Our faces were so close, the closest they had been in the two and a half weeks we had really gotten to know each other. I couldn't see his eyes anymore because my eyes were solely focused on his mouth. I never realized how perfect his lips looked until I got this close. They looked soft, like ripe fruit. If only I could taste them.
We had been laughing and arguing just a moment earlier. He was showing me a song from some obscure guy that no one had ever heard of. I told him the song sucked and he told me I could fuck off and go to hell because it was the greatest song I had ever heard and I wasn't appreciating it.
My breath was getting short, like my patience. I was going to kiss him.
I let my eyes wander up to his for just a second, only to find he was looking at my lips. He glanced up and smirked because we both realized we were thinking the same thing.
In a way I could barely remember, my lips finally closed the gap between his. It lasted for an eternity and only a fraction of a moment. We pulled away slowly, shyly looking at each other.
"Was that okay?" His accent was candy for my ears. He was from a small village in the middle of nowhere south of England; an accent of a farmer, or so he claimed.
"Yeah," I replied, "I had been wanting to do that for days now."
"Why did you wait so fucking long then?" His outrage was in jest, but he did have a point. I was leaving in an hour.
And I wasn't coming back for a while.
"You could have kissed me too." I fired back. His deep blue eyes looked at me wryly; I was already getting transfixed with them.
"We really should stop wasting time."
Without another word, and with more confidence this time, we fell into each other. Kissing more deeply I felt myself letting go.
I let my hand wander through his thick, curly hair, twisting the golden brown rungs. His hands slipped up my shirt and pressed themselves against my back. I barely remember him doing that. His fingers lingered over the clasp of my bra, but instead he moved them down to my sides Without thinking I let my teeth sink firmly into his lips.
"Fucking hell." He said pulling away from me. A wry smile assured me that he was loving it.
"I'm really sorry. I just do that sometimes, the biting thing. I'm so sorry." I added just for good measure in case he actually hated it.
"Nope, that was bloody brilliant. I've never been bit before, and I can honestly say I thoroughly enjoyed it."
I positioned myself on top of him. My legs were wrapping around his waist, his hands still up my shirt, sitting comfortably at the small of my back.
"Yeah?" I added once more, just because not everyone loves being bit. Like my boyfriend, for example. Or was he my ex-boyfriend at this point? That fact still remained unclear.
"It was well good. We should probably continue with it or something."
I leaned in and started biting his lip, tenderly to start, but a little more firmly soon after.
"Like now?" I asked while my mouth was still pressed to his.
I could feel him smirk against my lips. I pulled him as close as I could. I wanted him so much with too little time. His tongue slipped past my lips and I was pleasantly surprised. Bold for a boy who was afraid to sit next to me because he scared he was cause unwanted touching.
I pulled away to check the time.
"Time to go?" He asked with a forced enthusiasm. He was trying to get me to be excited about going home all night.
Already, tears were stinging my eyes. I didn't want to cry in front of him. I didn't want him to think I was crying for him, because I wasn't, not exactly anyway. I was leaving England after having the best three months of my life. My new friends and a culture I grew to love were being ripped from me, just when I was getting used to it.
"Yeah, it is." I said finally.
"We don't have to, I mean, you don't have to, I don't know." I was shaking.
He grabbed my hands and I just love how they felt to be entangled with his.
"We'll figure it out. We can make this work."
In that moment, I believed him. Every single word of it.