Jesus, her hands on his waistband. Brian’s eyes widened and he glanced at the ceiling, an exasperated gesture. He was way too reactive. He wasn’t sure if Valerie knew what that was like, and he found himself wishing his t-shirt was shorter, that she might accidentally touch his back. The devil was in the details with her; a thumb that once stroked his palm, evoking an embarrassing telekinetic reaction, and now an index finger gently tugging, the jeans lifting off his skinny hips for a second. He thought about the first time he took off his shirt in front of her. They were on the couch and she traced a tattoo and…
Dude, cut it out, you’re going to humiliate yourself.
Because she was really close and her hair was soft on his jaw, but the thing was, you didn’t pull away from what felt amazing, not when you were operating more with your body than your brain. You might hear tires squealing in your head, a feverish pumping of the car brakes, but still you’d find yourself doing something stupid, like sticking your hand in her back pocket.
Which was what Brian did next. He had taken that folded square of paper from his own pocket and jammed into hers, but he left his fingers there. That way, if she kneed him in the balls, she’d still find it later.
What was he doing, again? What was the goal here, to grope her on the dance floor? To lead her away and talk? No, forget that, talking got him mixed up. He always said the wrong thing. Or the right thing, but badly. He was a nice guy with the verbal ticks of an asshole. Brian did not want to be an asshole tonight. He needed to put it all on the table, to let her know how he felt and what he thought and, more importantly, he needed to avert disaster.
How, how, how? He was shit at this. How did he get her in the first place?
Right. It was Valerie that made the move; she knocked on the door, grabbed his t-shirt and kissed him. Maybe he should be more like that. More like how he used to behave back stage when he saw a lone girl lingering. Back when he didn’t think so much. He just… just…
Opened his mouth and breathed into her ear. Kissed it. Not friendly, not anything that might get mistaken for plain old affectionate. No, he was coming on to her. He raised his voice over the music. “This was what I meant.”
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2014-03-10 05:40 pm (UTC)Dude, cut it out, you’re going to humiliate yourself.
Because she was really close and her hair was soft on his jaw, but the thing was, you didn’t pull away from what felt amazing, not when you were operating more with your body than your brain. You might hear tires squealing in your head, a feverish pumping of the car brakes, but still you’d find yourself doing something stupid, like sticking your hand in her back pocket.
Which was what Brian did next. He had taken that folded square of paper from his own pocket and jammed into hers, but he left his fingers there. That way, if she kneed him in the balls, she’d still find it later.
What was he doing, again? What was the goal here, to grope her on the dance floor? To lead her away and talk? No, forget that, talking got him mixed up. He always said the wrong thing. Or the right thing, but badly. He was a nice guy with the verbal ticks of an asshole. Brian did not want to be an asshole tonight. He needed to put it all on the table, to let her know how he felt and what he thought and, more importantly, he needed to avert disaster.
How, how, how? He was shit at this. How did he get her in the first place?
Right. It was Valerie that made the move; she knocked on the door, grabbed his t-shirt and kissed him. Maybe he should be more like that. More like how he used to behave back stage when he saw a lone girl lingering. Back when he didn’t think so much. He just… just…
Opened his mouth and breathed into her ear. Kissed it. Not friendly, not anything that might get mistaken for plain old affectionate. No, he was coming on to her. He raised his voice over the music. “This was what I meant.”