Cloud 69

37:

I undid each of the buttons on his shirt, as quickly as my fingers could manage. I gave up after three buttons, and decided to just rip it open, never taking my lips off of his. One of his hands had a tight grasp on my hip, and the other was slithering up my back under my shirt. 

I couldn't tell how long we had been here, minutes or hours. His tongue down my throat, my legs on either side of his torso, our bodies pressed together. The position was so familiar, we had been here a thousand times before. 

Suddenly, he had stopped kissing me. In fact, he was pulling away from me. And then, he pushed me off of him.

"No," he said, deep in thought. "No, we can't do this."

"I'm sorry?"

He looked at me, his head tilted to the side. 

He leaned in and kissed me. But not like before. This one was short, and closed-mouthed, and he pulled away almost as quickly as he had come on.

"I'm not having sex with you again."

"And why not?"

"I'm taking you on a date first."

I choked on my saliva. I couldn't imagine Carson being the "date" type. In fact, he isn't really the "boyfriend" type either, yet here we are having feelings for each other. 

"You're being serious?"

He nodded his head, "If we just sleep together now, it's just as meaningless as it was a few weeks ago. You mean more to me than just sex, Madeline."

"Carson, I don't need-"

"I'd do anything if it was for you."

"But I don't need to be taken on dates. You're enough."

He stared at me in silence. I sighed, but flipped myself around so that I was laying between his legs, leaning back against him. His arms came around me, settling in my lap.

"A date?" I asked. 

"A date," He repeated. 

"A date?"

"You're really ruining this for me right now."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Where?"

"You'll find out."

I started playing with his fingers absentmindedly, thinking about this 'date' and how absolutely terrifying it sounded. 

"Does it have to be our first date, though?" I asked. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

I rolled my eyes, "First dates are so boring and awkward. And then it's like 'oh should I kiss him?' and 'oh, did he like me?' I don't want to go on a first date."

"So, what do you suppose we do?"

"We can just pretend we went on our first date already, duh."

"Oh yeah?" He laughed. "Okay, what did we do on our first date?"

I looked up at him, studying the way his face looked from his angle. God must've been proud of himself when he sculpted out that jawline. And then there were his eyelashes, so thick and long, and such a waste on him. The fluttered all innocent over his bright green eyes that pierced into you if you looked for too long. Eventually, I managed to get back to his question, thinking about it for a moment before responding:

"Well, you came to pick me up at 6."

"We're living in the same house, idiot," He responded. 

"Okay, whatever, I met you at your car at 6."