Chapter 19: chapter nineteen

~ T H E N ~

“What? There is no way that’s what it equals!” Oliver exclaimed as he slammed his pen onto the table and then dropped his head down beside it too, a groan escaping his lips.

I laughed and shook my head at him as I turned the page of his exercise book, “It is, I literally just proved it to you twice!”

He groaned again, face still flat on the table.

“I bloody hate maths,” he grumbled just as the doorbell rang.

I messed up his hair and got up. Through a soft laugh, I commented; “Who doesn’t?”

Oli finally lifted his head up and mock-glared at me, “Shut up, at least you’re good at it, you lucky bastard.”

I grinned and left him to sulk on his own before heading to the front door as the person resorted to knocking loudly, obviously impatient.

I opened it and almost felt my eyebrows fly off my face.

“Please don’t be mad!” were Storm’s first, rushed words just as my surprise turned into anger within a split second and I was quick to slam the door closed. At least I would have if he hadn’t put his hand out and stopped the door from shutting.

I made an annoyed noise and tried to close it again but considering how much bigger and stronger he was than me, I was easily overpowered.

“Mia, please-”

“Don’t,” I snapped through gritted teeth, giving up on shutting the door on him and instead blocking his way by stepping in the doorway, arms crossed. “You do not get to talk to me right now after not speaking to me for three weeks – three weeks, Storm!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen – I swear.”

Storm looked almost pained as I stepped forward and shut the door behind me, conscious of the fact that Oli was still inside the house and if I raised my voice any louder he’d be able to hear what was happening.

“And, what? I’m supposed to believe it was some weird coincidence that after you finally ask me out you disappear without as much as a goodbye?” I asked as my cheeks heated up in anger, and exasperation caused tears to well up in my eyes despite how much I wished they didn’t.

“Mia, I-”

The door opened behind me, cutting Storm off abruptly which caused me to blink away my tears as Oli stepped onto the porch, jumper in hand and a confused look on his face. “Oh, hey man,” he said a smile tilting his lips in spite of his confusion as he put out a hand for Storm to shake. I feel Oli’s gaze travel over to me but I avoid it considering I knew my eyes were still watery. “My mum just called wanting me back home so I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said ruffling my hair in goodbye even though I had my head facing the other way from him, “Thanks for everything, Little M.”

I forced a smile at that and smacked his hand away, throat still constricted in frustration, “See you,” I muttered waving goodbye as he left, not missing the way he sent Storm a look I couldn’t quite decipher, one that the said boy avoided as his eyes were kept on me.

“You should have told me you were leaving,” I muttered once Oli had drove off, tone calmer than before now that I had regained my composure again.

Storm sighed and tried to step into my line of vision since I refused to look at him, “I know, Mia, and I’m sorry but I have a reason-”

I shook my head and crossed my arms, “what? What could’ve possibly have taken you three weeks to finally come and talk to me after asking me out?” I asked, anger and annoyance and hurt consuming me all at once all over again, but my tone revealing nothing as I stared up at him and tried to figure him out.

“I was at my grandparents’ house,” he uttered, stepping forward to touch me which only made me step back and away from him, my glare telling him exactly how I felt right then. He dropped his arm immediately and a hurt look crossed his features.

“You couldn’t have picked up the phone or sent me a message, or something? You couldn’t have told me that you were leaving or gone?”

He grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, head shaking in way of reply as he paced a few steps down my front porch before coming back to me, reminding me of a cat in a cage as it was his turn to suddenly start avoiding my gaze. “No, it was a sudden event. There’s no internet or anything where my grandparent’s live and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I’d be gone for so long.”

“What event?” I frowned, noticing how he suddenly became a fidgeting mess.

His hands flexed by his sides, clenching and unclenching as if he wasn’t sure whether to punch or grab onto something. “She… my grandmother had a heart attack the night we went to the movies,” he said at last, fingers gliding through his messy hair for the second time and his eyes pointed at the floor, staring at it intently – blankly – as he finally stopped pacing. “My family and I left to go to the hospital the second I got home,” his voice lowered and his body started to sag as if the memory alone weighed him down, letting me know what had happened before he even said it. “She died five days later in the hospital, with her family around her and her husband by her side,” he swallowed and closed his eyes now and the pain that crossed his features made me regret the way I always jumped to conclusions all the time.

I stepped forward and slowly linked our hands together, my throat constricting once again but this time in sadness rather than aggravation. “Oh, Storm; I’m so sorry,” I whispered, using my other hand to brush hair from his eyes as he continued to hang his head low, eyes squeezed shut as if to stop himself from crying.

“Her funeral was last week,” he murmured before I let his hand go and wrapped my arms around his waist, his own arms wrapping around me tightly like I was some lifeline, his face pressed against my neck and hair. “I only just came back last night and I had to see you – I had to say sorry and that I never meant to just disappear like that. I should have-”

“Don’t, Storm… Stop it,” I warned pulling back slightly so I could meet his gaze but not yet ready to let him go, “You’re doing that thing again where you’re apologising for something that wasn’t even your fault.”

