Chapter Eight

“Aiden?” Evan murmurs lifting his head of from my shoulder. His eyes are sleepy, and his hair ruffled and messy. He was half asleep after watching a movie. We were lazily slumped in the corner of my couch, the house empty and quite. 

“Hmm?” I murmur running my hand through his hair absent mindedly. He smells so familiar, a scent of cologne and leather and deeper down something I can only describe as Evan. He looks at me, the oceanic eyes burning with a deep blue fire. 

“Show me your bruises?” His voice is full of doubt and questioning as if what he’s said is completely wrong. Beneath that, there’s a layer of worry, of anger, of concern. I sigh standing up stretching my arms above my head before grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. Mentally reassuring myself that it can’t be that bad. I mean, yes I’ve been avoiding mirrors since the ‘accident’ but people have avoided staring, and the bruises don’t hurt that bad, so they can’t be horrible. Right? Evan’s gasp proves me wrong. I look down at the flesh of my stomach to find it sickly colored. Blotches of yellow, green, purple and blue cover my ribcage, and left side.

“God. I am so sorry. C’mere.” He breathes, I take a step closer to him and he hooks his fingers through my belt loops tugging me in. I’m standing in between his knees, and he runs his hand up my side. Fingers gently tasting the surface of my bruises, sending tingles down my spine. I sigh softly and tug my shirt back on over my head. 

“Uglier than I thought.” I shrug, a blush rising to my cheeks. As I smooth my shirt down over my sides. He shakes his head and grabs my hand, clutching to it as if it’s a lifeline.

“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful. I’m so, so sorry this happened to you, but your scars, your battle wounds are what make you who you are.” Evan murmurs pulling me closer. Our foreheads rest together, breathing together. Our breath mingling together, like some kind of music. Without flaw. He nuzzles his head against mine softly, and trails one hand up and down my arm, creating a pattern without sensible knowledge. Nothing hurts and everything is right in our little world we’ve somehow created. He tugs on my belt loops, and I end up sitting on his lap, facing him. 

“This makes no sense to me. I’ve really got no idea of what exactly is running through my head. I just know that for the longest time, I thought I was straight, and I thought I was going to find a girl, and settle down and have beautiful babies. And now, I don’t know. I’m unsure of absolutely everything around me, but you. It’s like this past month, hell, these past weeks, everything has changed. You went from being that boy, the one with the sketch pad and the gorgeous eyes to Aiden. Then you went from Aiden to a someone I could consider my best friend, and then someone I was worried about losing. And I’ve never been so sure, I am in love with you. I want to spend my life with you, you complete me. And this sounds absolutely crazy. But I don’t even care. I don’t care that half the world is homophobic, including my parents, I don’t care that we’ve only been friends for a little over a month. I don’t care that you probably think I’m crazy, because I will spend every day, every single damn day trying to prove to you that I love you. You are worth it. You are worth it all.” And Evan is looking up at me with his big conflicted oceanic eyes, and in that moment, I swear to God my heart stopped beating. It’s like there’s rushing sensation in my head, almost as if all of the air has been sucked out of my lungs. It’s stupid, I can’t breathe. I was never going to be someone who conformed to the idea of high school romance. I’m gay. I didn’t think I had the choice. And here he is, my personal Prince Charming. Someone who I have grown to know, and maybe love in the past month? Someone who saved my life, literally. Who taught me that the boring existence that I was holding, was not life at all. I can see the doubt, the feeling of unsureness clouding his eyes. So I do the only thing I can think of, I kiss him.

His lips are soft against mine, and the kiss is my first, it’s very chaste. Just a soft touch of skin to skin, representing so much more. Holding so much more promise behind the simple gesture. His hands tighten around my waist, and I move one hand up to entangle in his hair. The other hand resting above his heart. And at this moment, I feel a sense of security, a sense of homeliness that I have never felt before. It’s a sense of wanting, a sense of being wanted. It’s need. It is love.

Author's Note

So? Good first kiss scene?
Tell me what you think.

Reviews

[Jonathan Biswell]

i am loving you story this is true love

[eatmills]

What, no dancing of tongues, no mashed faces? lol just kidding. I really enjoyed Evan's monologue that led up to the kiss, I really felt a sense of throwing caution into the wind.