Nothing Else Matters

I noticed Veronica was still tense as she made her way back to her spot on the couch. She had her arms wrapped around her chest and was biting her lip. Lars nudged her.

“Still your turn.”

She flipped her hair defiantly, and I briefly wondered if she’d just ignore him- or even worse, not continue to play.

“Truth or Dare?’ she suddenly asked him and he shrugged.

“Dare?”

A challenging look flashed in her eyes and he paled.

“I’m going to pass until I…can think of something good” she said.

Everyone broke into an awkward sort of laughter, maybe to break the tension, maybe because they knew she was serious. The game continued on until we started getting bored. As soon as I felt my feet beginning to fall asleep for what seemed like the millionth time, I heaved myself up as best as I could.

“I’m done” I said.

I was looking forward to just relaxing with my laptop and Pandora. The pins-and-needles feeling was intense and my knees buckled. I clutched the wall and dragged myself upright, stumbling towards the back.

“Need help?” Veronica called out, half laughing.

I shook my head. “I got it.”

Finally, I reached my little bedroom area, and I flopped onto the bed with a sigh. I reached for my laptop, and let Pandora work its magic. There was no disappointment, and I settled in comfortably, logging onto Facebook to check out what had been going on with the rest of the world.

Minutes later, I pushed the laptop aside and curled up inside my blanket.

There was nothing going on there, and nothing going on here.

I wasn’t tired so I couldn’t escape into sleep, but I didn’t want to go back to the front with everyone else. I checked Twitter, but that was dead as well. Shooting a hopeful glance at my phone, my hope fizzled out when I saw no messages, no missed calls.

Netflix it was, I decided. Once on my account, I began flipping through the multiple selection.

Horror…drama…romance…action…maybe a comedy. I couldn’t decide between “Grown-Ups” or “The Hangover 2”.

“Room for one more?” a voice cut in and my stomach flipped.

James was leaning into my bunk.

My mouth went dry as I tried to formulate a response.

“I mean…it’s ok to say no...” he said, pulling back.

I cleared my throat quickly. “No, no. Stay. I was just…I guess just caught off guard.”

He laughed and I scooched over so that he could slide onto the bed. We wound up in an awkward sort of position. With the bed so small, he took up most of the space, so I was squeezed up against him, my legs pinned underneath his. I tried leaning across him to reach for the laptop again but failed miserably.

He laughed and tried adjusting himself but nothing seemed to be working. When I braced myself against the wall, trying to make myself as small as possible, he scooched off to the edge of the bed and I did the same.

At the same time, our eyes locked on each other and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

He raised an eyebrow, a wide smile on his face and I tried to catch my breath but the situation seemed too unexplainably funny. He started laughing too and soon we were both doubled over and gasping for air. When the laughter died down I glanced at him.

He seemed so carefree.

Not like the intimidating Metal God the world saw him as, but as a normal person just having fun.

He caught me looking and in a blink, the space between us was closed as he crashed gently but forcefully into me, his lips connecting with mine.

I couldn’t help but gasp in surprise, responding quickly when his hands circled my waist, drawing me in close to him. The small space was more of a benefit now, and I silently thanked whoever designed the interior of the bus.

One hand traveled upward, his fingers lightly skimming the skin at the nape of my neck before wrapping firmly into my hair. A chill went through me and goosebumps erupted onto my flesh. I could do nothing more than grasp at his arms, nothing more than to stroke his biceps down to his wrists, holding him tight against me. He broke the kiss and I pouted but then I felt his lips on my neck and I gave a little sigh of content. He found my weak spot and focused on it, and my knees liquefied. I moaned weakly, breathing heavily, trying to keep a straight focus.

He hitched up one of my legs, drawing it up around his waist. At the feel of his calloused fingers on the bare skin of my thigh I shivered, feeling him smirk against my collarbone. His fingers traced patterns up and down the length of my thigh, dancing playfully underneath the hem of my shorts, towards my inner thigh, reaching higher and higher, before retreating backwards and darting up inside my shirt, creeping up, towards my chest. His hands fumbled in finding the hooks on my bra, and he stumbled with the straps in his eagerness to touch. His teeth grazed my earlobe and I pulled away, tilting his head downward, bringing his lips to mine once more.

This time though, I was the one controlling the kiss.

I didn’t want hot and heavy.

I wanted sweet.

Gentle.

I wanted him to know what that felt like.

A kiss he would remember for the feeling that was in it, and not just the lust.

God knows how much I wanted to rip his clothes off, and I knew that, with the heavy weight against my thigh indicating agreement, he wanted it too, but somewhere in the heat of the moment I’d made an unconscious vow to be the girl that wasn’t just a quick fuck. If anything came out of this, now that things had been cleared up, then I wasn’t going to be just another outlet for his sexual needs and frustrations.

He pushed against me, his hips pinning me down, his tongue probing deeper, forcefully demanding more, wanting this to move faster into a more fiery territory and reflexively, I tilted my hips upward to meet his, feeling his bulge through the heavy (and damp) denim of his jeans play dangerously close to my entrance. This time he was the one moaning, one hand sliding my shirt up while the other worked to slide my shorts down. Reason took over and I bit his lower lip and he let up, giving me the upperhand.

Gently, I stroked my hands through his hair, down to his temple, his cheek, his jaw. He responded by taking my hands, intertwining his fingers into my own, pinning my hands up against my head so that I was unable to move.

Gasping, we pulled away at the same time, our eyes never moving from one another.

The atmosphere had changed, there was a tangible spark in the air.

I could see desire in his eyes, but there was something more, the promise of a deeper connection that surpassed decisions made by a hardening penis.

If my eyes were in sync with the way my heart was pounding and the butterflies going wild in the pit of my stomach, he should have been seeing the same thing in my eyes as well.

A wall had been broken down, and the sunshine had broken through.