“Kiss me like you did. My heart stopped beating. Such a softer sin…” (The Used)
It was the moment that I fell in love with him. That was what had me hooked onto him; dependant on him to keep me happy, reliant on him to be there for me. I fell for him hard.
I was getting off work late that night, the thickness of the bar’s air almost claustrophobic. I was going out back to grab my things and change into something more comfortable. Kieran’s was a laid back place to work, and the dress code wasn’t really all that strict, but I was going to visit Eric after work, and didn’t particularly want to show up in my black t-shirt, embroidered with the name of the bar in scarlet red with a little round circle around it, right above the right breast. I liked to go out of my way to look good for him.
I was in the staff room bathroom, which is right off the area where we eat and chill before and after work. The back staff room isn’t exactly a fun place to hang out, but it was comfortable enough for the employees. It had a couple of comfy chairs, a table to eat at, and a place to keep your belongings while at work. It looked like the rest of the pub – dark wooden siding half-way up the wall, and a dark scarlet red paint on the top, with notices and work information covering every empty space of the walls. I taking my dark chestnut hair down, shaking out of its tight ponytail and letting it fall messily to my shoulders, when John sauntered back with that side-grin of his.
John was one of the bartenders at work, and was the owner’s son (which meant he got away with a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t be able to). He was one of the first people to notice me and befriend me at work. At this point, I wasn’t overly shy around most of them anymore – I was slowly breaking out of my shell.
I smiled back at John, glancing over at him only briefly before returning my attention to the mirror in front of me. But he didn’t just sit down. He came up and leaned himself in the doorway, watching me closely. He still hadn’t wiped that silly grin off his face. I looked up at him, this time, grinning wider.
“Hey John,” I said slowly. “What’s up?” This was my attempt at small talk. Very generic.
“Going out with your boy-toy, I’m guessing.” He smiled mischievously at me.
“Yeah. I am actually.” I said, trying to finish my preening before I had to walk up to his apartment.
“That’s fun.” He said awkwardly. “How are you two love-birds doing?”
I grimaced.
“We’re great. Why do you ask?” I said, maybe a little too forcefully. In response, John held his hands up in defeat.
“Whoa, there,” He said innocently. “I’m sorry.”
I waved my hand dismissively.
“It’s okay,” I trailed off slightly, staring deeply at myself in the mirror, as if waiting for my reflection to dissipate. I tore my gaze away from myself, looking back at John, a pleading look in my eyes. “I’m just getting sick and tired of hearing this bullshit from everyone, you know? You’d think it’d get a little old. I think I know what I’m doing.”
I should have known better than to say that.
“I know, I know.” He said, still looking at me as if I had screamed at him, with that startled look. Deer in the headlights, almost. “You know we’re all just looking out for your safety. We only want to help.”
I thought for a moment.
“I know you guys are. And I do appreciate it.”
I paused again.
“But, I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.”
Again. Wish I hadn’t said that.
He nodded, and said foolishly: “Well, have a good night then, Kate.” He nodded again, and left the backroom. I finished getting ready quickly, and left work for the night.
When I knocked on the apartment door, Eric answered with that big, white-toothed smile of his, and invited me in. I smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek as I brushed past him into the apartment.
I had been at his apartment before, but we hadn’t been dating that long, so it wasn’t this late at night – and it definitely had been more casual. We usually went out when we were together, instead of going to either apartment. (one of the things we had in common – a constant need to be doing something) The relationship had progressed since the last time I had been here.
He took my things and set them down on the bench in the hallway, and led me to the small living area.
His apartment was a bachelor, so he slept in his living room. But it was quaint and comfortable, and truly looked like a bachelor pad. Video games and CD’s were piled in random places, and a couple of well used guitars in the corner. There was an old, ragged couch against the wall that opened up into a bed, and a computer desk in the corner was slightly overflowing with snack-food wrappers. He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at me (yes, down, because I’m not a very tall girl), and he shrugged.
“Sorry about the mess. I didn’t really have time to clean up.” The place really wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t any worse than I had expected. After all. He was a university student.
I shrugged back. “It’s okay.”
He sat down on the couch and invited me to sit beside him. I sat with my legs curled up close to my torso, and cuddled into the crevice between his shoulder and his chest. He was about to play a video game.
I didn’t mind watching him, but it made me sleepy. He played some game I can’t even remember the name of, because I was too concentrated on him. I watched him play, my head cradled in his lap, staring up at his face. I studied it, not wanting to forget a curve or line; memorizing its shape. When he looked down, he smiled at me, warmth spreading into my lungs.
“What are you looking at?” He asked, his voice raspy and soft (I like to call it the sex voice, if you can understand why).
“I’m looking at you. Watching you play. You know, you make some pretty strange expressions.” I smiled playfully up at him.
And then he gave me the look.
My definition of the look is basically when you can see it in his eyes. The love, lust, or just pure caring from the person. And when they are thinking about that, it comes out in their eyes – in the look. His hand, which was now not occupied by a controller, moved slowly down to stroke my face, starting at my temple, and curving my jaw line to my chin, then back up again on the other side. I closed my eyes as his long fingers ran through my thick pile of dark hair, his touch so comforting that I was almost falling asleep.
And then… he kissed me.
I don’t really remember how it happened, or how long it lasted. It’s a shadow of a memory. His lips were soft and supple, and pouty and big, and he tasted oh so sweet, and I wanted to kiss him forever. I can remember that much. He was a poison, and I wanted more.
That was the moment I knew.
That was the moment I fell in love with him.
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