𝕤𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠 • 𝕝.𝕙

seven

Luke passed the wine bottle and I drank as much as I could in one go. They weren't calling it liquid courage for nothing, I needed it right now to calm my nerves. I never used to be like that around men, but being with somebody else than Oli for the first time in years was genuinely nerve-racking.

The waves were slowly crashing against the shore, and the sky was this gorgeous shade of purple. It was dream-like, and I wanted to just soak in the moment, appreciate every second of it. I wanted to forget about my responsibilities and my fear of moving on for a minute, to let a connection establish between him and I. I was craving for human interaction more than I ever had. I wanted to give it a chance, despite my growing fears and irrational thoughts.

There was no way I wouldn't fall for Luke if he kept on pulling shit like this on me. I wasn't one for romantic excursions and men trying to impress me, but that time, he had won.

"This is..." I stopped, looking for my words. "Fucking nice. It's beautiful."

"You need to have more faith in people," Luke answered, on a joking tone.

"I know. I don't like it."

"I've noticed, Lex," he replied. "You don't like it when people surprise you."

"You don't know me."

"You're being defensive. Every thing I say, you attack me back. Stop attacking me. Just have a normal conversation with me without feeling like you have to have the upper hand."

I gave him the wine back, clenching my fists and hiding them under my legs. I could feel the sand between my toes, and it felt just like it did when I was a child. The excitement of going to the beach was the only thing that I had ever looked forward to between the age of five and sixteen.

"Fine."

"I'm glad you accepted the invitation, by the way. At long last."

"Why do you like me so much?" I asked, feeling bold. I stared at him, and he was staring right back.

"I never said I liked you, Alexis," he chuckled. 

"I think you do, though."

"Is it because I said I didn't want you as a friend that one time?" he spoke, lower this time. He had a smirk on his lips, and it was beginning to drive me crazy. 

"Stop flirting with me."

"I can't," he shook his head. "I really can't."

I could feel the alcohol slowly getting to my head, maybe the reason I was feeling so bold and was actually flirting with him, instead of pushing him away like I'd gotten used to. I couldn't resist a face like his.

"Fine."

"I want to hold your hand," he said. He was smiling.

The wind was blowing in his curly hair, and even though the sun was going down, he still had his sunglasses on. I wanted to make a snarky remark extremely badly, but kept it for myself, and instead put my hand out to him. He smiled and interlocked his fingers with mine, without a word. 

His skin felt softer than what I expected. The feeling of his hand squeezing mine once, two, three times made me feel butterflies, and I could feel my cheeks reddening. I gave in to the feeling, because the truth was that I loved it. I didn't take one look at him, but I knew he was staring at me. I could feel his gaze burning through me, even with his stupid sunglasses on.

"Stop staring at me."

"Do I make you nervous?" he said lowly, and with his last sentence, I realised he was much closer to what I had anticipated. I could practically feel his breath on my neck.