SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 26

@Obama Nice

(•_•) what dat mouth do

CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

The kiss was brief, and unexpected. It was a peck, an unmemorable feeling. Disappointment rushed through me. I expected more: breathlessness, lust, desire.  Not the sort of teeth-bashing smacker you'd expect from an eight year old boy who'd been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the class, palms slippery, shit-eating grin. Angry, I said. "You're a shit kisser." It was a self-indulgent statement. A means to tug Cole down to the depths of my bitterness.

Perhaps this was my fault. My expectations were too high. Cole and his sudden stunted growth couldn't have possibly reached them.

He scoffed to himself, once in incredulity, and then in touchiness. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt, this time pissed, and yanked me forward. I put a hand to his shoulder: I don't think so. His pride had been knocked down, and he had expected me to fawn over him; a silly, girly gasp, a redness of the cheeks, a flutter of the eyelashes. Except I hadn't and he hated me for that. "You're not slobbering over me again. It was embarrassing the first time."

His jaw locked, he glared, spat. "Like hell–"

I batted his hands away, on my feet, away from him. Brusque and harsh. "Invest in some chapsticks. Dry lips are off-putting."

He wasn't pleased. He stood in front of me, aggressive, hand under my chin, demanding attention, like a kid who'd been refused candy. "That's rich coming from..." he halted, surprised by his own realisation. "Wait a minute. You played me? You fucking played me."

"I–"

He couldn't believe it. I expected him to then, at least, movie kiss me. But no, he refused to play ball. "I don't appreciate how you tried to hoodwink me into kissing you. Tsk-tsk. You're getting desperate." We were back to this stupid teasing. I wanted to smack my head against the wall. It was so frustrating. He continued: "Say pretty please and I'll kiss you. Otherwise..."

What a ...dick.

I didn't love Cole. Neither did I like him. But I was attracted to him and I wanted to see how far I could take things between us. He was older, experienced, the sort of man Dad hated, Jade hated, my friends hated. I always dated good boys, the type who wait till marriage to have sex, accidentally scrape my boobs and then apologise. (Doriano didn't count. He was good, but a mistake.)

As much as I wanted to make-out with him, I wasn't going to be the one begging. At least, that's what I thought. I pooh-poohed, swivelling around to leave the room, one hand tight on my battered and bruised dignity. Forget this had ever happened. Maybe whine to Irvin about what a complete and utter arsehole Cole was.

And then I thought: actually...fuck it. Why not? Nothing was stopping me. My hand fell from the doorknob, and my dignity, and then in a split second, I was in front of Cole, our lips brushed, clumsily at first, then greedily, kissing. Actually kissing.

I could taste the sweet beer on his tongue. His soft lips. Bristly jawline. And his eagerness which I matched with my own, my hand brushing through his hair, gripping, pulling, and then falling, resting slightly curled against his cheek. Forgotten.

His hands were on my hips, and then under my t-shirt, and I felt his smirk when he realised I wasn't wearing a bra. I didn't know if we would fuck. I know I wanted to but at the same time, I wasn't too sure. In the moment, right here, right now, I was irresolute. Cowardly even. I thought ahead: the next morning, the awkwardness. The gossip.