El held the door with her shoulder and leaned into the room. She searched the wall until her hand fell upon the light switch. Flipping it on, she was met with a space that looked no larger than it had before. Quite the contrary, it looked even smaller now that their bags littered the corners, clogging up the minimal empty space… leaving the bed as the only large expanse of clear space in the entire room.
Mike entered behind her, brushing against her without awareness as he passed. His arm skirted softly along her shoulder, causing a fresh shimmer of sensation to glide down her spine. Her eyes locked upon him as he crossed through the tiny vestibule and into the room, catching at his feet and scanning up the full length of his well-fitted jeans and his lean back, wrapped in the softest looking green sweater...
She swallowed hard.
She was nervous. Very nervous.
But it was definitely not the kind of nerves that she was used to.
Tonight, she wasn't worried about finding a way to connect. Rather, she was worried that she might not be able to stop herself from trying to connect… further.
She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something within her had shifted dangerously during dinner. Sure, yes, he was incredibly cute. That fact alone had thrown her into a tizzy from the very beginning of this crazy situation. Yet, somewhere between shaking his hand as they'd entered a fictional time-traveling alliance and the enigmatic look in his eye when she'd reassured him that he was a good writer, El had fallen off of some kind of deep end.
The sensation was nameless and it spoke without words. It spoke in the shaking of her knees and the flip of her stomach. In the indelible pull her eyes felt to his every move. It spoke through the warmth that grew in her chest when he laughed and the heady buzz that emanated from something as small as where he'd brushed against her while walking through the door.
She was crushing. Hard.
How could she have expected anything else? The way that he joked was so self-effacing and genuine. It was clear that he was incredibly smart. His mind had such an interesting way of toiling over even the most inane things, his replies continually keeping her on her toes. The expressions that lit up his face as he talked and listened… they were so deep and warm and alive...
Of course she was feeling this way… He was wonderful.
With a deep breath, El let the door slip from her fingers. The door latch seemed to echo through the room as it caught, closing them in. Alone.
Mike turned at the sound, his fingers raking through his hair, a hint of hesitation tightening at the edges of his eyes.
She felt it too, and with a tremulous flutter, she grasped for relief. This time, relief was a tangible object. It resided within a small bundle that she'd made with her sweater. A half-bottle of wine, swiped from a nearby empty table at the restaurant. She'd taken it for this exact reason. As a diversion, a distraction... As a concrete place to put her lips.
Mike, however, did not seem prepared for the bottle's arrival. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"I noticed it on the table next to us," she said with a guilty spark, "They'd abandoned it."
Mike let out a teasing laugh. "You're a thief! I thought your dad was a cop!"
"I'm not a thief!" El gasped playfully, her hand coming to her heart, "This was going to go to waste. I'm just… recycling it!" And with that, she brought it to her lips. The red wine was more acidic than the bottle that they'd been drinking before, but she tried to ignore it. Pulling it away, she offered it in his direction.
He caught her eye as he accepted the bottle, his expression unreadable yet heavy…
...and in that instant everything for her got very real.
She could feel each square foot of the teeny tiny space, with its single icy window and its heavy door closed upon them. She could almost hear the silence, it's emptiness pressing in around both of them. Mostly, she could feel the heat. But that wasn't coming from the air. That wasn't coming from the room.
That was coming from her.
Wine?! What was she thinking?!
She was tipsy, yes! But she was not drunk enough to forget that some sense of decorum needed to stay in place! Instead, here she was, chucking extra wine on the fire?! There were so many reasons for her to keep her cool. Her mind frantically screamed them at her as he drank. He could have a girlfriend! Maybe he was gay! It was possible that he was just a really nice guy who didn't see her that way at all! And here she was… one step away from launching herself at him.
She really really really needed to stop. Now.
"Do you want to watch TV?" El chirped, wincing at the high frantic pitch of her voice. She spun to the TV behind her and flipped it on in an instant. Sound filled the room, slicing through her tension with the voices of an Italian news show.
Mike regarded her with a curious chew of his lip, "Sure, but I'm going to warn you it's likely going to be dubbed into Italian."
She waved off his facts with her hand and quickly crossed the room, dropping down to sit on the far edge of the bed. So far at the edge, in fact, that she was at risk of falling off. "Maybe you can translate, then?"
