by Riley Jean
Funny thing about perception. All this time I never let myself see this side of Vance. Even as our friendship grew, I’d always kept him in a box—the “friend zone.” He was a goober. My goofy friend. A nice guy. But recently, with his wisdom, persistence and comfort, I was beginning to see him as something more. I was beginning to look at him like a woman looks at a man.
Deep green eyes sparkled beneath impossibly long lashes as he gazed up towards the heavens. His pronounced chin and cheekbones were relaxed in a content smile. Even the small sprinkle of freckles on his nose warmed something inside me. And his lips… oh my, those lips. How had I never noticed how perfectly smooth and soft they looked? So pink, and full, and incredibly…
Finally sensing my stare, he lowered his gaze back down to me.
Oh dear… Had he just caught me ogling his mouth? I wasn’t sure. But like a preteen with her very first crush, I blushed anyway. Just in case.
We laid there facing one another, me on my back and Vance propped up, still as statues. A different kind of tension grew between us as we tried to read the other’s thoughts, the stars long forgotten.
Still braced with one arm, his free hand slowly lifted towards my face. I held my breath as he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, pausing to gently brush my earlobe with the pad of his thumb. We watched each other, both cautious but aware of something happening between us. He didn’t swoop in during my moment of weakness. He was giving me every opportunity to retreat. But I didn’t move to stop him.
His fingertip continued down the line of my jaw. It was a light, simple touch. But after refusing contact for so long, the pleasure it gave me was indescribable. Something bottled deep within me had been starved and neglected for eight long, lonely months. And it wanted out.
Once he reached my chin, he tilted it upwards, lifting my mouth closer towards his. He put his weight on both elbows and held himself over me, cupping my face with his hands. Just holding me like he was holding something precious. Staring down at me as if I was everything he ever wanted.
It was all too much. I had to close my eyes. Even without sight, I could feel his desire. All I could think about was that I had never known intimacy like this, and it’d been so long… so long since I felt close to anybody at all. I was overwhelmed… near tears even. And Vance did all that to me. He made me willing to give a piece of myself that had been locked away. He awakened feelings I’d been too afraid to face.
And he hadn’t even kissed me yet.
My body ached in anticipation, needing more of him and feeling terrified of him all at once. A tiny voice in my mind warned me that once we crossed this line there was no going back. But I shoved it down. Was there still a reason behind it all? Or was I just saying no for the sake of saying no? The fear shrunk a little more with every passing second that Vance’s skin touched mine. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was him holding me like this.
When my eyes finally opened again, our faces were mere inches apart. I matched his imploring gaze, recognizing the mixture of restraint and longing because the sensations I was experiencing were one and the same.
With a slow lick of my lips I gave him my answer. Kiss me, I pleaded wordlessly, gazing steadily into his eyes. My reservations were forgotten for the moment. I just needed to feel a pair of lips against my own. This time I wasn’t going to stop him.
Ever so slowly he leaned in. I didn’t close my eyes until the very last second. At last his lips touched mine… gentle, steady and sweet in one lingering kiss.
From the moment we connected, I was lost in a sea of dizziness, my blood rocketing through every inch of my body on a hell-bent mission. It held all the excitement of a first kiss, wrapped in a familiar blanket of Vance—my best friend, someone I cared about and trusted. In his arms was exactly where I belonged. It warmed me from the inside out.
He backed up then, still hovering over me but not touching. Our soft panting floated on the silence as we stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes bounced between mine, assessing, as reality sank in…
Holy fireworks. That just happened. I kissed Vance.
And I was forced to consider that maybe a kiss really was capable of breaking magic spells, because it felt like coming home.
My gaze dropped to his mouth, remembering how perfectly my lips had fit there. And in response it came down hard on mine, with more urgency than before. This kiss wasn’t gentle like the first, it was wild and fervid and passionate. When he deepened the kiss, I couldn’t control the heat that erupted or the small sound that escaped my throat. Both seemed to encourage him.
His hands were everywhere, tangled in my curls, gliding over my face, clutching my shoulders, my arms, any piece of me he could get a hold of. He was practically vibrating with desperation, memorizing me like at any second his ability to touch me would be taken away.
I was just as affected by desire. Every sensation amplified, like seeing color for the first time after living in a world of dull grays. I took a moment to catalogue everything about him that drew me in. The minty taste of his breath, his spicy scent, the agonizing sound of his soft groans, the solid feel of him… everything was intoxicating. My heated skin craved his touch, equally aroused and afraid for the moment to end.
I arched into his arms and let him embrace me fully, pulling him closer as well. Our bodies pressed together until there was not an ounce of air between us. Two hearts thumped wildly at their close proximity, reaching out to feel the beat of one another. Lost in this moment, in this kiss, in us.
* * *
A warm exhale blew the hairs at the top of my head, and a hand followed to smooth it.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
A smile already on my lips, I slowly opened my eyes and peered into the purple dawn creeping across the sky and chasing away the stars. A few birds had risen early to greet the new coming day with song.
