I slipped his shirt of effortlessly while I sat on his lap facing him. It was tossed to the floor carelessly. I ran my hand down his hard abs, which he took pride in making sure they stayed that way. I stopped just before my hand met the ruff material of his jeans. I intertwined my other hand with his soft hair. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held my close. I brought my gaze up and met it with his. We stayed that way for a while. I closed my eyes and leaned forward. My soft lips which had carefully applied flavored lip gloss on them met with his uncared for lips. They were harsh from the winters bitter wind and snow. I let them linger for a second, parting them slightly.
Then I snapped into reality. This was what he did. He manipulated. He twisted with your feelings. Where this was my first kiss, this very well might have been his hundredth. Kissing him would be the end. He would break my heart the very next day. My lips wouldn’t be the last, and definaitely weren’t the first, to touch his. He would make me cry, he would make me wish I was never born.
I wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction. I wouldn’t let him taste the bitter sweetness of bringing down another girl. Not now, not ever. I drew back, feeling his arms tighten around me. I placed both hands on his chest and pushed back. He asked me what was wrong, why I was doing this to him. My answer was to stand up. I walked in my zebra print stilettos to the door. Right before I left, I turned back to him.
I walked slowly over to where he still sat in a daze. I leaned up close to his face until I could smell his breath, which, by the way, smelled of breath mist. I was about to let my lips touch his when I drew back and slapped him hard. He didn’t see it coming. I waked briskly out of the room. The only sound that could be heard was my heels clicking against the wood.
