My heart felt as if it would explode out of my chest. He parted my legs gently and stood in front of me. His fingers curled around the back of my head, lowering his face, and pressed his warm lips on mine.
My hormones climbed a few levels higher with the tingling sensation his lips transferred to me. What was that? Was all kisses like that? Was it normal? My curiosity disappeared as his tongue played with mine. It became easier, this kissing thing, and I have to admit. I loved it.
The warmth in my core built up as the kiss deepened.
When our lips broke, it felt way too soon. My eyes stayed closed, and Blake chuckled.
“Stop laughing at me.” I opened my eyes. “I don’t kiss all the guys I meet.”
“I’m not laughing at your expense, believe me.” He walked over to his bed and puffed out a few pillows and placed it behind his back, resting against it.
His one foot was on top of his bed, while the other one was touching the ground.
Why did he have to be so beautiful? “So your father doesn’t mind that you skip school?”
“Nope, I already did the work last year.”
“Last year?”
“Home school, but I wanted to graduate from a normal school. Have the authentic experience of graduating, wearing the toga and everything. Prom, too.”
“So you are redoing the last few months just to graduate and go to prom?”
“Yeah.”
“What is wrong with you?”
He laughed at the sarcastic tone in my voice. “I like school.”
“That is over educating yourself. I wish I was done.” I took a sip of my coke as my eyes flickered to the images on the cork-board to find out what made Blake tick.
“Why?”
“Because then maybe I can go to an Art school.” My tone dripped from sadness.
His gaze softened a bit as his eyebrows pulled together.
He moved a few inches away from the nightstand and tapped on the spot next to him.
I walked over, took off my shoes, and lay down next to him. Heat radiated from him and he smelled so freaking good. It made my head foggy.
He asked me about art school, and I told him about all the art teachers I’d met, and how they were all the same. When they see my art pieces, they wanted to pull strings. My dad almost fell for it once. He even spoke to the principal and the teacher about a scholarship to a prestigious art school in California. I thought he would budge, but we hit the road the next day. It was so sudden.
We spoke about plenty of things. Well, I did most of the talking and it was everything about my life and all the disappointments that I had to endure. I almost gave up art because every time we left, there wasn’t time to pack up my art.
We spoke about all the dreadful driving I had to endure on the trips. How paranoid my father was that we almost got into accidents, and nothing was even following us.
I hated how my life sounded.
“And you said your life is boring.”
I chuckled. “It is. I don’t have a life because of it.”
“I hear you. You will have it soon. I’m not going anywhere.” He closed the gap between us and kissed me again.
It was so dangerous to do this kissing thing on top of his bed. The way I was with him, I wouldn’t even know if he disposed of my clothes, to be honest. He could take advantage of me and I would be too out of it to say anything.
The kiss broke. I could kiss him forever.
