On Hiatus
There's always something unusual about first love - as if tequila has burned our rational thoughts and possessed our brains.
For seventeen-year-old Florence "Flora" Summer, her childhood friend, Tristan Asher, is the cheap wine she couldn...
My lips ignited the second he claimed them. It felt like that Christmas night's red wine had possessed his mind. His hands came down my shoulders, squeezing them gently before pulling me closer. I reached for his arms, feeling along the ridges of his taut muscles beneath his full sleeves. He shuddered, making a noise at the back of his throat. The pressure was dizzy; it felt like two kids doing their favorite thing for the last time before the world ended.
So dizzy that we both craved more, and so favorite that I wished I could do this lifelong.
The kiss was not gentle this time; it was fierce and demanding as if my mind was determined to feel it. Our hands tangled in each other's hair, pulling us closer to one another. Yet it felt soft and warm — like the early winter sun — softer than Granny's favorite roses. My stomach was unloosening the knotted nerves slowly. A gentle breeze rubbed our cheeks.
Tristan burned a thin line along my jaw and nipped the most sensitive part below my earlobe — teasing me. I leaned back, moaning loudly, and bunched my hands in the front of his t-shirt to steady my wriggling nerves. We were closer than ever — so close that we could feel every inch of our bodies through the fabric of our clothes. I gasped as he found his way down to my collarbone until I could no longer breathe.
His mouth came near my ear — his breath fanning my hair. "D'you want me to stop?"
I looked at him — his eye flickered heat and something unknown. But they were dark and dangerous. I was losing control this time, and there was no time to respond. I grabbed his wrists and caught his mouth again. Liquid heat pooled in my thighs as his arms snaked around my back. The voice in my mind's back yelled stop, but I didn't leave his lips. All I wanted now was this.
Him.
I could taste my control slipping away with every passing second. Nothing came to my mind except the army of butterflies in my loosening stomach and the hum of our quickening breaths. I finally gave in to him, my eyes fluttering close. I was drowning myself in it, and the sweetness of his mouth kept dissolving in mine. Minutes ran away with tasting, teasing, and touching each other. Everything was a blur of sweetness and bare skin. The heat in my stomach tightened my body out of something terrifyingly beautiful.
"Look at me, Flora."
I ignored him and deepened the kiss. Everything felt oddly vacant around us, yet all I could feel was heat, friction, and sweetness. His teeth caught my lips as I moaned, fluttering my eyes open. The sunlight didn't matter anymore — all that mattered was this moment. He brushed his thumb across my collarbone, sending quick pulses through my skin and leaving me shuddering. My chest felt heavy as something explosive started building in it. As good as it felt to kiss him, I was not about to risk myself again and end up self-loathing. We were igniting on the edge of something equally terrific and enchanting, and I knew this was wrong.
"Florence."
My breath caught; Tris's warm breath fell on my bare skin, and his lips found my neck again. My throat and limbs tightened. My eyes flit to his; they are darker than the Pacific Ocean, burning in desire and demand, challenging me to stop this now, but I couldn't move an inch. "Don't you dare call me that."
He leaned closer, grazing his mouth on my cheek. "How do you feel, Florence?"
My throat thickened as the nerves started knotting again. For some terrific reason, my burning lungs stopped working. The corner of his lips ticked in satisfaction — Tristan knew this would affect me. My eyes threatened to close anytime, but the pressure still raced inside my veins. We pulled back slowly as he ran his thumb across my lips. A jolt of electricity passed through me again, but I was under control this time.
"I needed this long ago, Tris." I murmured as he leaned down and brushed his lips with mine again. I rejoiced at the feel of his lips on mine and gripped his wrists firmly; his pulse was faster than before.
"I know," He kissed the corner of my lips. "And there you've it." He looked at me again. His eyes were darker, and his lips were swollen. My lips were parted — starving in touch. I stared at him, heated and breathless. And suddenly, the air around us turned heavy.
The bell went quickly as we stood up with our lunchboxes in our hands. I swallowed hard, ignoring my fluttering heart and tightening stomach. My lips were still scorching in his touch; I resisted the urge to touch them with my fingers. We stayed silent for a while, unable to move before he spoke up again.
"You can't deny anything now." He ran back to his class, leaving me alone. I couldn't deny it—I never denied it. Sometimes we couldn't see the treasure before us until someone opened the blindfold and vanished. And for me, it was Tristan and would always be. Perhaps, the most unloved one possessed the ability to weave a love song. A wave of exhaustion, happiness and relief hit me. My fingers touched my lips; I could still taste Tris's sweetness inside my mouth. But most importantly, it wasn't just sweetness — it was laced with hope and faith.
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Starting again after a long detachment from your favorite thing is tough, isn't it? Well, let's hope for the best. Besides, a new surprise is waiting to get unfolded. As always, thank you to all my readers for their encouraging comments and lovely votes. I can't answer all of them right now, but I'll write back soon.
What do you think of Tristan and Flora? A quick vote as a dose of encouragement?
