She locked herself in her room. She came over to the window. She perched across it, staring out at the garage below.
She saw him getting in his car. The slight, restless way he held his hand over the wheel. She saw the indecision in his face--even from here. It was lit up by the back-light of his car. And with her fingers held to her lips, she drew a breath and slipped off the window ledge.
''What am I doing?'' She asked herself, slipping to her knees on the rug. Her room was a bed, a light spread, some posters, a vanity mirror, desk and chair. It was Goth-themed with sharper, richer colours here and there to contrast. She held herself thoughtfully. Rocking thoughtfully. Her eyes were severely confused as she chewed her lower lip whilst still touching her mouth with her fingers.
She couldn't make up her mind.
She stood up, then walked back over to the window--slowed, then turning on the spot, recalled his hands on her in the garage. Her hands slipped across her elbows, and she hugged herself harder.
The way he'd moved....
She recalled stepping into him at one point. The way he'd slumped back, almost lazily, withdrawing with his shoulders--but even when she'd squared up to him with her aura, he hadn't moved an inch. She'd felt herself falling into him; and her body had demanded him to give up, but he hadn't even been touched by it.
It was like he didn't care...
Yet--
Her hands wandered to her shoulders. She felt along the back of her neck. And as she did it, her body turned towards the mirror to look at her face. Her lips were chalked in black gloss. Her eyes, deep and curious. She peered at herself--her too large nose, her too large lips, her ears--hidden behind her straight, dark hair--were slightly too big, she'd always thought. Yet he'd... the way he'd looked at her at times. The way he'd chased her up onto that car. Was it because of the music? Because of the dance? Or had she misinterpreted him?
''Stupid,'' she breathed. ''You're so stupid. There's no way he felt like that. He doesn't even know you....''
She found herself back at the mirror, though. Her hand had come and wrapped around the edge. And leaning down, she peeked at herself again; then backing up, slowly, she looked at her outfit. The leggings. The training top. She turned slowly, wondering what he saw in her, recalling the way he'd ran his hands up and down her. Innocently, she peered at herself over her shoulder--at her back. At the muscles in her legs, lightly toned and wiry, and then at her arms, which she delicately wrapped her fingers around once again. A small, curious glance towards the window and the garage below--but his car was gone. Then she once again touched at her lips; and she realised she was thinking about his lips as she did it. The way he'd breathed whilst dancing against her. Her eyes withered.
''Fuck,'' she uttered, then slipped to her knees. She sprawled out. A low groan left her throat as she felt her body still pulsing. ''Fuck,'' she breathed again; then slid her hands across the carpet. She couldn't help it. The memory of him was reverberating through her. And then, turning on the carpet, she slid onto her back and felt her weight switching into his--and:
Body pulsing, eyes closed, she lost control....
She saw him getting in his car. The slight, restless way he held his hand over the wheel. She saw the indecision in his face--even from here. It was lit up by the back-light of his car. And with her fingers held to her lips, she drew a breath and slipped off the window ledge.
''What am I doing?'' She asked herself, slipping to her knees on the rug. Her room was a bed, a light spread, some posters, a vanity mirror, desk and chair. It was Goth-themed with sharper, richer colours here and there to contrast. She held herself thoughtfully. Rocking thoughtfully. Her eyes were severely confused as she chewed her lower lip whilst still touching her mouth with her fingers.
She couldn't make up her mind.
She stood up, then walked back over to the window--slowed, then turning on the spot, recalled his hands on her in the garage. Her hands slipped across her elbows, and she hugged herself harder.
The way he'd moved....
She recalled stepping into him at one point. The way he'd slumped back, almost lazily, withdrawing with his shoulders--but even when she'd squared up to him with her aura, he hadn't moved an inch. She'd felt herself falling into him; and her body had demanded him to give up, but he hadn't even been touched by it.
It was like he didn't care...
Yet--
Her hands wandered to her shoulders. She felt along the back of her neck. And as she did it, her body turned towards the mirror to look at her face. Her lips were chalked in black gloss. Her eyes, deep and curious. She peered at herself--her too large nose, her too large lips, her ears--hidden behind her straight, dark hair--were slightly too big, she'd always thought. Yet he'd... the way he'd looked at her at times. The way he'd chased her up onto that car. Was it because of the music? Because of the dance? Or had she misinterpreted him?
''Stupid,'' she breathed. ''You're so stupid. There's no way he felt like that. He doesn't even know you....''
She found herself back at the mirror, though. Her hand had come and wrapped around the edge. And leaning down, she peeked at herself again; then backing up, slowly, she looked at her outfit. The leggings. The training top. She turned slowly, wondering what he saw in her, recalling the way he'd ran his hands up and down her. Innocently, she peered at herself over her shoulder--at her back. At the muscles in her legs, lightly toned and wiry, and then at her arms, which she delicately wrapped her fingers around once again. A small, curious glance towards the window and the garage below--but his car was gone. Then she once again touched at her lips; and she realised she was thinking about his lips as she did it. The way he'd breathed whilst dancing against her. Her eyes withered.
''Fuck,'' she uttered, then slipped to her knees. She sprawled out. A low groan left her throat as she felt her body still pulsing. ''Fuck,'' she breathed again; then slid her hands across the carpet. She couldn't help it. The memory of him was reverberating through her. And then, turning on the carpet, she slid onto her back and felt her weight switching into his--and:
Body pulsing, eyes closed, she lost control....