|Are You Nervous?
Author: Xerophyte PM
We were pushing our luck and pushing our boundaries, with a million chances to turn back. A million chances we wouldn't take.Rated: Fiction T - English - Suspense - Words: 809 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-27-08 - id: 2601542
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Oh, come on. You're such a wimp!"
Rachel's laughter rang like the pealing of bells as Greg backed off, slowly, afraid of what would happen if he came too close to our fiery ginger friend. She fit the redhead stereotype despite how much she hated to admit it; lovable yet snippy. Feisty. That was Rachel. She wasn't afraid of anything, especially not Greg as he tried to make a game out of getting too close for comfort. But, you see, the thing about Rachel is that when she knows it's just a game and there are no feelings involved, she's fearless.
I, on the other hand, was shaking.
As our group of friends sat on the hill we'd dubbed "Hippie Hill," we pushed our luck, pushed our boundaries, knowing that we wouldn't see these people for another eleven months. What could it hurt, to get all too close? It was just a game, just a game of seeing who could withstand an awkward situation for the longest without either feeling violated or backing off before things got inappropriate. What did it matter, if no one had feelings for anyone around us and we were just doing this for fun?
I didn't fall into this category.
I won a game against Greg, since his fearlessness gave in to his chivalrous manner. He'd gotten too close for comfort, I guess. I trusted him, and it really didn't matter to me how close he came. He didn't make me nervous. Not like her.
She was laughing constantly, knowing her serious seductiveness was enough to make any guy wet his pants. But she wasn't interested in them, I knew. Or, at least, I hoped I knew. She'd had her eye and hand on me for a week now, and I was too terrified or to mystified, I couldn't decide which, to make a move closer. She'd never dated a girl before, and she really didn't know what she wanted or what to expect. Sometimes it felt like she had to like this closeness before she backed away. It sent a shock through me every time I found her hand in mine, a shock of paralyzing fear and pleasure, fear that she'd let go. And she always did.
I guess the idea of being with a girl for the first time scared her. Around anyone we knew that wasn't in our little circle, we were nothing more than suitemates.
But at the time I didn't realise just how far away we were from the term "suitemates." I wouldn't call it "soulmates," simply because I'm not cliché and that's not what she was. As much as she wanted to believe it was just a game, an experiment to be written down and analysed in silence later, whatever it was that was going on between us was much more than that. We were really similar like that, both stepping back from each other's kiss wanting immediately to label both of our feelings with a thousand and four post-it notes. But when we walked away from each other that one last time to live our separate, changing lives, we both knew something was changed irrevocably. Not just her sexuality, her comfort in thinking of girls as something to love rather than just to admire from afar—no, something more. When we finally stepped away from each other, neither of us looked back, no matter how hard we wanted to.
We kept going.
I was breathing in the Hippie Hill that night. The soft grass cradled my skin; the air I breathed was the scent of fresh air and dirt. Suddenly a warm shadow came between me and my view of the stars. Her hair brushed my cheek, sending a chill down my spine.
"Are you nervous?" she whispered.
"No," I lied, breathless vibrato shaking my tone.
She leaned in closer.
"Are you nervous?" I couldn't detect even the slightest hint of fear in her eyes or her soprano voice, as confident as ever doing something she'd never done.
A final time she came even closer. Her lips brushed mine as she almost growled those three words—"are you nervous?"
I tried to ignore my erratic heartbeat as I croaked a simple "no."
And she pulled back.
"What? What is this?" I laughed incredulously, trying to ignore my own frustration.
"Do you really want me to?" She was questioning herself more than she was questioning me. For the first time that evening, I spoke the truth.
"Then are you nervous?" She whispered one last time.
"No," I said, with absolute certainty.
And she kept moving forward, never allowing herself the chance to look back.