She hates it when he's so wishy washy; she even hates that term.
Day in and day out she often asks herself why can't he be more assertive?, why do the roles have to be reversed?
It not fair for her to be the aggressor; she tried it with Kaji and it never worked out.
So why is it that he can't take the first step?
She opens the door and makes up her mind, and slowly pit-pats to where he is sleeping, and without any consideration plops right next to him. She feels her shorts riding up a bit, flashing a bit more of thigh than she feels comfortable with. She also feels the strap of her tank top slowly sliding down, revealing a bit more of cleavage than she would like.
And she feels his eyes bugging out.
She feels his breath slowly inching towards her, tickling her lips, making her skin get goose bumps.
And when she hears him rustle away and plop a few feet away, she sighs, and turns around, anger marring her features.
Why can't he take his chance?
Tomorrow, he'll have hell to pay.
----- -----
She loves being the first.
For some one as ambitious, as driven and as proud as her, second place is the first loser.
All of her life has been centered about being the best, and being the best is always being the first, because everyone else will always use you as a reference in the future, so if you truly are the best, you have to be the first.
There is no room for second chances, she knows this the minute she decides to go for it, if she blows it (which she won't) there won't be a reprise (unless she chooses for it to be).
And with that in mind, she closes the gap, holds her breath and clenches his nose.
She can taste the surprise in his gasp, and can feel his breath against her own.
He tastes sweet and sour, but not like Chinese food or anything, he just simply tastes like himself…
Like honey with a hint of cinnamon; like French toast. Like gingersnaps or like kiwi.
And she hopes that strawberry toothpaste really pays off.
Because she is his first.