I was still in Vance’s arms, using his chest as a pillow, our legs entwined. The blanket beneath us was damp with dewy grass poking through, but he was so warm. The sight of familiar trees told me we had stayed out all night in our park.
“I’ve been lied to all my life,” he said. “The best part of waking up is definitely not Folger’s in my cup.”
Blush crept across my cheeks as a memory of kissing Vance last night immediately came to the front of my mind. I couldn’t control my smile. The way he held me, the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. My skin tingled again as flashbacks of his hands on me ghosted down my body. We must have been going at it for hours until we finally grew exhausted and passed out.
“Wow,” was all I could think to say. One arm tightened around me while the other played with my hair, lightly running his fingers through my curls. It must have been a mess but it felt so wonderful I closed my eyes again, at peace. And he let out a long, contented sigh.
“Wow,” he agreed.
We laid like that for a few more minutes, awake and embracing, basking in the glow of our newfound closeness. I couldn’t let myself regret it or dwell on costs and consequences yet. Together, in this park, for this moment, I would allow myself to believe we were just a boy and a girl, that relationships were good and that life was simple.
His nose nuzzled into my hair, inhaling, and making me laugh. “Did you just smell my hair?”
“Yeah,” he said, unabashed. “Vanilla.”
I rolled away and propped my head up on an elbow. He mirrored me, facing each other in the dim morning light.
“How many girls have you kissed?” I asked him, suddenly curious.
His full lips spread into a playful smile. “Two.”
“Two before me?” I tried to clarify.
“No. Two total.”
I was stunned. “So, just me and…?”
“That would equal two,” he said, tongue-in-cheek.
I had to remind myself that he’d had the same girlfriend for the last four years. His deft hands and lips came from perfecting his
skill on one lucky, lucky girl instead of many.
It made sense that he hadn’t been with anyone else during that time. But what about before? Vance was sixteen years old when he starting dating Evelyn. With his confidence, boyish charm and the added bonus of that smile, it was hard to believe he waited until sixteen for his first kiss.
And what about after? It had been a full month since their breakup, and he seemed to bounce back pretty quickly. I thought for sure he’d had at least one other rebound.
“I’m surprised,” I admitted.
He just shrugged, unashamed. I always liked that about him. It was admirable, really, that he didn’t waste his first kiss. Mine was with Lexi’s cousin visiting from Nevada when we were fifteen. I wasn’t boy-crazy back then, but I was the last of my friends to be kissed, so Lexi felt the need to take matters into her own hands. One night she left us alone in her room, and he pretty much backed me into a corner. He was cute, and a few years older. Though as far as first kisses go, it was more intimidating than romantic.
Vance didn’t have any awkward stories like that. All his firsts with someone special.
At that thought, a brief twinge of insecurity passed through me. I wondered if this was weird for him—being here with me. He had only been with one person every day for the last four years, not to mention ever. It had to feel odd kissing someone different for the first time. It was almost as much pressure as being the first, except with all the insecurity of being compared, too. What if he didn’t like the change? What if he was missing his ex?
“How was it…” I asked, feeling a bit shy, “kissing somebody new?”
His eyes closed and he inhaled slowly and deeply through his nose. A serene expression rested on his face, his smile filled with peace and his natural sunshine.
“Incredible,” was all he said.
Warmth spread through my belly at his sentiment. I believed him. Last night was incredible, after all, and I had kissed enough boys to know it wasn’t always like that. My number was nowhere close to two (though there might’ve been a two in there somewhere). I was grateful he didn’t ask.
Looking at his face, all of my insecurities vanished into thin air. Never in my life had I made a boy make that expression before. He looked euphoric, like even though we never took it further than kissing, it was enough for him.
His fingers trailed lightly up and down my arms, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so sated. In this moment, there was no wall between us. I was completely relaxed in his arms.
“It’s nice to be able to touch you, without you hating it,” he said softly.
“Mmm. I never hated it,” I confessed. “It’s just… addictive.”
“You’re addicted to my touch?” he asked, a pinch of smugness in his tone while his light touches turned into grabbing my hips and pulling me closer. “Good to know.”
“No,” I laughed, putting his cocky ass in his place. “A guy’s touch in general. It takes me away from the world for a little while.” I gazed dreamily into the horizon, remembering the way my senses came alive and freed me last night. “There’s something about a guy’s touch that makes a girl feel wanted, beautiful, and satisfied.”
I supposed, in a way, everyone was a prisoner to their own fleshly desires—especially with teenaged hormones coursing through their veins.
But not me. At least, I hadn’t been.
At nineteen, I’d abstained more than most. I was always able to keep a clear head when opportunity presented itself. But now, more than ever, my need for contact made me lose myself when I needed my wits about me. Like last night.
What was happening to me?
After that night, I had sworn off men forever. But somewhere along the way I had developed a need so deep, it surpassed practicality or sense. It might have been a void left by one of the three important guys in my life, or perhaps by my scandalous rebound summer in college. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d barely touched anybody in these last eight months.
