definitely shock that I hear in his voice.
“Yes?” I answer, arching an eyebrow. Elliot’s brows scrunch together, making the lines on his forehead all the more prominent and impossibly cuter and…
Huh. Now I’m the one who’s feeling a little confused. But the air around us has become thick with awkward tension, and despite myself, I feel the need to break through it.
So, like an idiot, I sit up, throw out some jazz hands and say, “Ta da!”
Elliot’s lips are parted, that quiet, confused contemplation still all over his face as he sits up, too. To his credit, he doesn’t seem all that embarrassed, which is good. I’d hate to make him feel bad for misreading whatever signals I must have been putting out.
“Straight. Huh. Alright then.”
“It’s fine,” I say, even though he didn’t apologize. And even if he had, there’s nothing to apologize for. “I’m totally cool. This isn’t even the first time this has happened to me.”
“This isn’t the first time another guy has assumed you’re queer and kissed you without asking first?” He says with a humorless laugh, and I shrug.
“Well, no. No one's ever kissed me before, but it’s not the first time I’ve been…
propositioned? I guess that’s the term I’m looking for—by another guy.
It doesn’t bother me. I’ve been told I just have “one of those personalities”.
It's a vibe, or a quality, or something that I give off. I don’t really know what that means, but seriously. It’s fine, El.”
“Got it. Still, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I just kissed you like that. That’s not cool for a bunch of reasons—”
“Seriously, Elliot, I’m not upset. I don’t feel like you took advantage or anything like that.
It was a moment, and I…” I trail off, letting my words hang between us.
What I meant to say was that I might have done the same thing if I were sitting with a woman I found attractive.
But what almost came out of my mouth was…
I think I wanted you to kiss me, and I think I liked kissing you back.
But I have no idea where that desire came from. I don’t know why my cock perked up behind the zipper of my jeans when Elliot let out that soft little hum when our lips touched. I can’t remember ever being so turned on by something as simple as a kiss.
Of course, there's nothing simple about getting horny over another man’s lips on mine.
So, yeah. Best that I keep my inside thoughts to myself for now.
“Alright, then. I’m still sorry, but as long as you’re cool—”
“I’m cool, I promise. Cool as a cucumber.”
“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. I think I’ll head out then.” Elliot moves to stand, but I’m not ready for him to go yet. I put a hand on his thigh, my pinky brushing over the exposed skin at a raw edge on the ripped denim clinging to his thighs.
“Wait, do you want to come inside? We didn’t get any of that pizza, and I’ve got leftover Chinese if you’re hungry.”
“Nah, thanks though. I’m tired, and I’ve got to trek down this mountain if I want to catch a car back to my place across town.”
“Are we…I mean…I had a great time tonight, El. I was really excited to have a new friend, and I hope I didn’t ruin it.”
“Aww, Alex. You didn’t ruin anything, I promise. My pride is a little wounded, but that’s a me problem, not a you problem. I like you a lot, and we’re definitely going to be friends, okay?”
I blow out a breath, feeling both relieved that he isn’t upset and bummed that he still doesn’t want to stay.
“Okay. Text me when you get home?”
“I will, promise.”
I pull him into a hug that catches him off guard, if the surprised breath he huffs out when our chests meet is any indication, and send him on his way.
Half an hour later, my phone lights up with a text.
Elliot
I made it home safe. Currently enjoying the lack of incline on my street. You should consider moving to a flatter neighborhood.
Alex
But if I don’t have to climb a mountain to get home, how will I keep my butt fit enough to crack walnuts?
Elliot
Good point. Keep your house on the hill, for the sake of ass-loving folks everywhere.
Alex
Aww, you like my ass?
Elliot
Damn. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Alex
Like a wide open door.
Thanks for tonight, El.
Elliot
Sleep tight, Alex.
I plug my phone in to charge and roll over in my bed, suddenly exhausted.
I press my fingers to my lips, nuzzling against the soft cotton of my pillowcase.
And the last things I think about before I drift off are dimples and the taste of peppermint.