"Oh?" Mike replied, his eyebrow raising in playful self-deprecation, "So you want a full fictional retelling of anything we watch?"
El was pretty sure that at this point she would listen to his fictional retelling of literally any story ever written, but she bit back her thought and simply nodded, smoothing out her skirt and pulling her most innocent closed lipped smile as she did so.
"Ha, okay," Mike grabbed the remote and shuffled back to the bed, placing the wine bottle down between them on the floor. She was aware of the care with which he chose his own spot to sit, settling toward the other far end of the bed, giving her the maximum amount of space.
Yes. Space. A very good thing to maintain.
She found herself calculating the inches between them as Mike surfed the channels. Each one felt like a useful tool to bring herself back to reality. Forcing a deep mind-clearing breath, she turned her attention to the TV.
Maybe this was nothing, she tried to remind herself as the channels passed. Maybe the driving momentum of her heart was not a result of overwhelming attraction, but rather due to simple deprivation? Maybe spending time with anyone would have felt this intense after the weeks that she had spent alone?
Maybe?
"El?"
She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Mike. To his big eyes regarding her with the slightest hint of worry. It was incredible, the stark contrast between the pale of his skin and the dark depths of his gaze. It was a duality that seemed to turn off the words in her brain. He was chewing his lip again, his teeth pinching down enough to heighten the red stain of his lips, full and lush and -
"El?" He repeated, his brow creasing, "You okay?"
Oops. She wasn't talking.
"Y-yeah," she blurted on a quick exhale, pulling a hurried smile, silently counting the inches between them again, as though it was a mantra. "Did you say something?"
"Yeah," he benevolently let her odd behavior slide. He gestured to the TV, "I was asking if Home Alone was okay. There's uh… not much else."
El looked at the TV and made a split second calculation:
A movie about a ten year old boy enacting vigilante justice on home intruders… A family film about vengeance and the Christmas spirit… A movie completely devoid of flirting, first kisses or any scenes where the lights dimmed and clothing disappeared…
It was perfect.
El nodded and Mike put down the remote in reply. The dubbed Italian voice that replaced Macaulay Culkin's filled the room. The young boy was curled up in a chair on the screen, doing much the same as them: staring at a tv with a remote in his hand. Yet, he was surrounded by treats. Decadent ice cream. Soda cans. Bags of chips...
Every part of her frenzied body began to beg for those distractions as she watch. Distractions for her fingers. Distractions for her lips. Distractions for her stomach, so that maybe it would finally stop flipping.
"We should have made them feed us dessert," El found herself saying.
"Are you still hungry?"
She ventured a glance Mike's way and noted his surprise.
"Hungry? No," she looked back at the TV and dropped her voice, her admission coming out like a guilty secret, "But wanting snacks? Always."
Mike went silent and El tried to focus back on the movie, but after a few seconds the bed beneath her creaked.
Mike had bounded to his feet.
El looked up in surprise, "What are you doing?"
"Oh!" He jerked his thumb toward the hallway, "I saw a vending machine, I can - "
"- Oh! You don't have to - "
He waved her off as he opened the door, "I saw something in the vending machine that you, um, that you have to try. I'll be right back."
And like that... he was gone.
El wasn't sure how long she stared at the door in surprise, her jaw slack as she attempted to catch up. But once she did, the agonized giddiness inside of her became irrepressible.
"Ohmygod-" The whisper fell from her lips as her body collapsed backward upon the bed. He had just run to get her treats?! It was such a tiny kindness, and nothing to read into, but that didn't stop her from doing it anyway. Her mind followed him down the hallway, her heart beating fast as she pictured him doing something as mundane as choosing buttons on a machine to get her snacks.
She groaned, her hands streaking through her hair with a tense pull. In his absence, she could feel the physical toll that he was taking on her. She could feel the muscles in her face that were beginning to become sore from smiling, and the butterflies that were wreaking absolute havoc in her stomach. Her eyes slipped shut but her smile remained stuck there, playing upon the hot rosy blush of her cheeks.
She let out a frustrated whimper.
She really needed to pull it together.
The door creaked and El snapped back up to sitting, once again smoothing out her dress so that it didn't ride up her thighs. Mike shouldered the door open. In his hands was a small bundle of snacks. He smiled sheepishly and dropped his bounty in the expanse of bed between their seats.
