Isobel's POV
The few moments spent with John Gilbert have been nothing short of awkward, the cumbersome nature of the exchanges between guaranteeing the lingering of an uneasy air amongst the evening chill. The impertinence behind my offer was, without a doubt in my mind, unintentional, though the slivers of burning sensations crawling relentlessly through my skin reminded me how an innocent, and genuine statement could so easily be perceived as audacious.
With this in mind, John so nonchalantly accepting my invitation was astonishing, to say the least, and I was surprised to look up to find him with a hand out in a silent indication to join him. Who in the world says yes to .. Well, that?
Slipping a delicate hand into his, slight pressure hauling me up from my position, I was quick to take my hand from his eager not to increase the evident tension between us any further.
"Quit playing tough guy."
A pointed glance at John, and I led the way to my house. There is a God, and he shows mercy. Words couldn't describe my relief over the short walk, the brief five minutes void of any conversation as he trailed closely beside me. Every now and again, I'd throw him a sporadic glance, rose-tinted brims occasionally twitching into a shadow of a smile as I take note of the dazed expression his features would sometimes display. Taking myself up the wooden porch with quick, lithe steps, the comforting sound of key unlocking door resonated through the soundless evening as, with the switch of a light, my humble abode was presented to him.
"Well... Come in."
John's POV
The house I stood before was a lot like mine just a different paint job, I remembered this house well. It was an old school friends before he had moved with his family to South Carolina. As I stepped over the threshold after her I stumbled slightly, quickly gaining my step once again. Fuck, did she notice?
I couldn't be sure and didn't want to ask or assume so I cleared my throat and waited in the doorway, This wasn't my house so I couldn't roam freely like I had before new owners moved in. Do I go and grab a seat or head straight to the bedroom?
Shuffling in the spot, my eyes flickered to Isobel's face.
"So, may I?"
Isobel's POV
Mr. Badass was polite? Huh. With a nod of my head, I shut the door behind us, wordlessly motioning towards the adjacent room, throwing a pointed glance at the plush couch prior to finally responding.
"Make yourself at home. Light switch is to your right, I'll go grab he codeine and ice."
Shifting a wary gaze towards her, sable hues roamed his features as blunted ivories gnawed at my bottom lip in silent assessment.
"Lots of ice."
Manoeuvring around John to wander towards the kitchen, I let nimble fingers carelessly gather loose ebony atop my head, a simple twist placing it in a comfortable bun. Placing my weight on the tips of my toes, I raised my voice for the benefit of John, who for all I knew might have been passed out, an ambling gaze scouring the open cabinet for a first aid kit.
"Did you want a drink.. or something?"
Taking the green, plastic kit into my hands, I direct an awaiting glance towards the kitchen door, patiently listening for his reply.
John's POV
My fingers slid against the wall in attempt to locate the light switch Isobel had spoke of, my lips unfurl to display a broad resilient smirk upon success; the lights flicker on dim at first before brightening and spreading through the room granting vision to the homely decor and comfortable furniture adorning the space. I slipped out of my jacket and left it strewn across the back of the couch as I rake my fingers through my hair, breathing out a sigh as I take a seat. My hand covers my mouth and I let a gust of breath land on my palm to inspect how terrible it was. Oh my god, that is filth.
A light gag rose in my throat and I fished into my pocket for a pack of gum, inhaling a group of them to try and stunt the stench; chewing frantically as Isobel's voice carried from the kitchen asking if I wanted a drink.
"Yeah, sure... whatever you have on tap is fine."
From the perch on the couch I found myself appraising the surroundings, admiring the use of the space previously occupied by an old friend's parents clutter. Hoarders, they sure new how to organize. A mild snort spilled from my throat in a nasal vibration before stretching across the room to inspect the mantle which was adorned with an assortment of picture frames, a young Isobel's image stared back at me. Dark tresses at shoulder length and an unflattering fringe didn't help mask the buck teeth that protruded from her mouth. I stifled a laugh before she could return with the items she had left to grab.
"Nice... face."
Isobel's POV
With the first aid kit in one hand and a glass of water in the other as per his request, vigilant steps take me towards the room where was sat, careful not to spill a single drop from the slightly too full glass.
"Nice… face."
A sculpted brow raising skyward as confusion drives me to quicken my steps marginally, I hand the glass to John prior to allowing my eyes to wander in query. "What?" Perching on the spot beside him as I rested the kit on my lap, crimson tints spread across the apple of my cheeks, a mortified gaze zeroing in on the picture he had an amused glance set on. Embarrassment fuelling my actions, I twist swiftly to face him, a less than forceful punch landing on his upper arm.
"Shut up."
