22 - Kiss Me

22

Kiss Me

I saiah's eyes darken behind his glasses when I appear in the doorway.

A faded t-shirt of his falls to my thigh, and my curls tumble down past my shoulders. I stalk toward the bed, where Raven is curled up at the foot, and the covers on my side are already pulled down.

"I like you in my clothes," he says as I climb in, my bad knee first. "I like you in my bed more."

"This version of you is a lot more vocal."

"Probably has something to do with the fact that I'm not a teenager," he says, taking a sip of water, a book open in his hand. "And the fact that I'm not scared I'm going to push you away."

"You're not?"

"Not anymore. I'd just chase after you."

I snort, but I secretly love it. Turning on my side, my leg brushes his. "Thanks for letting me stay over." I let my eyes roam over his bare chest, which is also mostly covered in ink, some even dipping into the waistband of his boxers, before it continues down his leg. There's so much to be discovered.

"Come here."

For a second, I hesitate but then scoot closer. He lifts his arm, and I move into the space like it was made for me. I exhale when my head finds a home on his chest and my hand on the smooth planes of his stomach. Isaiah closes the book and places it on the nightstand, his now free hand taking mine and tugging me.

"Isaiah, I can't get any closer."

He raises a brow. "Yes, you can."

"What? You want me to crawl on top of you?"

"Yes, exactly." He doesn't give me a chance, instead just arranges me until I have to finish the job. Isaiah cradles me as I rest my chin on my hands that are now on his chest. My legs are intertwined with his, and there isn't a part of us that isn't touching. My knee aches, but I don't care.

"Greedy."

"You're damn right I am." Seconds later, I'm attacked with an onslaught of kisses. Over my hair, on my forehead, over the bridge of my nose and the apples of my cheeks. There's a hand resting on my butt that is making my brain short-circuit and eyes that are looking at me like I'm the only star in the sky.

"Would you care if I kissed you until we fell asleep?"

"Not at all."

"You tell me if anything I do makes your knee hurt."

In response, I crawl up his body until I'm straddling him. It pulls the muscle but nothing more than I'm allowed. "I'm fine. Kiss me. You've got a lot of time to make up for."

His head leans back into the pillow, eyes light with amusement. "I know I do."

Hands pull me down until our lips touch. I sigh in relief instantly, my body sinking into his. A soft groan escapes his lips, and it crawls down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My hands cup his cheeks, my thumb tracing over the sharp cut of his jaw and holding me to him.

Isaiah pulls back but only enough to kiss me everywhere else again. Down the curve of my neck, my collar bone, my shoulder and back. Leaving a trail of heat behind with each tiny butterfly kiss. His teeth nip gently, and my breath hitches. My brain is a hazy place where its only care is Isaiah.

We kiss, and we kiss. And Isaiah proves to be a very fast learner. Learning exactly what to do with his lips and his tongue that make my body sing. At some point, I'm pressed into the pillows, Isaiah hovering over me and blocking out the rest of the world.

"Everything about you is perfect, Ro." He places butterfly kisses on my cheeks and down my shoulder.

I sigh, my brain not working properly. "This is so much better than when we were young."

Isaiah laughs, his teeth tugging at my lip before pulling back. A gentle hand pushes my hair back. "You okay in there?"

"Don't look at me like that. You're the one kissing me stupid."

A beaming smile tilts his lips. His eyes soften a second later. "I could kiss you forever."

"Sounds nice."

And that's that.

Isaiah kisses me until we fall asleep together in the dark.

Sunlight streams in through the blinds.

Reality strikes in waves.

I'm practically burrowed into Isaiah's side. My leg is thrown over one of his, and my arms are tucked against his ribcage. There's an arm wrapped around me and a steady rise and fall of a chest under my cheek.

I have crawled over him like a koala.

Slowly, I unfurl a bit, my hand crawling over the lean, smooth planes of his stomach. A sigh escapes from him—a big exhale—and I bring my head up to look at him. He's still asleep from the soft flutters of his eyelids. I could sleep longer if I wanted, but I'd rather stare at him while I have the chance. At the foot of the bed, Raven is curled between his legs, her eyes tired but watching us.

The light coming in lands in streaks over Isaiah's brown skin and black ink, and I take it all in. Unable to help myself, I trace over some of the artwork with a featherlight touch. They're so intricate. Fine lines and details make up every piece of artwork he has. There are nods to all his favorite things intertwined in larger pieces—ones I assume he let the artist have creative vision or things he liked the look of—but I recognize all the tidbits.

A nod to Dead Poets Society , nods to Toni Morrison and Langston Hughes, to Maya Angelou, Sade, Tracy Chapman, and Stevie Wonder. Even with only black ink, there are fun ones, too—candy hearts, ghostly figures hiding in the background, and some other odd ones that I'll have to ask about.

"See something you like?"

"Jesus Christ," I say, my heart practically jumping out of my body. His hand squeezes my side underneath his t-shirt. Heat spreads from palm to fingertip into my skin. I tip my head up, seeing tired, heated, brown eyes looking back. "Give a girl a warning next time?"