"You really didn't need to do this," El said, though she couldn't hide her grateful smile.
"No, it's fine," he reassured her. He picked up his first choice from the small pile as he sat back on the bed, a chip bag labeled 'Crik Crok'. "Have you had these? They're probably my favorite Italian snack food."
"I haven't."
He looked back at the pile, thoughts moving quickly through his expressions as though he was trying to calculate something. Then, decision seemingly made, he dropped the chip bag and looked back up to her, his eyes earnest, "You strike me as more of a sweets person than chips, am I right?"
El tried not to let her smile grow larger. She failed. "You are correct."
Mike nodded obediently, "Then how about..." he plucked a package from the small pile and presented it to her with a playful flourish, "Nutella Breadsticks?"
El knew that her pupils had gone wide. "Yesssss…" she purred, accepting the package.
"And then," he examined the two remaining packages before shrugging, "I have to admit I haven't had either of these. I don't know if they're any good. I just emptied all my pocket change into the machine and this is everything I could get."
"This is amazing, " El beamed, "I can give you money when we land?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Mike replied with a brush of his hand, "It's just pocket change. It was probably just going to go into the back of my junk drawer when I got home, anyway."
"Okay, well, thank you?"
Mike smiled back in reply, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink, "Yeah, no problem."
His smile was so delightful. Boyish. Innocent. Kind. She -
Distractions. She needed them. Now.
El quickly turned back to the TV, her fingers fumbling against the wrapper of the Nutella, ripping it opening, and doing everything in her power to focus on anything other than the young man beside her.
Luckily, it actually worked. Well, at least a little bit. The myriad of distractions all at once overloaded her senses just enough to chill her out, and for a little while Mike and El fell into a more simple rhythm. Mike answered El's translation questions between the crunching of chips and careful sips of wine. And El? She paid more attention to the snacks, her fingers quickly becoming sticky and her lips dusting with powdered sugar.
And as time went on, Mike showed himself to be an excellent translator. Maybe he wasn't getting all the words right, but he was definitely selling it well. He had fallen into a habit of giving each character a different voice, a choice that resulted in him performing his own little impromptu radio plays for her during scenes with multiple characters. As the movie played on he got more animated, his face lighting up whenever he spoke, moving his hands and almost acting it out as he went. It was honestly more entertaining than the movie itself, and little bit by little bit it made everything feel easy, once again. Just like at dinner.
Mike didn't seem nervous about their circumstances. He didn't seem to be worrying about what would happen... or would not happen. He just seemed to be enjoying his night, his energy so genuine and dorky and easygoing that she almost could have forgotten all of the crazy details that had brought them here. And while it didn't necessarily ease her attraction to him (quite the opposite, really), he was making the situation itself easier. And for that she was immensely grateful.
Eventually, on the screen, Kevin McAllister pushed a full tool chest down a staircase, trapping the home intruder against a wall.
"You know, I always feel like this could've happened to me." Mike said out of nowhere.
"What?" El turned to him, "You think you're parents would've forgotten you at home for a whole week?"
"Oh, definitely," Mike said with a resolute nod. He laughed then, sardonic and dry, "I can guarantee this could've happened to me. My parents were always distracted by something. They stopped even knowing where we were when I was about twelve. I basically lived at my best friend's house for most of high school."
"They just didn't pay attention?"
"Not really," Mike said, turning to her a bit, "I take it having a cop as a Dad means a tighter ship?"
El shrugged, "Not too tight, but I can't say my Dad was ever unaware of where I was. It was just the two of us, though, so I was easy to keep track of."
"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm the middle of three kids, so it was easy to get overlooked." Mike's eyes trailed back to the TV then and he took another sip of wine. A subtle tension had built up around his eyes.
It was odd, how strong her urge was to reach out for his hand. To clutch his fingers in hopes that it would make the tension bleed from his features. That move, however, was definitely off the table. "You probably could've concocted really good traps for intruders, at least," she found herself offering lightly.
Mike glanced toward her, "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know," El said with a shrug, "You seem really smart and creative? I bet you'd outwit all of the home intruders."
He smiled then, though it seemed like he was trying to fight it back, making his lips contorting in such an adorable way. He didn't say anything else, but he didn't look back at the TV either. Whether it lasted for a second or a minute, El wasn't sure. She was too busy relishing in how his face had softened at her words, wanting to study each bit of his expression, happy she could have said something to make his cloud of unease slip away.
