Nathaniel Jean's Senior Year

9: Nathaniel Jean's Exciter/Inhibitor

Another update so soon? Am I feeling inspired or am I procrastinating on hw?

I'm procrastinating.

***

"Who the fuck invented December," Lucas grumbled as he climbed out of the warmth of my car into the frosty winter air. I suppressed a chuckle at the way he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and all-but ran to the front door of his house.

I followed leisurely behind him, watching as snowflakes floated down from the sky without a rush in the world and joined their companions on the ground. The scene would have been peaceful, had it not been for Lucas fumbling with his keys and cursing like a sailor.

The moment the door was open a crack, his body disappeared inside. Lucas Morgan liked a lot of things, but the cold wasn't one of them.

I walked in slowly after him, shutting the door behind me, while he occupied himself with furiously rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them.

"Here," I said. I took his hands between my own and held them together; his fingers were freezing. Lucas let me, and I wasn't sure if the pink color of his cheeks was due to the cold, or if I'd made him blush. "Better?"

Lucas shook his head. "My hands, yeah. The rest of me could use the same treatment, though."

He didn't wait for my response. He rested his body against mine and I complied to his unspoken wish, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His own arms circled my torso, and his head leaned against my shoulder. I could feel the poor boy shivering, and it only compelled me to hug him tighter.

    "This is so gay," he muttered, and I chuckled.

     "No homo."

It was moments like these when being friends with Lucas Morgan was really great. Really, really great. And really, really, really confusing. Because we didn't act like friends.

Lucas was a naturally cuddly person, I'd learned. He liked physical affection; holding others and being held by others. And I sure as hell loved to hold him and he held by him. Why watch a movie sitting on opposite ends of a couch when you can be snuggling in the middle?

I liked the way we were. I liked the fact that I could rest my head on Lucas' shoulder and not feel weird about it. I'd never had that kind of relationship before. Where touch sometimes held more value than words. Not with my parents, or my sister—definitely not with my friends.

The only problem?

It was excruciatingly frustrating. To sit so close that our shoulders bumped, or to feel his hair brush my cheek. So many times, I could've kissed him. I wanted to. He wanted me to. Perfect moment after perfect moment seemed to be thrown at my face in big, bold, highlighted font to ensure that I wouldn't miss them. The opportunities were strangely infinite, and I knew Lucas saw them as clearly as I did. He held back, though, and I hesitated. Every damn time, I hesitated, and then the moment would be gone.

The fact was, I still had no idea if I was ready to offer Lucas a legitimate relationship. He'd helped me so much over the past several weeks, and my mental state now was drastically different than it had been at the beginning of the school year, or even the beginning of last month. I was finally learning to be almost satisfied with myself. The good nights were starting to outnumber the bad.