Whatever the case, I no longer wanted to fall in love, but my physical urges were out of control. Last night, with Vance, I craved his kisses like a druggie needed his next fix. It didn’t matter the cost or morale or risk or consequence. Nothing mattered. I needed it. And giving in was cathartic.
“Okay,” Vance chuckled suggestively. “I understand satisfied.”
I lightheartedly poked him in the ribs. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s not even about sex. It’s connecting to another human being. Feeling like I’m not alone. And everything else that’s wrong in the world falls away for a little while.”
Whether I was drunk and kissing strangers, hiding in Ricky’s bedroom, or lying in a grassy field in Vance’s arms, I knew that I was running from my problems. Not that there was anything wrong with kissing a boy or having a drink. The problem lied with my addiction to the escape, and my growing inability to face my real issues.
The temptation to fall into old habits and replace one lost love with another always existed, but chasing that feeling by jumping from bed to bed was not a healthy way to cope.
So I fled from that temptation. It wasn’t about how close I could get to the line without crossing, it was about staying as far from the line as possible. Which is why I had denied myself even the smallest of touches for the past eight months.
His knuckles lightly brushed my cheek while he looked at me with tenderness. “Then why don’t you allow anyone to touch you?” he asked softly.
My eyelids slid closed. There were a couple reasons, but I could tell him this one. “I couldn’t bear it,” I confessed, my inhibitions down. “I know you won’t believe this, seeing as I always get mad at you for doing this. I have trouble keeping my own boundaries. It’s like, as soon as I tell myself I won’t drink anymore, I want one. I can justify a sip. It’s only a small taste to satisfy the urge. And then, it’s only one drink. A person can still drive if they only have one drink, so that’s nothing, right? Then it’s just one more, because you’re not even feelin’ any effects. Then just one more… and before you know it, you’re piss-drunk and flat on your ass. It’s a slippery slope. And the only way to avoid the fall is to never take that first sip.” My eyes opened again, awaiting judgment.
He looked thoughtful. “So… are you telling me you’re an alcoholic? Or a sex addict?”
I shoved his shoulder, but appreciated his levity. “My problem with alcohol is that I can never have just one…”
“Please don’t tell me it’s the same with men.”
I laughed and shook my head. Then I grew serious. “My problem with men is… it always starts out with the best of intentions. But someone always gets hurt.”
He looked into my eyes and whispered a promise, “I won’t ever hurt you, Rosie.”
I nodded. I knew that. He wouldn’t hurt me because this time I wouldn’t let myself fall. He was curious, I was lonely, we hooked up. Sure, we had one perfect night together and it was amazing. But once that sun came up, my expectations from him would end. Expectations only led to disappointment.
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Did you want this to happen?”
I looked into his eyes. This was important for him to hear. “I never intended to take you from your girlfriend. This never even crossed my mind. You’ve always been just my friend. I meant it when I told you I had kissed dating goodbye. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone.”
“Sorry I pushed you off the wagon,” he grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic.
I frowned, realizing how right he was. It hadn’t even been a full year since I had sworn off guys for good. I had been taking little sips, making friends and letting myself get close to Vance. Now I was lying here drunk with feelings of ‘comfort’ and ‘safe.’ For the first time since last night, I was beginning to worry about the hangover.
“Hey,” he assured me, reading my expression. His fingers gently turned my chin to face him. “You do have boundaries. We didn’t go too far
, right?”
Part of me agreed with him. We’d spent hours making out and he never once pushed me to take it further. It was just kissing and I had done that plenty of times before. How could that be going too far?
But another part of me hadn’t wanted even this. Not ever. Definitely not so soon.
The heat of the moment was waning, and I was beginning to gather my senses. I wasn’t being fair to him. I had secrets and demons that he knew nothing about, and here I was lying next to him as if I were capable of making him happy. I had crossed a line that I had adamantly set for myself. Failure was a bitter pill.
I took a shaky breath. “You have to understand something. I’ve spent years looking for the next guy to fix problems the last one left. Nathan, Miles… at least a dozen Todd’s in between. It’s destructive. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. I’ve got scars, Vance. Big ones. And you have to accept that you can’t fix me.”
“I understand,” he said, kissing each one of my finger tips without breaking our stare.
I smiled hopefully. Could it really be this simple? He wasn’t pushing me to commit more than I was ready to commit. He wasn’t under any illusions that he was going to be my new hero. He was just giving me what I wanted—one night.
“Rosie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re beautiful,” he said meaningfully. Then leaned down to press a slow, sweet kiss on my lips. “And wanted,” he rasped against my mouth. This time he leaned down to taste my neck, slow and sensual in a way that made my toes curl. When he came up for air, his face was serious, eyes dark, voice low and gruff. “Now what can I do to satisfy you?”
Are there any words in the world a girl would rather hear? I might have actually melted into a puddle. Vance had turned me into a grinning fool, just like him.
“Will you snuggle me?”
He chuckled at my request, and rolled me so my back was tucked into his chest. We were spooning, facing east to catch the glorious sunrise brewing. The deep purples blended into lighter pinks and golds and I knew it was sure to be a spectacular sight.
