And yes, his eyes were resting quite heavily on that particular area. I fought the urge to cross my arms and tell him to look at my damn eyes instead of my chest.
“So, um, good night. Red.” His eyes finally worked their way up to my face, and his voice had that soft quality again. I was acutely aware that Hannah was there and pretending that she wasn’t by being really quiet, but I could see her head peering over the top of the couch and watching us.
“Thanks for...thanks for coming.” Lame, Jos. Super lame. Why couldn’t I ever say goodbye to him in a cool way? Or at least a normal way?
“Thanks for...for not being mad at me for earlier.”
“Oh, I’m still a little mad.”
“Could you tell me what you’re specifically mad about so I can figure out what I can do to make up for it? Like, will bringing you Skittles and M&M’s cut it, or will I have to make the jump to flowers or chocolates or elaborate picnics with string quartets and candles?”
I gaped at him for a second. Was he for serious?
Hannah made a squeaking noise that she couldn’t suppress and jumped up from the couch.
“Before you go any further, dude, I think I’m going to excuse myself, because I feel very inappropriate being here. And also like a creeper. So, yeah. I’ll be lurking in the living room.” She skipped up the stairs and shut the door loudly.
“I...I’m lost, to be honest,” I said, going to the couch and sitting down, grabbing a blanket off the back so I could cover my boobs without making it obvious that’s what I was doing.
“Well, I was just wondering what part, specifically, made you mad. Was it because of what I said? Or what I did? Or didn’t do?”
I really wasn’t mad, exactly. Frustrated was a much better term for it. And honestly, not all of it was his fault. I could blame myself for a lot of it.
“I don’t know, Dusty.” He sat down with plenty of space between us. “I’ve never had to work this hard, at something like this.” Whatever this was.
“I’m not trying to make it hard on you, Jos. Shit,” he said, leaning back. “I’ve never worked this hard. I usually don’t have to.”
That made me snort.
“Cocky much?”
“I don’t mean to be. I only went with girls who pursued me. Made it easier that way. Plus, I didn’t get hurt when it ended, because I’d never really wanted it in the first place.” He shrugged as if it didn’t really matter.
“That’s kind of a dick thing to say about other girls, Dusty.”
He nodded and half smiled. “I was kind of a dick.”
“Kind of?”
“I told you, Red. I was a different guy. Like you were a different girl. I don’t judge you now based on that person you were that I didn’t even know.” He had a good point.
“Fine, but I still think you were a dick.”
“You have every right to think that.”
Neither of us seemed to know what to say next, so we just sat and stared at each other. Any minute now the soft music would start to play, and he would lean in and we would share our first sweet kiss. If my life had been written by John Hughes, that would have been what happened.
What actually happened was a little different.
“Fuck it,” Dusty said and lunged across the couch at me, and I was caught so off guard that it took me a second to realize he was pretty much on top of me. “I can’t take it anymore,” he said, holding my face between his hands. “I’ve wanted to taste you since that first night, and now I’m going to.”
I opened my mouth to respond and he seized his moment and kissed me.
He made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a moan, and I let myself go. Stopped thinking about if it was right or wrong, if I should or shouldn’t. This wasn’t a movie, and I didn’t know what my next lines would be. This was life. This was living.
I touched my tongue to his and he took the invitation, and we moved, our lips dancing together for the first time. It was a little rough as we tried to figure things out. It wasn’t perfect, but it was so, so, so good.
He tasted a little like beer, and his mouth was gentle, yet firm. His hands dived into my hair, using it to pull my mouth closer. At this point, he was completely on top of me, with only the blanket between us. That didn’t stop me from feeling just how much he was enjoying the kiss.
This was only a completely different planet compared to all the other kisses I’d had before. Those had been...adequate. Serviceable. Good enough. Kissing Dusty was like...quenching a thirst I’d been living with my entire life. And once I got one drop, one taste, I knew I wanted more. I kissed him like I was drinking him in, taking him and making him a part of me. This was a life-altering kiss.
I did things I could never imagine myself doing. Like trying to pull his shirt off. Or wrapping my legs around him. Or moaning when he sucked on my bottom lip. I now understood why people had sex. Got carried away. This was why.
“I want you so bad, Red,” he said into my mouth.
“I want you, too,” I said, shoving my hands under his shirt to finally get them on those abs. Yep, they were everything I thought they would be. And more.
He kissed my cheeks and under my ear and down my neck. Shit, this was happening. This was really happening.
“Oh, f**k, Joscelyn.”
“Dusty,” I said. Well, it was more of a moan. I didn’t seem to be able to say anything right now without a moan behind it. That might be a problem.
He stopped kissing me and looked down at my face. Why, why had he stopped? No stopping.
“Oh, Red. What have I done?” He kissed me on the forehead and climbed off me.
What. The. FUCK!
He stared down at me as if he’d made some terrible, irreversible mistake. His face was one of horror as he backed away from me. If I wasn’t pissed that he’d stopped kissing me, I might have laughed at the situation happening in his pants.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m...I’m so sorry. I have to go.” He looked at the stairs as if they were his escape route from a certain and imminent death.
I finally put some words together without the moaning.
“Like that?” I didn’t have to point, but he looked down.
“Fuck.”
Pretty much.
“Do you have a sweatshirt or something I could borrow?” His eyes were wide like he was a caged animal. Damn, he was really freaking out, and I didn’t see what the big deal was. Who cared if he kissed me? I was an adult, nearly nineteen. A few months ago, during my crazy phase, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.