Distorted

An almost startled breath escaped me as Christian pressed his lips against mine. I felt his hands crawl to hold my hips, and then slid around my waist, pulling me into him. My hands shook as they reacted on their own, tangling in his hair.

The pressure of his mouth on mine was wonderful, I hadn’t really expected that. I hadn’t expected much of anything, to be honest, because I was so focused on not letting my dreams fully run my waking life.

Too late for that.

My hands found their way to his shoulders and I reluctantly pushed him back. I stared into his face, his hazel eyes bright, and I watched them drop. Was he angry? Embarrassed? I didn’t know, but I had to say something.

“It’s too soon,” I said gently. I sank down onto the porch steps and put my faces in my hands. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“It was my fault,” he said as he sat beside me. “I know you’re going through shit so I shouldn’t have done that. If you don’t want me to come with you later, I won’t.”

I looked at him and bit my lip. “I want you to come.”

He smiled slightly and nodded. “Can I ask you something? I mean, if I’m going to hear things today anyway, I want a head start.”

“A head start,” I murmured. “Go ahead. But if I don’t like your question, I reserve the right to pass.”

Christian let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said, blinking at me, “what happened to your dad?”

“He left. I don’t know where he went.” I said this quickly, because it’s what I’ve wanted to say a thousand times when someone asked me that question. “He used to drink and he would hit my mom, and I don’t know if he has a new punching bag or not, but I bet he probably has.”

I looked at him and shrugged.

“I didn’t know that,” Christian mumbled, taking my hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s―” My throat felt tight as my vision blurred, and I mentally cursed myself for crying over the bastard I barely knew.