Almost like snapping out of a trance, Mike's eyes popped open wide. His lips began to stumble, "Um… so," he cleared his throat and looked down to the small pile of empty wrappers between them. "Which one was your favorite?"
"Oh," she looked down at the trash, as well. The answer to the question wasn't the first thing that dawned on her when she looked down,though. Instead, she couldn't help but notice that the inches between them had shrunk, almost by half… She kept her attention resolutely glued to the wrappers, though, contorting her features to make it look like she was considering his question. After a few seconds and a scattered breath, she picked up a package that said 'Mr. Days'. "These were really good. Better than any donuts stateside."
"I'd say I'd want to try one but it seems like you didn't leave me an option," Mike teased.
El winced, "I'm sorry! You seemed happy with the chips!"
Mike's smile went wide, soft, devoid of annoyance, "I'm kidding. It's okay. They were good?"
She felt a bit of blush return to her cheeks as she nodded. "Super good. They had this flavor that reminded me of... Eggos? Just a little bit."
"They tasted like toaster waffles? Weird."
El scoffed, "Weird? I think you mean 'amazing'. I miss them."
Mike pulled a face, "You miss... Eggos?"
El was hesitant in her reply. "Yes?"
"But - didn't you say you traveled through Belgium? Didn't you get to eat, you know, real waffles?"
El nodded, "Oh yeah, I ate many Belgian waffles. I still miss Eggos."
Mike seemed absolutely gobsmacked by this fact, shaking his head with a snicker, "You're kidding. They're just - "
"Amazing?" she interrupted, swiping the wine from his hand for a drink, "Were you going to say amazing?"
"I was going to say processed," he retorted, his voice turning dramatic, "but it seems my opinion isn't respected here."
El snorted and handed him bak the bottle. "Not if it's disparaging about Eggos."
"So what was was so bad about real Belgian waffles?" he challenged.
"Oh, the real thing was great. Don't get me wrong. They're big and airy and crispy. But the processed version? They have their own charm. Not every cheap mass market thing can stand on its own, but Eggos can."
"Okay," he took a sip of wine and considered her for a moment, the movie at this point long forgotten. He then turned to her fully, brushing the snack wrappers to the floor as he pulled his knee onto the bed between them as he handed her the wine bottle, "So, what real stuff do you think is better than the mass market version?"
"Chocolates." She said it without pause. "The most important thing I learned on this trip is that America has terrible chocolate."
"Really? I don't think I ate, well..." Mike thought for a moment before he shook his head, "Nope, I didn't eat any chocolate while I was here."
"What?!" El cried, scandalized, "What did you do this whole time? Go to class?"
"I was here to go to class!"
El turned to face him directly, her knee pulling into the space between them, just like his. Pointing the wine bottle at him, her tone grew adamant, "Promise me you'll come back and do all the indulgent stuff next time, okay?"
Mike's smile turned up. He didn't speak for a moment, but he eventually nodded. "Yeah, I promise."
"Good." At that, she handed him back the bottle and twisted sideways to reach for her backpack. Catching the strap between her fingers, she tugged it toward her. Unzipping it's front compartment, she carefully lifted out a small box and popped it open before turning back and presenting it to him. "Let this be your first taste. These are chocolates I picked up in Paris. I think they might be the best thing I've ever tasted."
Mike regarded the contents of the box for a moment, each small piece nestled in its own tissue paper. "Best thing you've ever tasted, huh?" his eyebrow quirked playfully, "Better than Eggos?"
El rolled her eyes and jutted the package in his direction, "Just take a chocolate. That is, if you're willing to ruin chocolate for yourself for the rest of your life."
Mike shrugged dismissively, "Well, I don't really like chocolate all that much, so that wouldn't be too bad."
"Oh, you say you that now, but you haven't tried these."
Mike cocked his head, his lips turning up into a maddening smirk. "You're very confident about this, aren't you?"
"Very," she said, scooting closer, pressing the box directly under his nose. "Now, are you going to take a chocolate or not?" Finally, Mike gave in. His long slender fingers hovered over the box. It was clear that he did not know which to choose. Impatient, El chose for him, plucking one from the corner and holding it out to him. He took it from the tips of her fingers. El ignored the slight shock of electricity from his touch and tried to focus on the chocolate, instead. She quickly chose one for herself and popped it into her mouth, savoring the luscious flavor before Mike had so much as taken a bite. Mike regarded his curiously and then finally took a small bite. She watched as he let it melt on his lips, his eyes dropping shut, and then popping open… very wide.
