You know how some people that have these little funny things that they do under pressure? It makes them look adorable, and you just want to pinch their cheeks for being so cute. Justin, of course, has the adorable habit of licking his lips when he’s nervous, not only increasing my million and one thoughts about him, but making a few X-rated.
But then you get the other people who, when tense, make themselves look like complete idiots by tapping their foot or humming a tune off key, and you just want to slap them. Or, at the very least, tell them how stupid they look whilst they do it.
Guess which category I fall into.
I have this really annoying inclination to twist my hair around my fingers. Don’t ask me what the appeal of frizzing my hair by raveling and unraveling it is, because I honestly couldn’t tell you. It’s just one of those habits that I can’t seem to kick, unless I shaved off all my hair, and that would just be ugly.
Okay, so I’m mentally rambling. Even in my thoughts, I’m avoiding the issue that lies on the opposite side of the heavy oak door stood before me.
Justin.
I wonder how many times I’ve stood motionless outside this door, rapidly twisting my hair around my fingers at lightening speed, chewing my bottom lip, and trying to work up the courage to just open the goddamn door.
Would it be wrong of me to turn around, jump into my car and speed off into the distance? Yes, it would mean I was taking direction from that of a twelve-year-old, but at least I wouldn’t have to go through the awkward agony of confrontation.
Should I go in? Should I face the problem I’ve had for the past six months? Should I listen to the coward in me who is answering yes?
Maybe.
I spin around and start the three-step journey to the path leading to my car. On the second step, I stop, turn around, and mentally scold myself for giving up so easily. Two minutes later, shaking my head, I start to descend again, ready to retreat to the safe haven of my car, not even caring about my less than brave attitude.
“Cat?”
Shit.
I slowly turn on my heel, forcing my lips into a smile. “Hey Justin,” I greet him happily, in a manner similar to that of Martha Stewart on pot.
“Good day at work?”
What? When did his torn up demeanor that he had on the phone fade into undiluted nonchalance? “Um…yeah, thanks. It was okay.”
“Good, good.”
He stares at me for a moment, as though he’s expecting me to say something. I would if I could, but the expression, ‘Cat got your tongue’ doesn’t even come close to the inadequacy I have to form a sentence under his calm gaze.
A slow grin creeps onto his face. “So, how long were you planning on staying out here?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Stop blushing. Stop blushing.
“I just got here,” I say, my brilliant attempt at sounding confident failing miserably.
“Cat, I saw your car arrive about ten minutes ago.”
Shit.
I choose not to respond, and can chalk this up to being my most embarrassing moment in life, bar the time I tripped up in front of my entire school at our comedy night and got the biggest laugh of the whole night.
“So…are you going to come in?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble quietly, wrapping a section of hair around my index finger.
“Okay, then we can just talk out here,” he says, closing the door slightly and brushing the steps of dirt before sitting on them.
I roll my eyes. “Justin, I may be an idiot, but I do understand the concept of reverse psychology.”
He grins. “Are you going to come in, then?”
“Whatever,” I mutter, following inside.
I hear the soft click of the door as it closes behind me, and before I know it, Justin and I are standing, face to face, in the living room.
In silence.
“We’re not very good at talking, are we?” he says jokingly, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I guess not.”
How can he be so cool, and calm, and reserved? As though this is just a run of the mill occurrence? I’m giving myself gray hairs just standing opposite him, but he still looks like the epitome of tranquillity and relaxation.
I look like some nervous kid who has to go to the dentist.
He clears his throat. “I guess I should go first then…”
“Sure.”
“I–I know I surprised you when I kissed you.”
“No shit.” Nice Cat, very ladylike.
He licks his lips and shrugs, giving me the slightest comfort in the fact that he feels the nerves as much as I do. “I’m going to be honest with you, otherwise we won’t get anywhere.” He takes a shaky breath as I nod in agreement. He can be honest, I’ll just listen. “I don’t regret it,” he says after a silence.
I laugh uneasily, trying to inject an element of humor into the suddenly stifling atmosphere. “Well, thanks.”
His eyes, conveying nothing but stern sombreness, drained of the laughter it held a moment ago, stare at me intently. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Regret what happened?”
My eyes drop to the floor. “I don’t know,” I whisper honestly, my voice becoming thick with the rapidly approaching tears. I quickly rub my eyes as they focus on my shoes, angry at myself to be teary eyed this early in our conversation.
