The Sun and the Moon [Wattys 2015 winner]

Chapter 10: Midnight

At 8:33 p.m. by the time on the microwave, which I had determined was the fastest clock in the house, Ryan tugged on my earlobe gently. As I turned toward him, he slipped a fork speared with a small bite of chocolate cake into my parted lips. I must have made a moaning noise because I caught him adjusting his pants.

At 9:05 p.m., Ryan crouched down like a football player getting ready for a tackle, charged me, put his broad shoulder against my waist, hoisted me over his back like I weighed half of what I did, and carried me out of the kitchen, insisting that I was not to do the dishes tonight despite my loud objection. I kicked and flailed and finally found purchase by holding on to his ass, heh heh. He threw me on the couch and returned to the dishes, continuing the conversation we were having before we argued about the dishes.

At 9:06 p.m. I wandered back to the kitchen entrance hovering out of reach, but still, Ryan walked over and touched the end of my nose with a finger covered in soap suds, and smirked, showing me his dimples.

At 9:22 p.m. Ryan let his finger slip lazily down the side of my neck as he helped me into my windbreaker.

At 9:26 p.m. Ryan held my hand as we walked around my neighborhood on the warm autumn evening, enjoying the Halloween decorations.

At 9:33 p.m. Ryan continued to hold my hand as we continued our walk.

At 10:03 p.m. Ryan continued to hold my hand as we walked up my walkway to my front door. He gave my hand a squeeze and released it as I unlocked the door.

At 10:58 p.m. Ryan brushed his fingers against mine as he handed me a glass of sparkling water.

At 11:39 p.m., we both reached for the volume button on the music at the same time as we traded favorite bands on Spotify.

At 11:56:45 p.m., I had enough of the tension between us. I was standing in the kitchen, a finger pointed in Ryan's handsome, freckled face, yelling at him, "You impossible man, you said you were not going to touch me until midnight and you've been touching me all night long! I'm going to combust." It was all I could do not to stamp like a child. I was breathing hard and trying not to show it so I felt like I was going to faint.

He looked about the same way that I did, full lips separated, breathing shallow, curly hair messy from him running his hands in it throughout the evening. Then he gave me a provocative smile. "Just a few more minutes. Let's see how close we can get without touching."

"Bastard," I muttered, and then I decided to take him up on his challenge. I stepped closer to him, so that we were facing each other, six inches apart.

He took a baby step forward, closing the distance in half.

I stepped forward an inch and my knees and hands started to shake. My fingers twitched, itching to touch him. I licked my lips. He licked his. My toes were two inches away from his toes. My knees were two inches away from his knees. My fingers were two inches away from his fingers. He looked down and I looked up and our faces were two inches away from each other. He held his torso two inches away from mine, the whole way that he could.

Then he moved so we were one inch apart. Everywhere.

Then we breathed in and out.

For two and a half minutes.

The longest two and a half minutes of my life.

His green eyes dilated and his cheek twitched.

His attractive clean mansmell washed over me.

I felt his warm breath on my skin. I'm sure I was panting on him.

He moved his finger and then stilled it.