"Oh my god…"
"Right?!" El exclaimed, "Americans have been deprived of good chocolate this entire time."
"Oh my goddd..." he muttered again, inspecting the bit he hadn't eaten yet, "It's so... rich? I was prepared for, I don't know, a Hershey bar or something."
"Nope," she said, taking another chocolate and dropping it onto her tongue. Her words were slightly obscured when she spoke. "Do you believe me now?"
In reply, Mike popped the rest of his chocolate into his mouth and nodded, topping it off with a mumbled, "Yes, I believe you."
The room was silent for a moment as they savored the sweets. El placed the box down on top of her bag and turned back to him. She tried not to notice that their knees were almost touching... but she didn't move back either...
"So, you got these in Paris?" Mike asked.
"Mmhmm."
"What was Paris like?"
"Paris is… beautiful… It's very old world and, I don't know, it feels romantic."
The streets populated her mind's eye. Thin intimate winding cobblestone streets that felt like they led to places she so desperately wanted to explore...
"How long were you there?"
...places that she'd never wanted to explore alone…
El felt a familiar sadness slip over her at the question, just a bit, but she put on a brave face and met his gaze. "I was, um, I was supposed to be there for two weeks, but I left after four days since we moved up my return date."
Confusion clouded Mike's expression, "You weren't supposed to go home today?"
El shook her head, "No I… I had to hurry up the rest of my trip. Not enough money. I stopped in Geneva for a day between here and Paris. I got here yesterday. And now?" she gestured around her, "Here I am."
"Oh, wow. So, you didn't see Italy at all?"
El shrugged, "Nope, not really."
He was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what to say next. "Are you, uh, sad that you're going home sooner than you'd planned?"
The question felt more forward than anything he had asked all night, but the look in his eye was so sincere. And as she regarded him, his dark eyes on hers, soft and welcoming, a whisper in her heart found itself... grateful... that she'd changed her plans.
She shook her head, "No… traveling alone gets… well, it gets lonely."
"I know what you mean," was all he said.
And she could see in his eyes that he absolutely did. She smiled gratefully, and her next words came more easily, "I thought I'd meet other people doing the same thing as me, you know? People going the same direction, or at least some people to spend the day with, but that didn't really happen," she looked away as she admitted her next thought, "Just like, I wanted to share parts of it with someone? Something I saw or something I ate or music I heard. I just, I don't know, I never really thought about companionship before this trip," Her eyes trailed back up to his, "Now it's all I can think about."
Mike was nodding, "I get that."
"Yeah?" her voice was hardly a whisper.
"Yeah," He looked down and began to fidget with a loose thread on the bedspread as he continued, "I don't think I even thought twice about how lonely my trip would be," he rolled his eyes at himself and laughed, "That sounds so stupid now but… I mean, I went to college with a couple of really good friends from home so it had always been easy to make friends. But this semester? I don't know. It was like there was a… a wall between me and everyone else?"
"Yeah," El agreed, her eyes going wide, "It's like... it takes a second to figure out how to relate to someone, but by the time you figure it out the person has usually moved along to the next thing."
Mike nodded with a light laugh, "Not to mention language barriers. It kind of seemed by my third week that all of my classmates just saw me as that weird silent American."
"I'm sorry," El said, empathetic, "At least now you get to go home and see your friends? Are they in Chicago?"
Mike nodded, "Yeah. Well, at least one of them is. My roommate. Then, the holidays are right around the corner so I'll see most of them then," As was becoming a pattern, she could see the gears turning in Mike's mind as his expression changed. He pursed his lips before he spoke, "Will you get to see friends at Christmas? Or like a…" his eyes caught hers before just as quickly darting away, "Like a... boyfriend or anything?"
El's heart fluttered something fierce. Her tongue scramble to reply, "No… I um… haven't had one of those for a while."
"Oh. Yeah, me either. I um- a girlfriend, I mean." He looked up then, smiling shyly. El felt herself doing the same.
