Page 55 of The Story Of Us

He looks ethereal.

I take this chance to look over the rest of his face, too. The small freckles dotted around his nose that look like a constellation of stars I want to draw my finger across. The slight indents on the sides of his nose from his glasses that I want to smooth out. The upward curve of his lips as he gives me a soft smile, and I have to look away before I start thinking about anything else to do with his lips. When I look back up at his eyes, his pupils are wide, and I can see his eyes darting around my face, taking in my features, too.

“Can I kiss you?”

I don’t think I heard him properly.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you, jaanu?”

I look over his face once more, wondering how he read my mind. His eyes are completely focused on mine, and I glance back down at his lips again, nodding my head without even realising. He leans closer, and I do the same, both of us tilting our heads to the side.

“Are you sure?”

This time I know I’m nodding, and I lean over the desk more, completely out of my chair now as he does the same.

“I’m sure,” I tell him, and the sincerity in his gaze has me closing my eyes as I wait for my life to change.

It’s the softest of touches, barely there, but I can feel it absolutely everywhere. It’s like I’m both completely in and out of my body. Every single nerve in my body is alive, concentrated on the place where his mouth is on mine, a place that no one has ever touched before and no one else ever will.

It always has to be him.

I keep my eyes closed as I feel his hand cover my cheek, his thumb stroking across it as he presses his lips to mine again softly. My hand covers his wrist, my fingers running up it until they cover his, and try to find the gaps in between them. I slide my fingers between his, and they fit perfectly like we’re statues cut from the same slab of stone.

He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to mine, and lets out a shaky breath. I already miss the feeling of his mouth on mine. Now I understand why it’s always such a pivotal moment in books, why the main characters always put so much into that first kiss, and how it changes everything.

I don’t know how we went so long without doing it, don’t know if I can ever go back to a time when we didn’t.

I don’t think I’ll ever recover.

When I open my eyes, he’s already looking at me, and I notice how his eyes dart down to my lips again and then back up to my eyes. He’s smiling again, so bright and beautiful that it takes my breath away, and I wish I could always see him like this. I wish that I could always be the reason for it.

His hand is still covering my cheek, and our fingers are still locked together, both of us soothing each other.

“Jaanu, jaanu, jaanu,” he says softly, barely a whisper and it sounds like a prayer.

I close the distance this time, hoping he can hear the words I’m scared to say.

The urge to lean my head on his shoulder, to just rest on him for a second, to feel that familiar comfort, is so strong. But then I think about how we just watched a movie together for the first time, and I couldn’t even hold his hand. I couldn’t lean on him, couldn’t touch him properly, couldn’t link our fingers together, and feel like he was mine. I just had to settle for leg against leg, and I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes.

I push myself off the bed, get to my feet, and clamber for my bag on his desk. In my rush, it falls off and catches on the handle for the top drawer. When I yank it, the drawer opens.

I hear Isaac scrambling off the bed, and then he’s right next to me as my hands reach for the stack of birthday cards. He tries to close the drawer, but it’s too late. I’m already dropping my bag and pulling out the cards.

“You kept them?” I ask, unable to hide the way my voice is shaking, just like my hands are.

I feel Isaac move closer to me, that change in the air, that magnetic pull, and his hand hovers over mine as I go through them. He wants to take them from me, but he won’t.

“Of course I did,” he whispers like he’s scared to admit it.

“Why did you keep them?”

“Why do you think, Violet?” It comes out strained.

He drops his hand from next to mine, taking a step back from me as if distance will make anything about this easier.

“You broke up with me, Isaac.” I remind him because he’s the reason we’re even having this conversation right now.

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