I do not own Twilight.
Another short snippet into their past. I am hoping to spend a good portion of the day tomorrow writing up a bunch of small drabbles for this story, so fingers crossed, there may be more than one chapter a day!
First semester, Junior year: high school
The room.
His room.
It's where I've wanted to end up since that first morning I had met him; it's where all the girls at Forks High hope to end up.
He follows me in, hands tucked into his jean pockets as he watches me look around. I drop my bag and sit casually on the chair tucked into his desk. I look up at him, still standing by the doorway, and it's like he's expecting…something. Maybe a compliment, a complaint, a question.
But I have none, and so I lift my feet an inch off of the ground, spinning around slowly to get a full view of his bedroom. It's heavily decorated with classic rock posters, baseball and soccer trophies, vinyl records, license plates from nearly every state…
It's so incredibly him and as I take in the surroundings, my eyes feeling larger than the moon, he relaxes.
He makes his way to the rather large bed in the middle of the room—too large for the actual size of his room—and sits down on the edge, watching me taking everything in. He pulls off the baseball cap that was sitting low over his eyes and runs a hand through is hair. That soft, shiny bronze hair.
His green eyes are bright and thoughtful.
"What?" I eventually ask, a smile tugging at my lips.
He only shakes his head and leans forward so his elbows rest against his kneecaps. "You're the first person I've ever had in my room," he says.
I stop mid-turn, a flag hanging above the closet having caught my eye, and my gaze swivels back to him.
"Girl," I correct, but again he shakes his head. The crooked grin I love so much returns.
"Person," he emphasizes and before I can lift my feet that had slowly sunken back to the floor in my shock, he has a hold of the arms of the chair and is pulling me towards him. The wheels squeak to a fast stop, just between his legs and he bends forward even more.
Our faces are close, really close.
I can see a light yellowish color that rims his pupils, illuminating the emerald irises. No wonder his eyes shine in the sun; they are the sun.
He stares at me for a moment more, his eyes flickering between mine and my lips and I feel like I can't breathe. For once, I am speechless.
He gives the chair another tug and I am rolling into him, watching behind an invisible screen as he leans in and presses his lips to mine.
The taste of his mouth is something I will never get over. I am going to crave it, him, for the rest of my life, I know, as I know every time he has kissed me.
He backs away just enough to whisper, "My dad's fucking crazy," before pressing his lips harder to mine. He slants his mouth and deepens the kiss as my fingers find their way up his arms, to his shoulders.
"You don't have to meet him," he adds after another few seconds and I can hardly manage a response. Being like this with him puts all other thoughts, all other problems on the back burner. I can barely remember where we are, and why we are here, but the digging of his fingers into my thighs brings me back to reality.
"I want to," I manage to get out without completely abandoning his lips.
I shiver as his large, warm hands run up my shoulders and rest on either side of my neck. He lets his tongue flush out along my bottom lip and I'm nearly moaning when he finally pulls away.
Because the chair is on wheels, I have no control over the movement when he pushes me back an inch, but there's a brilliant smile on his face when I glance at him.
The look in his eyes makes me think I have all the control in the world.