It was at that moment that El realized that every distraction that she'd tried to put in place had failed. Her body heat had begun to rise again. The inches between them could now be counted on one hand. Her fingers curled into her dress for grounding. She blinked fast, shaking her head to right her thoughts, "Friends, though? I don't know. All my friends went off in different directions after college, and my dad just moved in with his new wife, so that'll be a new experience. It'll at least be nice to see my dad."
"That's good. Well, at least you had an amazing trip," he said, "I just - god. Getting lost all over the continent, what a cool thing to do."
"Yeah," she nodded, "That part was pretty cool."
"I mean, I'm sure it got lonely but you just went out there and did whatever you wanted on whatever timeline you wanted. And you didn't let anything stop you from doing that," his voice was wistful, "I wish I'd done that instead."
El's heart tugged at his words, and her next words spilled from her without thought, "If I had all the money in the world I'd postpone our flights and drag you around to all the good stuff about Europe."
"That would be amazing," he said without delay, his smile beaming, "because tonight with you is by far my favorite night I've had in Europe and we're just stuck inside drinking stolen wine."
El's heart had stopped at his words. "This is your favorite night you've had?"
Mike laughed to himself, his cheeks beginning to turn pink. "How would anything I've told you about my trip compare to this? I mean," He gestured around them, "I'm spending the entire night drinking great wine and eating the best chocolate I've ever had with this super smart and pretty girl who's -"
Like a snap, Mike looked away, his eyes popping wide, his lips frozen mid-word, as if he were caught in a trap.
"You think I'm pretty?" she asked, her voice dancing with a hopeful waver that she could not control.
His reply was adorably incredulous. His brow curled as he looked back and stared at her in disbelief, "Have you seen yourself?!"
A hiccup of a laugh came from El's chest.
"Yes, you're pretty," He said adamantly, owning the admission with a supremely embarrassed blush, "Really pretty."
It was gravitationally impossible, but El was sure that she was about to float off of the bed. She knew she should have said something in reply. Reassurance. Anything that would put him at ease. Her lips, though… They betrayed her. They took the bait and conspired with the dizzying pulse of her heart, and before she knew it she stretched forward, closing all space between them in an instant, and kissed him.
He emitted a soft moan of surprise as her lips fell upon his, quick and soft. Her senses scrambled with the intimate scent of him, and though her lips fell away from his after a short moment, she lingered in his space, her breath shallow.
"This is the best night of my trip, too." she whispered, hardly able to use her voice.
"W-what?" Mike stuttered, his voice ragged.
A hitch of bravery made her look up and catch his eye. The admission felt delicious on her lips. "This is the best night of my trip."
Mike exhaled sharply in reply. His eyes, almost black, were wide with shock. In that heavy split second of silence a shimmer of nerves shot down her back. Second guesses, retreats, misread signals -
- But then he moved. With a speed that she never could have expected, he reached for her, his hand coming to cradle her jaw as his lips caught hers in a blistering kiss. A whimper escaped her, dying upon his mouth. Sparks flew behind her eyes as she kissed him back, tilting her head just so into the cradle of his hand, and for that moment everything seemed to fade away. The hotel room retreated, and along with it went the city, the date, the year, and every circumstance that had brought them to this moment. It was just him, his hand skirting against her jaw, his lips moving upon hers with a sense of release that made her certain… she had never been alone in how she was feeling.
It was a delicious release.
She reached for him, her hand tracing his jaw in a way that she'd been dreaming about doing all night. Her fingers found their way to his neck, her pinky entering the black strands of his hair. Up on her knees, she pulled even closer, and Mike caught her, his arm snaking around the small of her back in a way that made her stumble over, taking him with her down onto the bed.
Something in her purred ferociously as her body fell into his. She had been deprived of touch, wanting something like this for weeks, but the quality of Mike's touch was so far beyond her sense of comprehension that she could hardly process it. Her body buzzed as his hands slid up her back, firm yet so incredibly soft, with a reverence that made her feel like she was made of porcelain. Her nerves fired in his direction, attempting to escape from her skin, every part of her exclaiming a warm 'yes' over and over again.
It had never felt like this.
She had kissed people before, many times. She had had her fair share of intimate encounters, and she'd almost always enjoyed them. But this? This sense of need? This feeling growing within her that begging to simply melt into him? This was something that she had never felt before.
She never wanted it to end.
