“Well, it’s you,” she responds in a soft whisper.
“Well, I guess I'm beautiful then,” I respond half-jokingly, ignoring the chills her words have given me.
I mean yeah, I know I'm attractive. I'm neither blind nor pretend to be modest. However, the person in this painting is more than that and I can't believe that someone who hates me has drawn me like this.
“You are beautiful,” Juliette whispers, snapping me out of my trance.
Like my body is on autopilot, I almost instantly turn to look at her, only to realize that our faces are inches apart. If I fell now, I'd be sitting right on her lap as her chair is almost directly beneath me. She thinks I'm beautiful.
I gulp as I stare into her eyes; her pupils have tripled in size. Before I know it, she's standing up painstakingly slowly.
Juliette is towering over me and she is tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. She leans in, her lips meeting the side of my ear as she whispers, “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't.”
I feel my knees buckle at her soft whispers and also the fact that she's actually apologizing for something.
As girls, insecurity is woven tightly into our lives from birth to death. We carry this weight that is passed down from generation to generation. I am also a victim to that, as I'm sure she probably is too.
While Juliette didn't cause any specific insecurities for me, she did fuel some of them. She took countless digs at my appearance and when I grew up, I realized they were baseless. However, that didn't make it hurt any less.
“Saying sorry doesn't fix it.” I sigh deeply, still feeling her lips on the shell of my ear.
She withdraws slowly and presses her forehead against mine. “Will this?”
She leans in slowly, as if she's waiting for me to pull away, but I don't. In fact, I lean in with just as much vigour as she does.
Her lips meet mine, open mouthed and soft. This is different from our first kiss; it's equally as passionate, but it's more gentle. It feels like the angels moulded our lips for each other, like she's breathing pure life into me and I can't help but respond.
My hands move to her face, cupping her smooth cheeks and I feel hers wandering over the small of my back. I pull her closer and kiss her reverently like I'm on a death row and she's my last meal—slow and controlled, but still aching for more.
I feel so safe within this kiss, like I can crumble into a void of nothingness and she'll be here to hold me.
That is until I hear a noise—I'm not sure if it's her moaning or it's me, but instantly, it snaps me back to reality. I pull away from her like pure acid has scorched my skin.
She looks dazzled and confused. I can't even dignify her looks with a response.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
Instantly, I realize that I'm making a mistake, I'm kissing Juliette…again!
“Shit!” I exclaim, staring down at her lips again. As I stare, I realize I need to get out of here.
“Adaline—”
“I have to go.” I cut her off quickly as I make my way back to the chair and pick my bag up.
Say something! Stop me from going! My mind is racing with thoughts, but I ignore them.
“What about tutoring me—”
“Tomorrow!” I cut her off again, running toward the door and making my way out of there.
I make my way outside her house, ignoring the curious looks her maids are sending my way. As soon as I'm outside, I grab my knees and lean over like I'm trying to catch my breath.
Of course, I'm trying to catch it because that little devil sucked it all out of me with her soft lips and gentle hands! I swear I could faint right now with this throbbing pressure that is wrecking pure havoc on my mind and heart.
I walk toward my motorbike and put one leg over it, sitting on it. I need to get out of here; I can't be around Juliette any longer or I will go back inside and kiss her again, senselessly.
Before I can harness my helmet, my phone dings in my pocket. I look and see that I have a message. I instantly know who it is and clench my jaw in response. What? It's been like two minutes since I left her house.
