I Can Taste The Failure On Your Lips

We had woken up about three hours ago. Oliver was situated against my headboard, and I was in between his legs, leaning up against his chest. The television was on, the volume turned down. The sheets and comforter were at our feet. Neither of us were speaking, we were sitting and enjoying the extremely comfortable silence. I had no idea what time it was, I was still in a high from what had happened about three hour ago. Oliver had that effect on me, though. It was like I was on the world’s most addicting drug.

I was distracted by the tattoos on his left arm that was so delicately wrapped around my waist. My index finger was tracing over them, getting every single detail. They were beautiful, whoever made them was an amazing artist. I then felt a small ridge on his wrist, and re-ran my finger over it again and again. It was a scar, so perfectly hidden behind massive amounts of color. Where it came from, I didn’t know. I did have my suspicions though, and I in no way wanted them to be correct.

Oli stirred and I had realized that he had fallen asleep. I couldn’t help but frown when he removed his head from my shoulder and un-wrapped his arm from my waist. My smile soon returned though, as he replaced his chin and wrapped both of his arms around my middle. He sighed the most content sigh, and I could almost hear him smiling. I loved this, I honestly felt like I was on cloud nine.

A tired groan slip passed his throat, and he quickly removed and arm to run his hand through his hair. He then kissed my temple and I smiled. “What time is it?” He asked.

“I have no idea.” I answered, honestly. Who would be paying attention to the clock when you have the epitome of perfection wrapped around you? Certainly not me. Oli pulled me closer to him, if that was possible and kissed my shoulder. His lips moved from there to the crook of my neck, to my jaw line, to my cheek. I turned my head so that our lips could meet. “It doesn’t matter anyways.” There was nothing stopping us from being like this anymore.

“Actually,” He said and I felt my heart drop to my stomach. An instant frown graced my face. “We ‘ave a show tonigh’ at nine.” Oh wait, there was something keeping us apart… it was called the band. It would’ve been insane and completely selfish to ask him to forget about it. No matter how much I would’ve loved to have been number one in his life, I would always be second. The band came first, no matter what.

Jealousy settled into my bones, then. Because, at this show, there were destined to be plenty of skanks just ready to sink their perfectly straight and pearly white teeth into him. There was nothing I could do about it, Oliver and I weren’t dating yet. I wasn’t his girlfriend and he wasn’t my boyfriend. There was nothing stopping him form completely forgetting me and finding one of these skanks. She would the complete and total opposite of me; long legs, tan, champagne blonde hair, perfect teeth, big boobs. She’d be a bombshell, and Oli would most likely be drunk.

“Are you excited?” I asked, faking enthusiasm. I didn’t want to seem upset, I was supposed to be happy for him. But, no matter how much I wanted to and tried, I couldn’t.

“No.” He answered. I was surprised. I would’ve thought he would start this mile long rant about how happy he was, and how this was going to be an amazing show. “Yeh not goin’ to be there.” If my heart hadn’t melted already, it had just turned into butter. “Can’t yeh just call in sick?”

I would’ve called in sick for him. Hell, I would’ve quit my job for him. “I can’t Oliver. Anna is already taking off so that she can go, and if two friends call in together it would seem a bit sketchy.” He just nodded, wearing that signature pout. I knew he was trying to send me down a guilt trip, thinking that his face would make me do whatever he wanted. For any other girl, those lips would’ve been the golden ticket. But, they just didn’t work on me. “Pout all you want, babe. It’s not happening.”

He chuckled and wiggled out from underneath me, grabbing his phone out of his jeans pocket. I was guessing that he read the time when his eyes bugged out of his head. “Holy cock!” He yelled, causing me to laugh a bit. “It’s three o’ fuckin’ clock!” He pulled his t-shirt over his head. “What in the hell ‘ave we been doin’?” He then paused and looked at me, a sly grin plastered on his face. “Oh right, we’ve been doin’ each other.”

I rolled my eyes and slipped into a random pair of sweats that were on the floor. I picked up his sweater and held onto it while he finished getting himself together. Watching his struggled to get into his too tight skinny jeans was a riot. After he was finished I walked him out to the living room, pressed him to the front door, and kissed him. I didn’t care if Petunia was watching.

“I’ll see yeh tomorrow?” He asked, which instantly made my smile fade. Tomorrow seemed like it could’ve been a year away. He smiled and leant down to kiss me, but stopped when his lips were centimeters away from mine, teasing me. “’S not that far away, love.”

He stepped out on to the porch, and I handed him his hoodie, which he declined. “Oli, it’s freezing cold out here. You are going to need this.”

“Keep it.” He replied simply. My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “Isn’t that what the bloke ‘sposed to do? Ain’t he ‘sposed to give ‘is girl ‘is sweater?” He smiled before walking down the few steps to the yard. As he crossed it, he ran a hand through his hair, and I could’ve sworn I heard him chuckle.

“What, so I’m your girlfriend now?” I yelled to him.

He stopped and shrugged. “D’yeh want to be?”

Without waiting for my answer he climbed into his car and it sped off moments later. I smiled to my self, fighting the urge to dance on my front porch, and slipped into his hoodie. I sighed, taking in the scent before answering. “Yes, I would love that.”