And in that moment, bittersweet reality itched at the edges. The hours were ticking away. Leading to different cities. Different lives.
She very possibly only had tonight.
A shock of urgency surged through her, and it made her kiss him harder.
She kissed him for his kindness and his self effacing laugh. She kissed him for the depths of care in his eyes and the soft gentleman that he'd been to her all day and night. She kissed him with gratitude for his companionship. She kissed him for her sheer selfish want. She kissed him so hard that he gasped against her mouth, and she felt him shiver to his toes. Growing delirious, her lips drew away, charting new territories across his jaw. His breath fanned in a surprised huff against her ear, his very essence making itself known. She surrendered her body to him as his arms tightened around her back, shifting her in a way that brought her body tight against his. The rhythm of his breath seemed to pulsate in time with the movement of her lips at the base of his collar bone, her cheek laying against the comforting softness of his sweater. His fingers dug into her dress above her hips as she continued along to the lobe of his ear, bunching the fabric in his fingers in reply to her lips movements.
She didn't even think as her hands darted to the tie of her dress, desperately wanting it to disappear. Fumbling the wrap tie open, she dropped the ties and reached up to her shoulder - but her hand wasn't the only one there.
Clamping down upon her almost immediately, Mike's hand stopped hers and his lips pulled away. She almost whined from the loss, like a splash of cold water.
"El."
His voice was ragged, yet firm. Her eyes slid open to meet him face on, so very close. His expression danced with conflict. Pupils blown wide. Bruised red lips. Cheeks flushed. Hesitation threading through his brow. His eyes dropped shut for a moment as he breathed, heavy and stilted, an internal world cut off from her as he seemed to confer with himself. His eyes slid back open in a flash, a decision made.
"I - I don't want to take advantage of this situation," he finally said, "We've been drinking and we have nowhere else to go except for this room."
"Are you drunk?" she asked, her voice raspy.
He licked his lips, his breath heavy, "A little. Not a lot. You?"
"A little. Not a lot," she agreed. A shudder cut down her as she held his gaze, "You're not taking advantage of anything, Mike. I - I want this."
His eyes widened, deep and so incredibly dark.
Her next words trembled vulnerable upon her lips, "Do you?"
"Do I want this?" he breathed.
El nodded.
"Yes," Mike's exhalation was absolute, his breath continued heavy, rising and falling against her as she laid upon his chest, "I just… I want you to feel… safe."
The softest sensation played on El's heart, and it beamed from her eyes as she held his gaze, "I feel really safe."
"Yeah?" He asked, his expression growing so innocently hopeful.
"Yes."
And at that moment she brought her lips back to his, softer than before. It was stunning, how easy it felt, and the absolutely perfect way that his lips molded with hers. His fingers brushed so delicately against her cheek, catching her hair and slipping it behind her ear, his fingers ghosting ever so slowly against her skin. Her lips fell from his as she relished in his touch, her forehead dropping upon his as she breathed him in.
"Do you have protection?" she breathed.
"You want to do stuff that requires protection?" his whisper was instant, boyish, surprised.
El laughed, befuddled, "Yes? I thought… isn't that what we were talking about…?" her eyes went wide, "Do you want to do stuff that requires protection?"
He stared at her for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. Then, in a flurry, he pulled himself out from beneath her and practically launched himself from the bed. His arms reached frantically for his backpack in a way that was so ridiculous and clumsy that she laughed out loud. He seemed to find what he was looking for quickly. He dropped it on the bedside table and wasted no time before he was back in her arms, his lips finding hers with renewed fire…
How?
How was he lying here holding this amazing woman as the sun rose?
How could he have ever found himself like this? With a vibrating haze buzzing at the edges of his eyes, rendering him in something akin to a trance? How could he have ever been so lucky as to know what it felt like to touch her, or to hear her pleasured gasps pulsating against his ear as he did so? How could so many hours have passed like this, with her skin against his skin?
And how was she still here?! In what world would this girl ever want to lay with him like his? With her hair fanned out on his collarbones, her head cradled gently in his shoulder, her fingers tracing soft caresses against the bare skin of his chest? From the moment she'd kissed him (she'd kissed him!?) she'd been everywhere. Her hands clutching him. Her body pulling close, close, closer into his. Her lips… everywhere. Without stopping. For hours. As though she also, somehow, never wanted to pull away.