I'm given a lazy smile. "Noted. Good morning."

"Morning." I press a kiss to his shoulder before resting my chin on his chest.

"I want a kiss."

I scrunch my nose. "No, I need to brush my teeth first."

He rolls his eyes. "I'll get it one way or another, Ro. May as well give in now." Before I can answer, he tugs me up himself and presses a sweet kiss to my lips. My body relaxes instantly. With a quick hand, he reaches to the nightstand, putting his glasses on.

Heat rushes over my skin. Dumb how hot glasses can be. Could just be him, though. Isaiah turns on his side, trapping me in further. Our bodies are like magnets, unable to pull away. He plays with the curls falling over my face, twisting and untwisting with gentle fingers.

"You want coffee?"

"Please."

"What about breakfast? French toast? Pancakes? Waffles?"

I laugh, filled with such youthful joy, I can't contain it. "Be careful. I could get used to this."

His eyes are locked with mine. "Yeah, me, too."

In the corner of my eye, I see the semicolon tattoo on his wrist. So tiny, it's no wonder I hadn't seen it until now. My eyes are stuck on it, and after a few moments, I think he notices.

"Ro?"

"Yeah?" My voice cracks. Isaiah nuzzles me, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "Can you—will you tell me about this?"

His face softens, and his brown eyes go molten in the early sunlight. "It was about three years after Elijah left. I had just graduated and…" he sighs, taking a moment. "Nothing had gotten better. The mountain felt taller than ever; the climb was endless. And I couldn't figure out how to take another step." Isaiah pulls me closer, tighter. As if I'm going anywhere. "It was pills. My roommate found me."

I swallow, unable to take my eyes off of him.

After a moment, he continues, "After that, I got help. I told Mom. I went to therapy. I started writing. Every day. Every minute. Writing…saved me. Then, I got the book deal." Isaiah smiles—barely but enough. "That doesn't mean everything is perfect. There are days, moments, months where it's hard. Where it feels like I'm walking through quicksand, but these days, I want to be here."

My heart aches, wishing it could wrap him up itself. I lean up, brushing my lips over his. "Thank you for telling me."

"Anything, Aurora. I'll tell you anything." His fingers find purchase in my hair, holding me to him for a moment until I settle back.

I exhale, trying not to think too long or too hard. Trying to just be here with him. But it's reminded me that there are still going to be things we don't know.

"Are we crazy?" I ask, my fingers tapping his side.

"Aside from the obvious, how do you mean?"

I turn onto my back, and he follows me. There's a residual ache in my knee but nothing of concern. Isaiah's arms rest over my chest, fingers toying with the sleeve of his shirt, brushing over the skin of my arm.

"For rushing into this, I guess? I mean—I don't know. Should we take more time? Slow it down?"

"Realistically, all we've done is kiss."

I let out a soft laugh, appreciative of how he makes a seemingly tough conversation feel easy. "Isaiah…"

He exhales, contemplating. I lay there as his eyes roam over my face. "All we can do is do what feels right, Aurora. And this, being with you, laughing with you, even fighting with you, it all feels far more right than before. If we slow down, what do we gain? The way I see it, there are things we missed out on that we can't get back. What's the point in missing out on anything else when this—being with you, in any capacity—feels more right than anything else."

"You make it sound so easy." I know what I'm feeling is just fear, but I can't push it down.

Isaiah brushes back my hair with his other hand, his thumb rubbing over my forehead. "It is. It's you; it's me. It was hard when I wasn't here because we obviously weren't together. But now, we are. And when has anything ever been hard when we were in it together?"

I admit, for someone who hasn't been in a real relationship, never successfully dated for obvious reasons, I have a lot of anxiety about what I think they should be. How to act, what to do. Isaiah sees that and responds in the best way he knows how.

"It hasn't."

I love his gentle smiles, how they make me feel cared for. "Alright then. You tell me if it ever feels like too much. We can slow down if you need. We can take our time. It's up to you. We can talk it out. You can ask me anything, whatever you need—I'm not going anywhere, Aurora."

My hand finds his cheek. "I don't want you to." I give a small sigh, "I don't want to change things. To slow them down or anything, I was just in my own head."

"I know that. You're allowed to be in there, allowed to feel those things. It doesn't make you weak, Ro. It makes you human. With feelings."

We both know I have issues with that. Feeling weak. Feeling like I'm not good enough or not excelling. And just like before, Isaiah removes the weight of all that pressure and reminds me I don't have to walk through life feeling weighed down.

"Thank you," I say, tapping his nose. "Can you kiss me again?"

Needy. A needy, clingy person is what I turn into the moment I'm allowed to.

"Thought you'd never ask," Isaiah murmurs.

Before I can blink, he's kissing me again, pulling me into him and making it all feel like a big dream. He kissed me to sleep, and he's going to kiss me into delusion if I'm not careful.

But reality is overrated. I'd rather be kissed into oblivion with him anyway.