Ice Cold

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

This is entirely unexpected, and yet I react like it is second nature, lifting my hands to the subtle curve of her hips, pulling her closer. It's shocking how well she fits against me, like a suit tailored down to exact measurements. Her lips are soft, her breath sharp and spearmint, her touch around my neck gentle, yet eager. I know April. She's a girl who know what she wants, and goes for it. On the ice, if she wants to win, she wins. And so, in true April fashion, she wants me, and I melt into her- not a single thought manages to remain in my mind for more than a few seconds, before it is gone, leaving only April, April, April remaining. God. I want her, all of her. Before I know it, I'm reaching and I'm lifting her up, her wrapping her legs around my torso as I walk to the wall, pressing her back against it, winding my fingers through her hair. There is so much of her, it's overwhelming, intoxicating. April, April, April. Her smell, her smile against my mouth, her hands on my chest. 

I stop.

What the fuck, Blake?

Breathless, I slowly allow her to regain her footing, our lips still inches apart, my gaze on hers. Jesus, her eyes are so beautiful. How is she so beautiful? Why did I stop kissing her? She looks up at me, quizzical. Beautiful.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I just-"

I cut her off, a feeling I hate settling deep into the pit of my stomach.

"Did you kiss me because you feel bad for earlier?"

She says nothing, and the feeling twists, as though it's punching me from the inside. Of course- it all makes sense. I defended her earlier, and now she's paying me back. She didn't come all the way here, climb through my fucking window, just because she wanted to kiss me. April Jones is (unknowingly on her part) the most sought-after, hard-to-get girl in this whole damn town, and not just because she's a Goddess both on and off the ice, but because she doesn't chase anyone. I feel like an idiot for fooling myself into believing that doesn't apply to me, because of course it does. I look at her, and her gaze softens. She lifts a hand up towards my jaw. I immediately step backwards, and hate how guilty I feel as I watch hurt flash across her soft features. I frown.

"You're right."

"Right?"

It's her turn to frown.

"You shouldn't have come here." 

Her lips part, and her eyes widen. 

"You're serious." 

I look away and nod. She exhales, silent, as though processing the last few minutes. I can't bear to be so close to her, not when she smells so good and looks so breathtaking- it isn't fair. I turn and, in two paces, reach my bed, sitting down on the edge. When I finally look up, April hasn't moved. Instead, she just looks at me. She speaks, her voice melodic and quiet.

"I have no way to leave...not without your parents noticing."

"Shit."

I groan and lift my hand to my face, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. She's right- there's no way I'd let her try and climb back out the window. It was risky enough the first time, what with my parents in the house. Besides, if she fell, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. Sneaking her down the stairs and out either the front or back door is also not an option; my parents have something I think is close to superhuman hearing, and they'd be bound to tell April's parents. And then, I remember. 

"My parents are going out for dinner."

April looks relieved, and I lower my hand to glance at my watch. I cringe.

"But not for at least another hour." 

"Fuck."

She swears, and even that sounds like sweet talk coming out of her mouth. Reluctantly, I pat my hand against the free space beside me. It was fucked up for her to pity-kiss me, but I'm not so much of a dick I'm gonna force her to stand in my room for an hour. The least I can do is provide her some conversation. Then, she can go home and we can forget this entire thing ever happened. Slowly, April moves to approach the bed, sinking down beside me. She sits straight, her hands in her lap, her shoulders tense. We sit in silence, both of us too awkward to break it. Then, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks, keeping her gaze locked to the floor. 

"This doesn't have to be...you know...complicated."

This piques my interest. I tilt my head to look at her.

"It isn't complicated. I defend you, you kiss me. It's pity, I get it."

"When you kissed me, was that pity?"

Her response takes me straight back to the first time we kissed, out on the ice. There was no sympathy, no longing, no need for me to kiss her- she stunned me with her skating, and I didn't know how else to tell her how beautiful it had been. How beautiful she was. Is. I clear my throat.

"No. It wasn't." 

"Okay. So...we've both kissed each other. I think it's fair to say you're attracted to me...and I am to you."

This is an obvious statement, considering our hands were all over each other literal minutes ago. Still, I feel something in my chest, sort of like a lock clicking into place.

"What are you trying to say, April?"

She finally looks up, something fiery in her gaze. Something new.

"I meant it when I said this doesn't have to be complicated. We can just be two people attracted to each other. We can just..."

"Just...?"

I wait for her to finish her sentence, but she doesn't. Instead, she just leans forward, tilts her head and softly presses her lips to mine. I can't pull away, the invisible hold she seems to have on me too strong. I close my eyes and I kiss her back, my hand instinctively rising to her cheek. However, a beat later, I break the kiss, lingering close. 

"Finish the sentence, April. Tell me what you want."

"You."

My breath hitches.

"I want you. No feelings, no strings, no complications. I just want you." 

Her fingers trail down my chest and pull at the material of my shirt. I've done meaningless hookups before, one-night stands. I know how the drill works, and I know that's what she wants. I know my heart is screaming at me to tell her no, to beg her to give me a chance to show her just so good I could be to her. And yet, I ignore it, kissing her with a force ignited by want. 

Minutes move by, hands slip beneath shirts, skin explores skin. 

If she wants me, she'll have me.