How?
Maybe that wasn't the right question to ask. Maybe there were no questions to ask. Maybe he could just allow himself to close his eyes and bask in the absolute mind altering perfection that he was somehow living at this ver moment. Because… wow.
Wow.
Holy shit. Wow.
He had never felt like this before. Not once in his life. Exhausted yet exhilarated. So deeply satisfied yet oddly aching for more. Body on fire but heart so soft that he'd be happy to never do anything again other than to lay here and twist her hair through his fingers for the rest of eternity.
But eternity was the one thing that truly he didn't have.
It was likely that he was getting ahead of herself, but he could feel the loss of her already. It seemed against his better logic to comprehend how he could stop kissing her now that the knew what it felt like. To simply go their separate ways when their time ran out. He knew that the buzz in his body would not simply recede. It would call for her for weeks, begging to return to her. Words materialized on his tongue, desperate and wanting. But he knew better. It was all so premature. Asking to see her in Indiana during Christmas. Asking for the right to call her every day. Asking her to move to Chicago and be by his side every waking moment. He knew that was about ten, twenty, thirty steps too far ahead. And so, he waged a war to make the words die on his tongue.
At least he had now.
His arm tightened around her, his hand resting on the soft skin at the small of her back. She responded in kind, pulling herself closer to him, her heat transmitting directly into his bare skin. He reached up with his free hand and pulled the blankets a little higher up over them both.
"Are you warm enough?" he asked softly against her ear.
"Mmhmm.." she purred, nuzzling deeper into him, her thigh stretching sideways over his leg.
"We should probably try to get some sleep. We probably have to go to the airport in a few hours."
She groaned at his assertion like a disobedient child, "Or," She shimmied up his side and laid her head on the pillow, catching his gaze, her smile sleepy yet playful, "Or… we don't go to the airport and we stay here."
Mike's heart leapt out of his chest.
"You want to stay here?"
"I don't think the hotel would let us, but we could try."
Mike was done hiding the intensity of his smile. He nodded, lowering his voice with conspiring playfulness, "Maybe we could hide."
"Where would we hide?" she asked, her eyes wide and bright.
Without hesitation, Mike pulled the blanket over both of their heads, El giggled, rustling beneath, "We could hide in here. No one would ever find us under here."
"Good idea," El said, and the next thing he knew she had found his lips again, her fingers laying gently against his cheek. His lips felt bruised after so many hours. Yet honestly? He didn't care. He would take any level of discomfort if she wanted to kiss him again and again and again.
It was absolutely breathtaking but... everything about her felt… right? He couldn't explain it. She at the same time felt so new and exciting but also so… familiar? Like he'd known her forever, and like he didn't want to stop.
"El," he breathed against her lips.
"Yes?"
Perhaps being a little forward wouldn't hurt, right?
"If we're, you know, forced out of this hotel room against our will... Maybe I can, I don't know, trade seats or something? Maybe we can fly back to the states together?"
"Where are you sitting?" El said, her voice melodic in her question.
"Business class. You?"
"Definitely not business class," she admitted, "Kind of the opposite of business class. I think I'm in the last row, by the bathrooms."
"Okay, it'll be easy then."
"Huh?"
"Anyone would trade me if they're sitting all the way back there."
El was quiet for a moment. When she did speak, he could hear a smile upon her words, "You'd give up a business class seat to sit in the back with me... by the bathrooms… for a ten hour flight?"
"Gladly," he said, his tone resolute.
El giggled, curling into him, "That is the most romantic gesture anyone has ever made for me."
"Only if you'd want me to."
"Oh," she breathed, her lips crawling up his neck, causing his breath to fall shallow, "I definitely want you to."
And then, El's lips were on his again, in such a gloriously easy way. She pulled herself into him, her fingers mingling in his most definitely messy hair. He gave into her then, breathing a sigh of relief that a little more time with her had been secured. The sense of urgency within him mellowed, and he sank into the pillow, his eyes falling shut beneath the darkness of the blankets. And as they kissed, soft and languid, his mind began to slip away, rest finally finding a foothold.
It seemed mutual, and without noticing they both slipped off to sleep in the early morning sun… with no alarm set for their flight home.
Happy New Years, readers! I hope you a beautiful 2020. 1-2 more chapters of this left!