𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒

I read between the lines and touched your leg

When our eyes met, my heart jumped a little. I wasn't used to feel embarrassed in the presence of a guy, but Matty, still sweating in that suit, always looked so much cooler and wiser than anyone else.

"Hey" he said looking at me through the mirror. He reached the sink to wash his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Matty, what did you do?"

He wiped his hands. "I had a piss"

I rolled my eyes. "Before. You didn't have to expose yourself to stick up for me" I said quietly. "He's just a cunt, he doesn't need your attention"

He lowered his head to look right into my eyes. I leaned a bit back to get a clearer view of his face. I could tell he had shaved that morning. "Did I offend you?" he asked. "I know you can defend yourself. I spoke up because I felt I had to. No one should talk to you - or anyone - like that. It pissed me off"

"I don't care what he said. His words don't touch me"

"Liar" Matty turned his nose up. "Arianna, it is possible to speak up and stay cool"

"I know" I shrugged, looking at him vacant. I wanted to protest I didn't need older brother's advices, but my thoughts and moves were getting slower and my mouth struggled to meet my thoughts.

He sat on the edge of the sink, so we were almost at the same height.

"Arianna, you're stoned, aren't you?"

"No" I quickly replied.

He laughed and, fuck me, he was the definition of sexy and cute.

"Is it that obvious?". I turned to face my reflection. Me and him in the mirror were so close our clothes were touching.

"Not that much" he smiled softly. "You can easily tell when someone's high when you've been an addict"

I frowned. "Addicted to what?"

"To anything, love. Whatever you can inject in your system"

"Wow, rock and roll" I whispered confusedly. I sat next to him, on the edge of the sink. I was feeling a lot more dizzy minute after minute.

"Are you alright, love?" Matty touched my leg, the word love coming out of his lips much more tempting than its actual meaning.

I didn't reply. I was too busy trying to figure out the tattoo on his arm, his sleeve roll-up showing only half of it. I took his arm, his hand leaving my thigh, and lifted his sleeve to read more. Weak messages create bad situations. I didn't know if it was the drugs, but it seems like a badass quote to me.

With my hands still wrapped around his arm, I looked at him. "Thank you", and I wished I said it before.

He nodded before whispering, "you're welcome", his lips parted, pink and full.

Whatever happened that night felt so far away. What was close now was Matty's face, leaning towards me, with the same desire I felt burning in my body. It would have only taken me a nod of the head forward, a quick brush of his mouth with my mouth, a little pressure on his lips. He would have let me in, he would have brushed my cheek - my left cheek, with his right hand, cause I was still holding his left arm to my heart. He would have felt the shape of the cups of my bra pressing against his forearm. I would have sucked his lower lip, breathed, and then tilted my head back, his mouth traveling a short distance from my chin to my neck. He would have felt the urge to unbotton his trousers and I would have taken off my dress.

But his phone rang.

Matty rolled his eyes and I double blinked, suddenly conscious of reality. I let go of his arm. You're not guilty for your fantasies, but you're not innocent either.

"Yeah?" he said.

Was it George? Or Twigs?

"I'll be there, I was waiting in line for the toilet"

He stood up and I looked up at him. I had the same cruel feeling of when you wake up from a beautiful dream and realise, sadly, it was only a dream.

"We leave?" Matty said hanging up his phone. It wasn't a question.