Dismissing Dakota | ✓

»17. Touched«

Silvia's POV

The length of our relationship could easily be counted on one hand. We couldn't boast about it; it was a short stretch of time. I was sure the average High School couple had endured less break-ups and arguments –combined—than us. The rekindling of our relationship was even shorted. Less than a day.

Less than half a day and I couldn't find myself stopping him from kissing me, deeply. Holding me, closely. I couldn't blame this on anyone. We both had a bad habit of rushing into things, rushing into our feelings too fast. I wanted him as badly as he wanted me.

Neither of us ever stopped to see if it was right or wrong. There was no regulation over our emotions when things got started.

Dakota could look at me once, and in that split-second, I found myself falling to my feet. He knew that, I knew that. I'm sure everyone knew that if they studied my eyes long enough. Studied the way I stood by him in any social setting, or how I gazed at him from across a room.

Even when I disliked him, that heat was there. I had a hard time figuring out if it had always been there, since the start.

Regardless, I hated the truth behind that. I hated how obvious it was that I, Silvia Ellington, was wrapped up in my feelings when it came to Dakota. Was it like that for him? Did he feel the same pull, holding him by the heart?

"I want to do something," I said again, directly looking at him when I spoke. "I want to do something for you."

Dakota nibbled his lower lip, and then grazing it with his teeth. He used the pad of his thumb against my jaw, lining it up with his finger. A shudder rumbled through me. I wouldn't be able to make it to my room if he tried something on me now, here in the dining room.

It was wrong on every level. I didn't know what came over me when he did that. I was reckless, and oddly enough, I liked it that way. I liked the way my unpredictable actions were controlled by his touch.

Dakota breathed. "I don't...I don't have any protection."

"I didn't mean sex." I paused. "Well, a form of sex, but not what you're not thinking of."

His mouth fell open. Something clicked. "Wait. Uh..."

"What? You don't want to?"

"No, that's not it," he said at rapid speed. "I just...well, I should probably take a shower before we do anything. Then, we can go to your room."

"I don't see why it has to be exclusively in my room." I brought my hand up to his charcoal colored hair, brushing stands over his forehead. His excitement in his eyes vanished, flickering down at the hardwood floors.

A while ago, Hunter had told me about Dakota before he got his tattoos. He described how he wore shirts with long sleeves to shield the scars he had gained.

After a car crash with his father, he was left with marks up to his neck –explaining the bird tattoo he had on the side of his throat. You could only see the faint outline of torn skin under the ink, but it was barely visible unless you were really trying to look.

"I could go with you. Unless you think that'll make things too crowded." I said.

"It won't," Dakota blurted. The excitement from earlier reappeared and he took my hand, lifting me up from my chair and on to my feet. "You go in first. I'm going to go check on my clothes in the dryer, and then meet you up there."

Last night, Dakota stepped in mud when he was leaving his house and the bottom cuffs of his jeans got dirty. I threw them into the washer this morning and then transferred them into the dryer at some point during my lame attempt at making us breakfast.