07-08-2009, 03:19 PM
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She watched him with a quiet desperation in her eyes, waiting for the moment when he would realize that they were touching. She waited for the inevitable moment when he would shake himself and pull away. She felt her heart pounding distantly in her chest, but it seemed like her mind and body were disconnected. Part of that frustrated her, because she wanted to experience every detail of these precious few minutes; she didn't know if a time like this would ever come again. But this whole situation seemed so unreal anyway.
She thought of that as she reached out and did something she had been unconsciously dying to do. She smoothed her hand along his cheek and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand and her eyes. She blinked and stared at the ground, painfully aware of how close they stood. She could feel his outline like a line of heat against her, body, a warmth she knew she shouldn't notice.
Geneva turned her face away to look at the darkening line of the horizon. The sky was getting darker, and the light of the fireflies glowed like pale fire. She couldn't remember the last time her heart had felt so full, and she couldn't remember the last time she had been cautious, so terrified to make the wrong move.
This situation had progressed too far for her to simply turn away or run. Too much had been said - too much, and not enough. The truth had sprung free from her heart, where she would have willed it to hide, and eventually die. When she raised her lime colored eyes to look at him again, she found the courage to see this through, and to accept whatever outcome this situation would yield.
Geneva reached to take his hands into her own and leaned in close to him. "I want you," she said. And it was simple as that. For some unknown reason, he had continually drawn her to him. And he had loomed in her mind, his mystery continually puzzling her, his sarcasm and dry wit urging her on, his anger and self-deprecation never enough to drive her away. She wanted to be with him, but she knew that he probably wouldn't accept that. She breathed in, "Just think about it, okay?"
She thought of that as she reached out and did something she had been unconsciously dying to do. She smoothed her hand along his cheek and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand and her eyes. She blinked and stared at the ground, painfully aware of how close they stood. She could feel his outline like a line of heat against her, body, a warmth she knew she shouldn't notice.
Geneva turned her face away to look at the darkening line of the horizon. The sky was getting darker, and the light of the fireflies glowed like pale fire. She couldn't remember the last time her heart had felt so full, and she couldn't remember the last time she had been cautious, so terrified to make the wrong move.
This situation had progressed too far for her to simply turn away or run. Too much had been said - too much, and not enough. The truth had sprung free from her heart, where she would have willed it to hide, and eventually die. When she raised her lime colored eyes to look at him again, she found the courage to see this through, and to accept whatever outcome this situation would yield.
Geneva reached to take his hands into her own and leaned in close to him. "I want you," she said. And it was simple as that. For some unknown reason, he had continually drawn her to him. And he had loomed in her mind, his mystery continually puzzling her, his sarcasm and dry wit urging her on, his anger and self-deprecation never enough to drive her away. She wanted to be with him, but she knew that he probably wouldn't accept that. She breathed in, "Just think about it, okay?"