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(12) Lips Of An Angel

(12) Lips Of An Angel

Was I falling for him?

I looked at Liam from my position on the table, watching as his brown orbs illuminated from the lights of the telly on which he was focused on. It was the day after the kiss-that-should've-been, and we were cooling off in our own separate worlds. We hadn't talked much since we arrived here yesterday, and it was killing me. Regret flooded my veins and knotted my chest tightly, making it a struggle to breathe. This led to the question: 

Was I falling for him?

I've been up all night, pondering at the question, completely enveloped by it as if solving it would mean answering all the world's problems. Yeah, sure, my palms may get a bit sweaty, and my heart may go a bit erratic every time he was close, but did that ultimately mean that I was falling for him? For someone who no longer than a week ago I'd hated with so much passion it burned?

No. Maybe I'm just going insane, going bonkers because I've not receive much socialization that I needed.

But then why was I regretting not kissing him? Why was I wanting the taste of his lips? Because even if I was going a bit insane, wanting his lips on mine so badly would be too much, wouldn't it? Craving for his sun-kissed skin to touch and burn mine, his addictive breath on my lips . . .

I didn't realize that I was practically gawking at him for far too long. When he turned his head to my direction, I immediately averted my eyes to the pack of junk food on my hands, my cheeks flushing red. His eyes bore onto me a second longer than I would've thought necessary, until he withdrew his gaze and refocused them on the screen.

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.

Why was it killing me that he still hadn't talked to me? It felt as if a massive slab of stone had been pressing against my chest since yesterday's event. There were small hi's and excuse me's and sorry's every time we would bump into each other, but they weren't enough to ease my discomfort. We've grown more apart than ever, and I didn't know why it was affecting me so much. We weren't even close to start with.

Liam stood up and walked over to the fridge, which was behind where I sat. I tried to focus on the heavenly chips on my hands and didn't let my eyes wander over to him. A minute later, after taking his drink and turning off the telly, he was out the door. He didn't even spare me a glance.

I stared at the wooden door longingly for a while, before sighing. Was it really possible to fall for somebody without even knowing? How do you even determine "falling"? Does it have symptoms, signs and/stuff like that? If so, then when do you realize this?

As these question began to swarm and overtake my mind, I found the pack of Lays on my hands unappetizing, and I sighed again. I'm even losing my love of food because of this confusion. I stood up from my seat, clutching my crutches, and walked over to the cupboards where I placed my pack of Lays. I trudged towards the couch, and sank on it with a huge sigh. I placed the crutches by my feet.

"Oh, Niall, what's happening to you?" I murmured to myself. Taking hold of the remote, I pushed the big red button on its upper right corner and tried to focus on whatever was on. A really cheesy romantic film took over the earlier blackness of the screen, and I wondered for a while if this had been what Liam was watching earlier. Seriously?

I was in no mood for romance as of the moment. I clicked the remote for the next channel, finding out that again it was a romantic film. What the fudge? I browsed through the channels, and all that there were kisses here, cuddles there, and I love you this, I love you that. It made me sick. Finally having enough, I turned off the television with a huff. Stupid shows.