Through all my tears and sadness, I have a sudden, pulsing desire; I want to kiss him. I want to grab him by the shirt, pull him down to my face and press my lips onto his. Everything feels so bad, so confusing. I want to fall into his arms and let him kiss it all away.
But my tears tilt our world off of its axis, and kissing isn’t in our constellations. The minute they start falling, Jonas plays the part of amiable friend, and we head to my room for some logical research with a good four foot perimeter erected around our bodies. Even when I lean over to look at the laptop screen with him, he maintains a physical barrier I can’t crash through, moving away from me like we’re magnets at like poles.
“There’re some books you can order.” His fingers slide over the trackpad and scroll through page after page. “Some of these sites have good information. Do you want me to bookmark them?”
I nod. I want you to kiss me! Kiss me!
He’s hunched over the screen, staring intently.
I don’t want to think about this fox or the magic or the gifts. I don’t want to think, period. Kiss me, Jonas.
He shakes his head at whatever he’s reading and squints, reaching into his chest pocket to take a pair of glasses out.
Jonas! I wish…I wish you would kiss me.
I feel like a coffee mug just out of the dishwasher, warm and empty. Ready for something to fill me. I reach a hand out and smash through the invisible wall. It lands on his leg and breaks the cool spell.
His head snaps up, his gray-blue eyes focused on me like he’s memorizing the curves of my face. Without looking, he slides the laptop to the floor and explodes the bonds that kept us apart. He never breaks eye contact, so I’m not sure how I wind up half on his lap, his mouth an inch from mine.
“I want to kiss you. Bad.” His pupils are so big, his eyes have gone black.
Instead of answering, I push my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, in at his neck. I knit my hands at the base and rub the soft hair at the nape, then pull at him and his mouth eases down and seals over mine.
His lips move on mine like he’s mouthing words, and I press against him, eyes screwed tight until I can’t wait a minute longer. I open my mouth against his fevered lips and flick my tongue along the edges.
Jonas Balto is sitting on my bed. Jonas Balto has his arms tight around me like he’ll never let me go. I’m crushed against him, almost bruised by his enthusiastic hold. I can smell the sharp slice of motor oil, the minty burn of his shave gel, the pure, perfect smell that’s just him, just Jonas.
Source: Team Indie Pubbed! There you can find :Dream Cast, Playlist, Excerpt, and a Weekend Sale.