Chapter 86 - EVERYTHING I WANTED

His chestnut hair has fallen in front of his face and his eyes zero in on my lips. I swallow intently and try to take deep and slow breaths. He moves in closer and I close my eyes in reciprocity.

Just three breaths, all he needs is three breaths and my lips would be his to claim.

One.

''This is the part where I kiss you,'' he whispers, stroking my face with the back of his hands. I feel them run from the corner of my eye down to my neck and I bite my bottom lip, watching his fair hands. His tone is hesitant like he's asking for permission before we do the one thing we never imagined we'd do.

Two.

''Maybe you should,'' I whisper back, uncertainty swimming in my veins. Hesitation is creeping in my mind, my subconscious is screaming, what are you doing? But I pay her no mind. Every part of my body wants this and I know that once those lips touch mine, there'd be no going back from here. 

With the moon glistening down on us, much like when we were at the stream, he inches closer.

Three.

Then he closes the little gap between us, sealing our fate. 

I think I'm dreaming. Someone pinch me because this can't be real.

But, it's real because I feel him and that's an indication that this is not a dream, a fantasy or a make-believe universe. Jason Blunt is in my room, in the dead of night, kissing me on my bedroom floor.

The first thing I notice is his lips are warm, like chocolate, the type that melts instantly the minute you pop it in your mouth. I never thought this day would come. Sure, I've thought about it, and I'm not ashamed of it, but thinking about something and having it actualized are two very different things. My thoughts are nothing compared to what I'm feeling right now.

The kiss is slow, tender, and delicate, like an unplucked flower. He's taking the lead and isn't rushing it and I couldn't be more grateful. I can feel him telling me everything I want to hear in this kiss. It's like he's broadcasting his emotions on the radio of our mingling lips.

All the pent up anger since 8th grade, all the insults we've hurled at each other, all the pranks we've played and all the stunts we've managed to pull off without Grande's knowledge have all come down to this.

I encircle my arm around his neck, pulling him closer and I feel his lips curve, happy to oblige me. His right hand is placed on my cheek, while the other is stroking my waist, sending shivers to not just my spine. Books talk about fireworks, zoos, and butterflies but this is a fucking explosion and it proves what Mariah says.

He likes you. He has always liked you and I could never compete.

I don't want this to end, but it has to because I need air.

Slowly, but surely, we detatch our lips from each other, chest heaving and lungs gasping for air. Our forehead are synced and a giggle escapes from my lips, along with a prominent blush on my cheeks.

''Hi,'' he whispers lightly, his baritone deeper than I remember.

''Hello.''

We've definitely crossed the line.

.....

''So,'' I start awkwardly, sitting kriss-kross-apple-sauce with my back towards my closet. After the kiss, which by the way, was fucking amazing, we decide to put some healthy distance between us which is why he's currently sitting on my bed and feeling a little out of place. We haven't spoken about the kiss, neither of us wanting to initiate the conversation. I guess we're trying to process it, because that's certainly the case for me. 

I, Melody Lianna Jones, kissed Jason Blunt, certified bad boy, ex-nemesis, captain of the basketball team and every girl's wet dream at Adelaide.

It feels fucking unreal.

I don't even know why he's here in the first place. Most teenage girls would freak out at the fact that a guy is in their room, but for some reason, I don't feel 'freaked out.' The room is no more dark and it's not like I have anything embarrassing lying around haphazardly like a bra or lace panties.

Everything has been neatly arranged in my closet because the neat freak in me can never allow disarray.

''So,'' he continues, facing me. He rubs the back of his head and I raise a brow. ''I'll ask this once again, what in the world are you doing here? I'm shocked that you actually climbed a tree.'' He blushes a little at the memory. ''What if it wasn't my room, but my mum or sister's room? What would you have done?''

I can tell you what my mum and sister would have done: Mum would call 911 straight away and Sophie would scream bloody murder and wake up the whole neighbourhood.

''I guess it's a good thing it was your room then because that would have just been awkward?'' he offers sheepishly. ''And I'm here because I wanted to see you.''

My eyes narrow. ''You see me in school everyday.''

''But you're never alone.''

''True, but you can always say hello. Our feud is over now.'' It's over to us, but to the rest of the school, we're still Tom and Jerry. ''And risk your brother punching me square in the jaw?''

You're a gangleader, you can take a punch.

''My brother would never hit you.''

He chuckles darkly, ''Seems like he wanted to in the parking lot that day.'' But he didn't. His hands dig into my bed and he holds a familiar material in his hands. My cheeks immediately darken. ''Oh my God! Give me that!''

It's my blue cotton shorts, the one I was supposed to wear for bed, but I decided last minute that pajama bottoms and a loose fitting shirt is more preferable. I didn't even realize I hadn't stuffed it in my closet yet.

So much for not having anything embarrassing laying around.

''I don't know,'' he says, mischief gleaning in his eyes. ''I think I'll keep it as a souvenir, a gift from the Princess' room.'

I'm still having a hard time believing he's in my room.

''Give it back.''

He smirks the only way Jason Blunt knows how. ''How badly do you want it?''

There's a hint of a double meaning in that question and I'm immediately taken back to our kiss minutes ago. I wanted it, so fucking badly at that moment and it was more than I expected.

But now I feel a little bit of guilt. Why? Because I haven't officially broke up with Bob. It's so weird that I'm thinking about him now, but I can't help it. I don't know where he is; for all I know, he could be dead or missing and I'm here kissing another guy.

I clear my throat. ''Was that a double entendre?''

''Did it seem like it?''

Yes.

''No.''

''If you say no, then there was no double entendre,'' he muses. Tossing the shorts to me, I catch it and hide it behind my back, never to be seen again. God knows I already feel embarrassed.

We fall into silence and I wonder if Sophie can hear us. Her room is literally next to mine, but I doubt she'd wake up anytime soon. She sleeps like a log of wood and the only person that comes between her and sleeping for a straight twenty-four hours is me. Even if the apartment is burning down, she won't wake up.

''Okay, seriously, we've been dancing around this question for a while.'' It's been twenty minutes now. ''Why are you here? Wouldn't your parents be worried?''

''Not really,'' he shrugs. ''They're on a business trip or a resort.'' he chuckles darkly. ''They don't really care where I go to as long as I don't max out their credit cards.''

Oh.

Paris said something similar to me once when she came to the apartment around ten pm at night. I believe we were fifteen at the time and I asked her why she came all the way looking sad. Imagine being rich sad. She didn't give me a straight answer. All she said was,

As long as I get good grades and don't max out their credit cards, I'm good to them. They don't care what I do after that.

What is it with rich kids and parental neglect?

''They don't?'' I question, this time for clarity. He nods and rests his head on my headboard. ''Their jobs would forever be their children. My sister and I are just sidepieces.''

Wow.

''You should be happy,'' he continues. ''You have a perfect family that actually gives a fuck about what you do.''

I want to tell him that my family is far from being perfect. I want to tell him that my family is not complete and hasn't been complete for the past ten years. I want to tell him that he's the one with the perfect life: he rides around in a Veyron, he lives in a mansion, he doesn't have a single parent (at least he has a step-dad) and he has probably been to more exotic locations in the world than I can possibly count.

I want to tell him all this but I don't.

''Have I ever told you why I formed a gang?''