Hey, Mister In Denial (BxB)

Chapter 18: The Luck Is Real

Chapter 18
The Luck Is Real

The purple mark on his cheek is so obvious now, and his cheek is swelling. Every now and then, as he moves his face, or just makes any expression, or moves a single muscle on his face, Dale flinches. His jaw remains clenched, and his hands remain in fist. His Adam's apple is bobbing up and down every now and then, also one of the signs that he's nervous. Just from watching him from afar, I have already known his traits, if he's mad or nervous or annoyed, I know what he does.

My arms are still crossed across my chest, still waiting for him to talk, to tell me a beautiful story about how they, he and Dustin, suddenly decided to kill each other with their bare hands. He looks at me, his eyes lose its shine, replaced with something negative: guilt, sadness, and pain. It almost makes me reach out on him, to hold his arm out, to hold his bicep again and feel him up, but as my mind flashes the image of Dustin and him fighting, my appetite loses.

"Are you going to talk or not?" I ask him, tone annoyed. Dale arches a brow at me. The warning bell has already rung, and I know, as a voice speaks at the back of my head, that I'm going to get called at the principal's office.

Dale sighs, shoulders sagging down and I turn on my heels, deciding for myself; he's not going to speak, and tell me the details. I should have known. But as I turn around, my hand about to reach the knob, Dale's arm stretches forward and his hand grips my shoulder and pushes me back on the door, knocking the air out of me and I glare at him. "I'm sorry." He says, almost a whisper, so low that I barely hear it, but I catch the way his lips move, and I watch how it descends on mine and a gasp escapes my lips as he presses his lips on mine. His palm rests at the back of my neck, pushing me forward, pressing me closer to him as his other hand rests on my hips; our chest, shoulders, stomach, thigh, and knees are all pressed together as my lips begin to move with his. The way I imagine his lips on mine, it meets the expectation. My heart races faster, and the only matters to me is his lips on mine, moving softly, needy, and passionately. He keeps it gentle, as if he presses too hard I might break. But I need this. I need him. So I press myself, if possible, to him and take control of the kiss, ravishing his lips as if it's the most precious thing in the world. It is. He is.

I'm suddenly scared, scared that this is only a dream, scared that this is only a figment of my imagination, but when he presses more into me, I only wish that if this is either a dream or just my imagination, I never want to wake up; I just want to be closer to him, to feel every inch of him against mine, to feel the thud of his heart, pounding against his chest as my fingertips rest on his chest where his heart lies.

The sparks, the fireworks, the butterflies fluttering in the stomach, they are all real as Dale and I kiss, our lips moving as if they are molding into one. My back is pressed on the wooden door, and the knob jiggles, as if someone's trying to break into the bathroom but neither Dale nor I give it attention. I moan out loud, when he bites, tugs, and nibbles on my lower lip and my hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer to me and bringing our lips together. "Beau..." he moans out, panting, breathing out loud, and that's when it clicks to me... he's supposed to explain things to me. I pull out immediately, pushing him away with force, and he looks at to me with his swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. "What...?"

"You shouldn't have done that," I say, shutting my eyes close, thinking this is just a dream. I back away from him, though my back is already pressed hard against the wooden door. He nears me, his arm stretching out and resting on either side of me. Dale leans down, closer to me, I feel it, his presence. When I open my eyes, I see how pained he is, how helpless he is. I wish this is not a dream. "You're not... you're not gay. You're not even interested on me. Why'd you kiss me? You kissed me like you meant it, and then I can foresee what will happen next; you're going to walk away from me, as if nothing happened between us, as if the kiss never happened, so just stay away from me. For the first time, let me be the one to walk out."