She turns from his searching mouth, to look out a window.
"What? What is it?" He asks. As if an answer was readily available. She tells him she doesn't know, isn't one to really share her feelings. But the truth is, she can't vocalize what she's feeling, or why she's feeling it.
To explain to this boy younger than her that she feels so inexperienced. That for someone like her, who usually has control and knowledge, the feeling of spiraling out of control is just too much for her. That it would be so easy for her to fall into his embrace, and that his having a girlfriend really is whats stopping her.
He kisses her again, stronger, more urgent. She falls for an instant, returns the kiss, before more thoughts flood her mind, once again making her turn her head.
She doesn't understand why this is happening. He doesn't really want her, not in the way she's been conditioned to look for. All he wants is her body. At least, that's what she thinks. She sure as hell doesn't understand her reactions to him. He annoys her, and torments her. They never see eye to eye on hardly anything. When she thinks of him objectively, away from him, she knows that he's too immature, too different, too irresponsible for someone like her. Yet when the kissing starts, her body lights up like a flame, burning and yearning for something that only one person before him has made her yearn for before. That person broke her heart, too. She wonders if this is the real root of what holds her back. If she'd really give in if he didn't have a girlfriend.
During the pondering, he has asked what is wrong again, and again she deflects him with a "I don't share" or a "People may see us". Obviously he doesn't buy it, but there isn't much else for him to do. Except kiss her again, which he does. Once again, she can't stop herself from kissing back, from stepping closer to a flame that will most assuredly burn her to a crisp.
His hands start to wander, and his fingers caress her chest, stoking the flame even more. His touch becomes rougher, and she knows she'll have another bruise from him. Another long time reminder of the desire he brings forth and the absurdity of it. The pain mixed with the pleasure is something that no one else knows about her, either, how the bruises that remind her feel deserved somehow. But then he goes gentle again, and as his fingers brush over her nipple, her entire body clenches with need, and it's this clenching that brings her back. She tears away from the kiss and looks back out the window. He tries to coax an answer out of her, but her reply couldn't have answered nearly a tenth of what she was feeling. "I'm so turned on right now. But since I'm not going to have sex with you, because of your girlfriend, we should stop."
Then she runs as fast as she can in heels, away from the desire and temptation, knowing that if he followed her, she be helpless to resist and her moral code may not stand the pressure anymore, that she might give in even if she knows she'll regret it later.
When he doesn't follow, though, she not sure if she is relieved or disappointed. Eventually, though, she decides its relief. Knowing she would have regretted anything later. Knowing that he was probably intoxicated anyway, seeing as being intoxicated and having a girlfriend were the qualifications he needed to approach her anyway.
In the end, it just makes her cry. She sobs silently to herself, before steeling herself against the onslaught of new emotional pain and fixing her make-up to go hang out with more people. At least now she can control the tears, and her masquerade of needing no one and being in control becomes one step closer to reality.
After all, she's gotten this far alone.