down next to me, and raised a brow. “Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”
He didn’t ask anything too deep or too personal, and I was grateful for that. We spent the next few hours laughing and talking about everything from our favorite foods and music, to embarrassing moments, places we’ve been and want to go, and a rather extended round of “would you rather.” I found out that he would rather get a cardboard cut between the toes than get poked in the eye. And I informed him that I would rather drink pickle juice than sour milk.
There were no awkward silences or lulls in the conversations. I showed him that I could walk across a room with a full bottle of beer on my head without spilling it, and he showed me that he could spin a pen around his fingers so fast that it looked like moving helicopter propellers. Towards the end of it all, as we started to get tired, I asked him about the blues music that he was playing in the car earlier.
“There’s such a raw emotion behind the really good blues music. The guitar speaks to you in a way that doesn’t happen with any other genre,” he explained.
“So, let’s hear it. Play me your favorite blues song,” I challenged.
He turned it on, then looked at me with a small smile. He stepped over to the couch and sat down beside me, as the track started. It was a mellow song with no vocals. I didn’t expect it to have such an effect on me, but he was right. The guitar’s voice had a way of pulling the emotion out of me, and I was hooked no more than thirty seconds into it.
I turned my head to face him, somewhat shocked that this beautiful music moved me in such an intense, hypnotic way. He stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular and had a serious expression on his face.
Slowly, he turned his face to me, and our eyes locked. We stared at each other for several moments, taking each other in. The friendly smile I attempted quickly faded as the intensity in his eyes increased. The atmosphere was becoming much more than friendly. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved slowly from my eyes, to my hair, to my lips, and back.
I’m not sure if I leaned into him, or if he leaned into me, but we were slowly getting closer until I could feel his minty breath on my face, his nose on my nose, and my heart began to pound in my ears. Something told me this shouldn’t happen, that I didn’t want this to happen, but I couldn’t stop it. Was it the music that was causing me to lose control or just him?
Heat emanated from his lips as they gently touched mine, hesitating in place for several moments, and igniting a surge of fire through my blood. The longer the kiss lingered, the more my skin began to burn, and when my lips parted and his tongue slowly discovered mine, my body pulsed.
My hands slowly moved to his face, then the back of his neck, and I pulled him toward me. His hand took my neck, and he drew me closer. My control was gone. I was enraptured in the moment. This was happening, and although it was going against my plans, there was something so right about it.
He began to lay me down onto the couch when he stopped, abruptly pulling away and forcing himself back up to a sitting position. Following his lead, I sat back up. His eyes focused on me for a moment with a confused expression on his face that matched my thoughts… Holy shit, that was intense.
He took me behind the neck and drew me closer to him, his lips no more than an inch from mine. Then, just at the moment I thought he would continue our kiss, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead on mine, taking a deep breath in.
My heartbeat was almost deafening as it pounded throughout my body, my chest moving up and down as I tried to catch my breath and regain composure. Pulling away, he opened his eyes and looked at me with intensity, passion, and…confusion. “This isn’t why I brought you here, Liv,” he whispered. “I
He didn’t ask anything too deep or too personal, and I was grateful for that. We spent the next few hours laughing and talking about everything from our favorite foods and music, to embarrassing moments, places we’ve been and want to go, and a rather extended round of “would you rather.” I found out that he would rather get a cardboard cut between the toes than get poked in the eye. And I informed him that I would rather drink pickle juice than sour milk.
There were no awkward silences or lulls in the conversations. I showed him that I could walk across a room with a full bottle of beer on my head without spilling it, and he showed me that he could spin a pen around his fingers so fast that it looked like moving helicopter propellers. Towards the end of it all, as we started to get tired, I asked him about the blues music that he was playing in the car earlier.
“There’s such a raw emotion behind the really good blues music. The guitar speaks to you in a way that doesn’t happen with any other genre,” he explained.
“So, let’s hear it. Play me your favorite blues song,” I challenged.
He turned it on, then looked at me with a small smile. He stepped over to the couch and sat down beside me, as the track started. It was a mellow song with no vocals. I didn’t expect it to have such an effect on me, but he was right. The guitar’s voice had a way of pulling the emotion out of me, and I was hooked no more than thirty seconds into it.
I turned my head to face him, somewhat shocked that this beautiful music moved me in such an intense, hypnotic way. He stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular and had a serious expression on his face.
Slowly, he turned his face to me, and our eyes locked. We stared at each other for several moments, taking each other in. The friendly smile I attempted quickly faded as the intensity in his eyes increased. The atmosphere was becoming much more than friendly. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved slowly from my eyes, to my hair, to my lips, and back.
I’m not sure if I leaned into him, or if he leaned into me, but we were slowly getting closer until I could feel his minty breath on my face, his nose on my nose, and my heart began to pound in my ears. Something told me this shouldn’t happen, that I didn’t want this to happen, but I couldn’t stop it. Was it the music that was causing me to lose control or just him?
Heat emanated from his lips as they gently touched mine, hesitating in place for several moments, and igniting a surge of fire through my blood. The longer the kiss lingered, the more my skin began to burn, and when my lips parted and his tongue slowly discovered mine, my body pulsed.
My hands slowly moved to his face, then the back of his neck, and I pulled him toward me. His hand took my neck, and he drew me closer. My control was gone. I was enraptured in the moment. This was happening, and although it was going against my plans, there was something so right about it.
He began to lay me down onto the couch when he stopped, abruptly pulling away and forcing himself back up to a sitting position. Following his lead, I sat back up. His eyes focused on me for a moment with a confused expression on his face that matched my thoughts… Holy shit, that was intense.
He took me behind the neck and drew me closer to him, his lips no more than an inch from mine. Then, just at the moment I thought he would continue our kiss, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead on mine, taking a deep breath in.
My heartbeat was almost deafening as it pounded throughout my body, my chest moving up and down as I tried to catch my breath and regain composure. Pulling away, he opened his eyes and looked at me with intensity, passion, and…confusion. “This isn’t why I brought you here, Liv,” he whispered. “I
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