The arm I'd assaulted being the one to hold his glass of water, a muted gasp slipped past coral brims as half of the contents spilled onto his lap, the seemingly feeble strike I'd granted him appearing to have had more power behind him than I'd initially thought.
"I.."
Coughing to conceal a laugh that threatened to escape, I fought to keep my lips flattened, brows attempting to knit in feigned concern as I continued to voice my apology.
".. I am so sorry about that."
Even through the faultlessly contrite expression I displayed, the amusement drawn from the situation was evident in every syllable I spoke.
John's POV
The rather feisty jab to my shoulder was surprisingly strong and I lost use of my body out of shock and the overflow of water that splashed against my crotch, soaking the beige shade of khaki's I wore with black high-tops. Just another way to display my rebellious edge. I shook my head and let a breath fall to land on Isobel's exposed shoulder. Thank fuck for the gum.
I paused and stared upon her ghostly visage, the sweltering warmth that filled her spheres were darkened with a line of eyeliner and a mild brush of mascara. Her image was ethereal and only now had I noticed, most likely due to the lighting in the room. If I was gonna make a move, it would be now. I wasn't a novice and the art of seduction had been quite tiring so I resisted and decided to just move hings along. She's down for it. Why else did she invite me back?
I guided my hand to her cheek, mistakenly though, she stepped toward the couch and I was left grasping at air. What the fuck. Pull yourself together and get the job done.
Isobel's POV
"Umm.."
Clearing my throat as if it'd help clear the uncomfortable edge that played on the atmosphere, I couldn't help but wonder what John was still doing standing up, as I looked to him from my seated position on the couch. One tug on his hand and I direct my gaze away from him, and at the array of gauzes, bandages, and surgical tape before me, my words slipping forth in a distracted murmur as I looked for the cotton swabs.
"Sit down.."
A satisfied sigh elicits a delicate smile to take form on my lips, successful in my search for everything needed to right the scratches and slivers of blood on your face. With an abrupt, wry laugh escaping me, a chagrined glance shifts from you to your wet lap before I spoke once more.
"..I should get you a towel for that."
I could give no more of a response than to relentlessly stare at John in unequivocal disbelief, the temerity of each question and statement catching me entirely off guard. ..What?
It took several blinks and a shake of my head to clear clouded thoughts, and with a laugh presenting itself in a nerve-ridden manner rather than in that of the flippant gesture I'd intended it to be, I tried to gauge his intentions prior to speaking. Was he serious? Throughout the entire evening, he'd been nothing but nearly polite, if the drunken burping and mindless conversation topics were ignored, my reaction would be understandable, the question I stated in response an impeccable reflection of the only conclusion I could draw.
"Coffee. That's what you need. I think you're still drunk."
John's POV
My gaze drops to the sodden patch on my pants, turning my face toward Isobel once I've joined her on the couch. A short laugh tumbles forth as my arms stretch along the back row, glancing to the medical supplies in her lap.
"Given aid to many strangers before? It'll dry unless your aim was to get me out of them?"
I asked, quirking a brow as slowly as possible not to cause more discomfort to my face. I smirked with a smug grin adorning my features.
"You could have just asked to see what I am packing, Isobel."
As hard as tried, I was coming up short. I knew what I wanted and I knew what I should do but the differences did not correlate and I knew I must have been giving off the weirdest vibe. Was I still drunk? I couldn't tell. I didn't feel drunk; my thoughts didn't eel like the thoughts of an inebriated adolescent but my body did. For so long I had kept myself hidden under the church attire and the all american perception of what a teenage boy should be. I barely knew myself and I couldn't separate the genuine from the fraudulent. For the love of god, make a move John. Otherwise shut the fuck up.
I stretched back in my seat prior to adjusting to hunch forward. The back and forth between sides of my personality where reminiscent of a coin flip. I felt sorry for Isobel, but not enough to leave her in peace. She's smoking hot
Isobel's POV
The prolonged lack of response from him brought sculpted brows together in a delicate scowl as neither a confirmation or denial was voiced in concern to my statement. Even muted, the clearing of my throat cut through the heavy silence that was adamant on lingering in all its awkward glory like the sharpest of knives, and instead of making a move towards the kitchen once more, I poured generous lashings of medicinal alcohol onto a soft, cotton pad, a sheepish smile sculpting wry lips as I spoke in dulcet half whispers.
"I'm sorry, this'll probably sting."
With apprehension, I shifted slightly to bring my form closer to Johns, swallowing thickly as winces faintly creased ethereal features before I'd even brought the pad to his wounds. A pained hiss from his behalf, and swift, murmured apologies were spilling from rose-tinted petals, svelte digits vigilant and gentle in their ministrations, ivories gritting slightly to avoid the mild nausea that churned the pit of my stomach at the sight of John's blood spreading slowly onto previously pristine cotton.