Taking a breath, I try to gather myself enough to talk. “Why did you do it?” I timidly ask, staring intently as I dig one toe into the plush carpet of the living room.
He takes a step towards me, closing the large gap between us. “Because I wanted to,” he says quietly, putting a hand on my cheek and tilting my head up to face him.
Feeling my body quiver at his touch, I try to grasp at any composure I once held as the warmth from his hand spreads across my face.
“It’s all I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side as he stares at me.
My eyes flutter close as he advances towards me and inches his hands onto my hips, confining me to his grip, until there is no space between us at all.
“And I know…” His lips drop a light kiss on my cheek. “That I won’t regret it this time either…”
---------------------------------------------------
Can you imagine us,
Making love...
The way you would feel the first time that we touched
Obeying every fiber in my body that was screaming me to do so, my lips softly graze Cat’s, the same electricity spreading through my body as it had yesterday by the piano.
Can you think of it…
The way I dream of it,
I want you to see like I’m seeing you…
It's a picture of perfection
The vision of you and I
I pull back slightly, my lips burning from the desire of even a slight touch, as a soft sigh escapes her lips. Smiling slightly at her flushed appearance and closed eyes, my lips return to hers, a hint of the desperate urgency in the pit of my stomach showing as I press slightly harder against her.
Your lips upon my lips
(can you just picture this)
Your fingertips on my fingertips
Your skin upon my skin
Would be the sweetest sin
That would be the sweetest sin, yeah
The hand resting on her cheek slowly moves up to her hair, releasing it from the grasp of her clip and tossing it to the side, as her hair falls in waves past her shoulders.
All night I lie awake
’Cause it's too much to take
Dreaming about the love that we could make
Just like she did in my dreams, her hands tentatively slide up into my hair, resting in the small nest of curls forming on my head. She leans her head to the side and shyly accepts my advances to deepen the kiss, our bodies closer than they ever have been.
All day I think of schemes
To get you next to me
I want you so bad that I can barley breathe
It's a sign of my obsession
That I can't stop thinking 'bout
My fingers inch ever so slowly up her shirt, touching the expanse of skin along the small of her back.
Immediately, she panics, quickly trying to pull my hand out of her shirt.
“Justin,” she begins, breaking away from me for the first time in what seems like hours, but is in fact minutes. “I don’t think you should be…” she trails off as I trace a line of butterfly kisses along her neck.
“What?” I murmur against her soft skin, burying my face into her neck. “Don’t be shy of your body, sweetheart.”
“Oh God,” she moans slightly, placing her hand on the back of my head, pushing my lips closer against her neck. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispers.
“I know,” I reply, continuing my soft kisses down her collarbone.
“This isn’t going to change anything. I’ve still got Sean and I can’t just jump out of a relationship to be with you–”
“I know,” I repeat, moving my kisses back up to her jaw, trying to ignore the fact I had seen Sean kiss her here before. “But I don’t want to think about the future, I don’t think about Sean, or what we’re going to do, I just wanna…” I pant slightly, gazing at her as though she was mine to stare at.
Your lips upon my lips
(can you just picture this)
Your fingertips on my fingertips
Your skin upon my skin
Would be the sweetest sin, yeah
Your lips upon my lips
(Can you envision it)
Temptation I could never resist
Your skin upon my skin
Would be the sweetest sin, yeah
Our lips fuse together once again in a frenzy of passion, her hands desperately clutching at my T-shirt, pulling me towards her, and I willingly obliging.
It would feel so good
To be so bad
You don't know how bad
I want that
I would do anything
To feel…
I know this probably won’t amount to anything. Cat just dutifully reminded me that she is in a relationship. Just because I’ve elicited a few moans from her, does not mean I will be the instigator of a break up for them.
For all I know, this could be the last time I ever even touch Cat.
Your lips upon my lips
(can you just picture this)
Your fingertips on my fingertips.
Your skin upon my skin
Would be the sweetest sin, yeah
Your lips upon my lips
(can you envision it)
Your fingertips on my fingertips
Your skin upon my skin
Would be the sweetest sin, yeah
Slowly, the warmth of her plump body leaves me as she pulls away, exuding shame, trying to hide the lust still in her eyes.
“I can’t do this…as much as I want to, I just can’t…” she sobs, pulling her shirt down and stepping away from me, before turning and fleeing from the room.
The front door slams and the screech of tires is heard as she speeds away.
“I love you,” I whisper.
But she can’t hear me.
Lyrics: Jessica Simpson-Sweetest Sin
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