Page 39 of The Breaking Pointe
travel when I can or if I feel like it.But I love it here.”
“A lot of people love New York. But why do you love it?” I raise my brows, sipping more wine.
“Being in Brooklyn, specifically, is what I love the most because the people are so diverse and welcoming,” he professes. “It’s also very homey to boot. Something about it to me is scary to leave forever.”
His voice steers in a more passionate direction.
I tilt my head slightly.“It seems like you found your niche here, too.”
“I think so,” he agrees.“Then sometimes I wonder if I’m telling myself that as a façade.”He looks at his beer. “Don’t get me wrong.I adore all the other places, but there’s something about home that’s different. Staten has homes. You can’t find the beauty in the city the same way you can in a full house—with family.” He finally looks at me again, with a more restrained gaze. “I sometimes wish I had that life. With a regular house.”
“Metoo,”Iwhisper.
He licks his lips, looking down again.I scoot forward,readying myself to say something, but opportunely, he does
as well— shooting my wineglass right onto his perfect, white t-shirt.
“I’m so sorry, Colton—oh my God,” I panic, gripping the stem of the glass.
Any second now I’m due for an earful. His nice, possibly expensive shirt, has now been dyed, I’ve wasted wine, and I’m overstaying my welcome for sure now.
“Oh no,” he says, sounding rather entertained by the situation. “That’s too bad. It’s okay, though, I swear.”
He’ssmilingaboutit.
“You aren’t mad?”I hesitate to speak.
“Mad about a shirt?Noelle, I have a million of these,” he scoffs, reaching for the bottom of it, lifting it over his head.“Hope you don’t mind.The wet spot is gonna drive me insane, rubbing against my skin.”
He dabs the shirt against his stomach, balling it up in his hand.I wanna rub against him and share more physical affection. He’s so olive and smooth looking. I spoke ill of his staring habits earlier, but he’s making me eat my words. I could stare at his chest all day, down to the veins protruding from each muscle, all night. And with drowsy eyes, he looks nearly monstrous compared to me.Deep down, I want to find out how he sounds when he’s breathing over the top of me. It wouldn’t be scary with how sonorous and warm his voice is to me. I want him to tell me all the sweet nothings he can think of. Drunk or not.
My hand is developing a mind of its own at the sight of his bare body, up close. I can’t hold myself back from just a little touch, right on his shoulder, as softly as I can.
His eyes bat at my hand, then my face.“Your hands are freezing,” he says, mock annoyed.
“You’re warm.Really warm.And so smooth,” I say, pushing myself closer to him, flattening my hand on his shoulder fully.
I have to keep going. I’m not done admiring his perfectly sculptured body. I need to see if his chest feels the same.
“You’d be warm, too, if forty percent of your body was covered in hair,” he hums, watching my fingers wander against his chest hairs.
He sets his beer down, and his large fingers wrap around my hand while he takes the glass from the other, setting it on the wood next to his beer.Both his hands are holding mine now, massaging them.
“Lemme warm you up.” He continues to speak, holding each hand firmly in his and pulling me into him, face to face. “I just wanna look at those big, green eyes a little more,”
hemumbles,toppingitwithahalf-smile.
Here we are, back to our unfinished situation from earlier. He’s still charming, but even better while he’s shirtless. My heart is beating out of my chest. He set the candles up just right, like he knew it would woo me, and I’m becoming less shocked about how he’s so good at this game.I’m drunk,sure, but I know he deserves a kiss at least. I thought I knew what the goal was here, but it’s crystal clear that I’ve lost sight of the plot since making out with him right here, right now,isallIwant.Ican’tnotkisshimthistime.There’s nobody here, and nothing that can pull us out of the moment. His warmth is spreading to me, buoyed with the drinksand anticipation that we had been building all day over our countless glances and lingering touches. The poweroutage turned our world into a cozy cocoon, where nothing exists butthetwoofus,andtheglowingcandlescasuallydance
with our loud heartbeats. That’sit.I’mseizingit.
“Can I try something?” I whisper into the space between our faces.
“Try it,” he whispers back.
Looking in his eyes, there’s a blend of excitement and tenderness reflecting back at me.My heart is steadily pounding, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.We both sit witha brief moment of hesitation, as if the entire universe has paused to witness this moment with us.I graze my lips against his, tentative at first. My senses are heightened by the wine, and everything is starting to feel like ecstasy. With charged air, I can almost hear the murmurs of unspoken words swirling around us.His hand moves to my cheek, tucking my hair and cupping my face.
I press my lips against his fully, letting the rest of his warm aura envelop me.