John's POV
Where should I have looked? With Isobel's close proximity my eyes were immediately drawn to the curvatures she spoke apologies from as a wince fell from mine. The cotton swab applied to my abrasions elicited a less than tough response. With an icy temperature I instinctively reached forth and squeezed her forearm as it rested against her knee while the other administered aid to my wounds. Do it. Do it now. Just kiss her you pussy.
How elegant of my inner voice to yell commands like I was a performing monkey. I tried to look away but unless I wanted to get caught staring at her cleavage, I had to keep them trained on her doe eyes. I'm not saying I didn't steal a glimpse of her bountiful bosom; they weren't huge, but ample and could probably fit in my palms comfortably.
Isobel's POV
After the evening of unrelenting bad-boy, tough-guy commentary, the mild vulnerability displayed in John taking my forearm elicited an almost unnoticeable smile to curl in satisfaction. He winces! He's human.
The fact that he was holding my gaze was, surprisingly, okay. Or was it? As I idly dabbed at shallow gashes and violent scratches, careful not to apply pressure on delicate, bruising flesh, I tried to figure out if I should be thrown by his stare. He's been looking right at me for a good minute. That's creepy, right?
Snapped out of mindless internal reasoning as I caught myself staring right back into sapphire hues glazed over by spirits and beer, I swiftly took a skin toned bandage from the green box beside me, quickly ridding of the wrapping prior to measured lay placing it on the most prominent wound on his forehead.
"You're, umm.."
A glance down momentarily distracts me as I see his hand resting on my arm once more, a shake or my head and a forced smile dragging me back to what I was previously saying.
"Uhh, You're good. Done."
Taking my hand from the position it was in, hovering above the treated wound, nimble fingers accidentally brush the side of his face in an unintentional caress, and instantly I internally bitch slap myself for the undeniably awkward action. Stop inappropriately touching strangers, Isobel.
John's POV
Kiss her, you fool. I was deafened with the frantic screams that flooded my mind. I couldn't differentiate between a good idea and one that would undoubtedly garner me a slap across the face. Isobel's grazing fingertips glided over my tender wounds and abrasions she had so kindly aided with medical grade disinfectants. This girl barely knew me, she had only learned my name not 10 hours earlier. She hadn't castrated me when I drunkenly groped her or belched in her face. She must like damaged guys.
I thought and followed up with a shake of my head to clear the doubts that encroached. I couldn't second guess myself any longer. Yes, I should make a move because that is what is expected of me but more than that, I wanted to. I wanted to connect with her on a deeper level. I could be the real me with her, not the ego-maniacal guy she would hear rumors about. Bite the bullet, jackass.
The silent command prompted my next movement and there was no turning back. My lips crushed against Isobel's hard at first before I felt her brims soften and return the heated exchange.
Isobel's POV
Surprise was an understatement, a word not worthy of explaining the current emotion I displayed. I'd been nothing short of inexplicably awkward, and even bitchy, to this guy in front of me, who I'd only just met. This guy in front of me, whose lips were now pressed against mine. I couldn't comprehend my response, my lips moving willingly against his despite not even knowing him for a day.
It was strange, the comfort I derived from spending time with him, and yet within only hours, the wall I have built so high for everyone else seems like it never even existed around him. The incessant ringing in the back of my mind reminding me of my body's reliance on oxygen, I reluctantly pulled away, coral brims pressed together as I looked anywhere but at John, as if that would hide the slight daze I found myself in. How did that even happen?
John's POV
Oh shit, what the hell did I do that for? Isobel's detachment was a surprise and once she pulled away my brows dipped ow to form a furrowed line; my hues were glazed and I pressed my lips together to mute to groan that I could feel about to exit. Of course she pulled away, she just got face raped by a creep in her living room.
Silence spread between us and as I leaned forward unaware of my bodies limitations, I face planted into the couch once she launched to a stand. Good going, John.
Isobel's POV
Upon standing, a muted thud behind me causes me to spin instinctively, previously knitted brows raising inquisitively. Is he.. He is.
Wry laughter escaped me in the form of a short, halted breath, and with a shake of my head, I took the couch's biggest cushion, slipping it under his head prior to throwing a thick blanket over his unconscious form. Wary steps took me away from him, a subtle flinch rippling through me whenever the creak of a wooden floorboard triggered a minute shift in his sleeping state.
Lights off, and doors shut, a lazy traipse took myself up to my own room, my racing mind craving slumber as I fell heavily against the welcoming comfort of plush pillows, a soft blanket cradling me as I eagerly wrapped it around my dozing form.