Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 17

It possibly wasn’t the wisest choice. Neither did it make much sense to Freya. But it had happened and there was no intention of stopping. She had tangled herself in the moment and did not hold the power to silence the pleading voice needling in the forefront of her mind anyway. It only took seconds to convince herself that it was a good idea. It didn’t matter to Freya that the masquerading fact stood as a flimsy guard of the white lie underneath. Nothing of rational composition registered. In the presence of freedom and the hills ambling into the skyline only thoughts of a wishful manner seemed fitting. All her mind could focus on was ways to remove the slither of a gap between Mat and herself.

She closed her hand into a fist, trapping strands of his hair beneath her grip. It was a pleading gesture and he read it with absolute clarity. Without hesitation his hand curled further around her waist and pressed them together.

 The kiss possessed no elegance. The pace of it did not adhere to a carefully choreographed method of build up. Instead it drew inspiration from the beat of heart that tumbled and tripped in the race to squeeze out another thud in quick succession to the last. A knot twisted in her frustration that refused to release no matter how desperately she pursued more kisses.

It was Mat who located the solution. He pulled his head back and denied her another kiss, forcing her to study his eyes with a querying search. Up close there were subtleties to his eyes that were almost impossible to pick up on from a distance. The brown plunged into a seemingly undistinguishable tone of darkness possessed slight flecks and intricacies that had passed unnoticed before. Freya felt herself suddenly compelled to commit the map of his eyes to memory. She soon became engrossed in the task; noting down every quirk and intricacy she could find. It was an interesting occupation. One she would be glad to pursue at some other time. But it did nothing to dispel the nervous energy writhing deep inside and scratching the walls to be released. Freya was left toying with strands of his hair between her fingers in order to settle the nerves.

Initially his breaking of the stillness escaped her notice. It wasn’t until she felt him gently pulling at her bottom lip that she recorded the change in the atmosphere that lit the air around them with electric insistence. Carefully, his hands on either side of her waist guided her upwards in order for her to better secure a position on his lap. Once comfortable she sunk down into his arms as she attempted to catalogue the new sense of anticipation. The calm sat unsettlingly against the intensity of her intentions and created an aggravation that shuddered across her skin.

His hand made contact with a small portion of skin above the waist that had wound free from the cover of her jumper. It burned at the touch and ignited the growing frustrations into something impossible to ignorable. The contact caused Mat to pause for a moment; in order to leave Freya the time to confirm the path they seemed to be stumbling down. She didn’t need to think twice as she pressed her hands against his chest; pushing him down onto the ground beneath.

***

“You’re late.” Bryn spoke the instant the door rattled shut announcing Freya and Mat’s entrance to the house. He sat by the window in the living room; eyes fixated upon the view outside and back straightened in obvious alert. Freya could feel the flustered sense of panic creep onto her cheeks in a display of scarlet blush as she kicked off her shoes. They had not expected a watchman on arrival. Her throat closed with the traffic of useless strands of excuses blocking her ease of speech. Fortunately Mat was able to react quickly to the unexpected inquisition and replied with an uncaring nonchalance that rolled without hint of care into Bryn’s expecting silence.

“We are?” He ambled to the door frame and lent against it with arms crossed. The exaggerated lift of his eyebrows suggested the threat of an argument if the questions persisted. The unchanged glower of Bryn’s expressions suggested that an argument was exactly what he desired. Freya felt her presence would be necessary to break up the tension that inevitably seemed to arise between the two during most their dealings.