Vanilla

Twenty Two

A/N: Hi everyone! So I know I'm late by a couple of hours (that's because I'm working in a different timezone now eep so since I always update 10pm at wherever I am, being in London means I'm going to be updating seven hours later than usual. But here is the usual chapter!

Sorry I wasn't able to put up the half chapter on Inkitt :( I wrote most of this on Thursday and Friday. Hopefully I'll be able to do it for the next update! Eep. I'll be updating you guys on my progress on Instagram (hisangelchip) so that you don't always have to be thinking: omgomgomgwhenisleupdate???

Enjoy the chapter!

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[Leroy]

He felt like a snowflake in my arms; a breathing one that smelled like chamomile and nothing else. And when he'd pulled back and felt for his heart after hearing the thundering that was me, I nearly laughed. Why he never seemed to believe anything I say wasn't part of the plan, but it was him nevertheless. He thinks I'm teasing him, sure. It's not like I knew how to make it any more obvious than it already was, it's just. Our thing.

It was the way we were.

Then there are the times I forget about holding back and fingers move on their own. That's before knowing the closest they would ever get was the forehead and that's where they end up most of the time. It was the fireworks, then. Easy to blame for the beat; the cue; the leaning in and then stopping with my eyes closed. Waiting for the green.

I wanted to see how he'd react to something like this. Someone leaning into his space and closing their eyes an inch away before pausing. I saw in the middle of it all—how his eyes had widened and then started darting. Up, down. Left, right. Centre. You could hear the panic in his head and how the alarms going off were driving him crazy in just that one second.

Still, I would be doing something wrong if he wasn't ready, so. Waiting was the only option. Waiting and counting. On three, I felt nothing. And unless Vanilla's lips happened to feel and taste like the ash in the sky, it was how I'd expected it to turn out until I felt something.

A breath. Trembling.

I opened an eye and saw that his were closed. He hadn't moved an inch; not away, and not towards me but just staying where I'd left him, only now he had his eyes scrunched shut and lips drawn a little thinner than before. I stared. Was this a green?

He was close enough for me to see the tips of his lashes quivering, and without the pair of glasses he usually had to mask his eyes that were an easy read, I could tell that he was nervous. That, or actually afraid since it wouldn't take genius to know this was going to be his first. But he wasn't pulling away.

I tested further, waiting and reaching for the back of his neck for a glimpse of his reaction to being pulled a little closer. He froze at my touch and stayed that way without a clue as to what he should be doing next; eyes—still closed.

So it was. It was a green and this was him giving me the final decision but as much as breathing in his scent and musing over his defenceless state wasn't doing any good for my self-control, I knew he wasn't ready. The truth was that I had expected the opposite. A face so startled and shocked that it turned away with fear in his eyes and the likelihood of being repulsed by it all.

And his scent. It was nothing like the honeyed notes I'd thought it would be; nothing syrupy or heavy like the kind of scented candles that advertised fucking cupcakes or ice cream. He was floral from the tea, mixed with an icy sharpness that was almost bitter and so addictive that it was hard to keep my hands where they were.