Most times.
Because it has been better lately. The last couple of weeks. It’s the little things mostly, but they’re starting to add up now. I feel it. I’m noticing them. It’s why I couldn’t sleep in the first place, and why I thought going for a drive would be a good idea. I didn’t make it to the end of the driveway before she started acting up. It’s a good thing I didn’t go much further, or I’d really have lost my mind.
I see no movement on the couch. Don’t hear anything either. It’s eerily quiet, outside of the rain that only seems to be getting stronger.
My attention goes back to the ceiling. Dark. Plain. Bare.
But that fucking chandelier.
Who buys someone a chandelier?
Alex Brewer. That’s who.
I hate how much sense it makes. I hate how much I like it. I fucking hate how much he knows me. It pisses me right off that he can always read me, that he knows just how to push my buttons. Alex isn’t just annoying because that’s who he is, he’s very deliberate with it. He knows what buttons to push and when. Because he knows me… the same way I know him.
So what if…
I toss the blankets off me and get out of bed. I quietly make my way to the living room. It’s dark, nothing butthe dim light from the TV, but even if it were pitch black, I’d know where to go.
The parts of me that have been fighting this attraction to Alex aren’t winning the way they used to. It used to be easy to ignore him. Now it’s a losing battle. Before I make it to the head of the couch, Alex speaks.
“Jordan? What’s wrong?”
He moves to sit up, but I put my hand on his chest, pushing him back as I settle a knee beside him.
Even in the dark, I see his wide, confused eyes. I see the way his throat bobs as he swallows, and I feel the way his heart starts to beat just a little harder beneath my palm.
“I need to see something,” I say softly.
It’s about time I make another mistake, right? My life has been boring as fuck these last seven years.
There is no hesitation, no pause. No second thought.
I lean down, pressing my lips to his. He flinches, but otherwise he doesn’t move. I press harder, then slide my tongue into his mouth to be met with his. After a second or two, he snaps out of his shock and kisses me back.
He tastes exactly as I remember. Feels exactly as I remember.
There’s something about kissing him that has always been different, felt better. I don’t know what it is. It’s just him. Whatever mix we make together, it’s good.
But I don’t want Alex to kiss me just because I’m kissing him. I want him to kiss me because it’s what hewants. I need to know that I’m what he wants, and that he’s willing to be patient with me while we figure this out. Whatever the fuck this is. I don’t know how to make something of this; I don’t even know if I can. But maybe this can be a start of that. The beginning of the beginning…
“What was that?” he breathes out when I pull back.
“Not really sure,” I answer honestly.
“Jordan…”
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
I stand up straight, watching him for a moment before heading back to my room.
“You expect me to go to sleep after that?” he calls out.
I huff out a laugh as I get back into my bed.
“Good night, Alex!”
He mutters something. The TV goes off. And I fall asleep.