He frowned at me, “It was my fault, I could have sent a letter or something, or dropped by to tell you that-”

“Storm,” I said, a breathy laugh escaping my lips despite myself as I pressed my palm against his cheek and held his gaze unwaveringly. “Stop it. I completely understand, okay? You don’t have to keep apologising or worrying about it when you have other things to be worrying about. I’m the one who should be apologising for jumping into conclusions. I’m the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way ‘round.”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts,” I told him, letting him go before I kissed him on the cheek lightly, “now come inside before we freeze our asses off.”

He smiled as I took hold of his hand and led him inside my house for the first time ever.

“I only came to apologise.”

I glanced back at him, midway from locking the front door before I paused. “Oh, do you have to go?” I frowned.

He shook his head sheepishly and told me; “No, but I didn’t expect for you to let me in.”

I cocked my head a little and eyed him in confusion, “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he blushed slightly, “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

I sighed and finished locking the door before I took hold of his big warm hand with my own cold one and dragged him toward the kitchen.

“I was mad, in fact, I was livid; but not anymore – and that’s all that matters, right?”

He smiled softly and squeezed my hand faintly before bringing them up to his lips so he could kiss my knuckles like he had the night he asked me out, “God, I missed you, Mia.”

“Jones,” I added after a short pause.

“What?”

“My last name,” I laughed realising I’d never told him before, “It’s Jones.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought as he eyed me once we came to a stop in the kitchen, “do you have a middle name?”

“Yeah, it’s Elizabeth – lame, I know right?” I rolled my eyes thinking about all the times the boys had teased me for having an “old person’s” name.

“Mia Elizabeth Jones,” Storm said slowly, my name falling off his tongue as soft and sweet as honey. I involuntarily shivered even as I turned on the kettle and prepared to make hot chocolate before I swallowed and bit my lip thoughtfully as I watched him watching me intently.

“What’s yours? Your full name, I mean.”

It took him a moment, but after a few seconds more of staring he let himself smirk a little, looking glad that I changed the subject from our earlier conversation.

“Storm Riviera.”

“No middle name?” I asked, a little disappointed as I didn’t have anything to tease him about.

He chuckled and shook his head before he concurred, “Nope, no middle name.”

“Wow, lame,” I pouted childishly before I got out two mugs and bit my lip gently. “Also… I missed you too,” I muttered turning to meet his gaze, “a lot.”

My cheeks heated up as I realised how needy that sounded but by the sudden grin on Storm’s face I knew there wasn’t any need to be embarrassed by how I felt. I made my way over to the cupboard but he stepped in my way, and before I knew it his lips were on mine, soft and innocently at first until it took a sudden turn the second I pulled him closer by hooking my fingers around the belt hoops by his hips.

His hand brushed against my cheek softly before it trailed leisurely down my neck, my arm and my waist – all the while keeping a firm hold on me with his other arm even as he pressed me against the kitchen counter – not a millimetre of space left between us.

As we kissed and fell into a rhythm I’d long ago gotten used to and enjoyed, I realised just how much I had really missed him. How, even though we’d been a part for longer than three weeks before, it was suddenly different ever since I became aware of just how much I actually liked him.

Having him here, pressed against me with his familiar hands trailing places that still made me shiver, and kissing me in a way that I could never get tired of, it was like an ache I never knew I had was fading and parts of me were starting to fill up with a sort of bliss that I’d never felt before. It was the kind of feeling that people tell you about but you don’t really believe will happen to you until it actually does; something that would make someone question themselves as to whether they should run the opposite way, or grab that feeling with both hands and never let go.

I did the latter and grabbed Storm with both hands (literally) as he lifted me up and sat me down onto the kitchen counter. The second I was sitting comfortably, I pulled him forward and situated him between my legs and without complaint he shifted forward and pulled me even closer as his arms encircled my waist and our bodies met once again, a low moan escaping his throat as I tightened my legs slightly and ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at it faintly.

I found myself wanting him even more – close, close and closer – as it soon became passion against passion and want against want the longer and harder we kissed.

He pulled away slightly so we could catch our breath but his mouth only leaves for a split second before they’re soon touching my skin again – my cheek, my jaw, my neck, my collarbone – butterfly kisses being left everywhere as I panted for air and tried not to lose myself in the simple ecstasy of just having him kiss me.

The simple ecstasy that was him.

I felt like my body was going mad, my mind feeling just the same as a war raged on inside me – one half completely full of want and lust and bliss while the other was saying no, no, no, Mia, you’re still a damn virgin and you are not losing it so suddenly to a guy you barely know!

But he wasn’t a stranger anymore and I did know him.

He trusted me.

And now that I thought about it; I trusted him, too.

And if I was being completely honest, with the way he was kissing me and touching me there was absolutely no way I could’ve objected or gone against what things were so obviously leading to.

It didn’t matter to me that I was no longer against losing It to a guy who I wasn’t absolutely in love with, or whatever. No longer mattered that the both of us were completely sober and knew what we were doing because oh boy did I just want him. All of him.

I shuddered slightly as the nerves in my body tripled and the fire in my belly intensified as fingers trailed up my thighs, the feel of his fingers sliding between my shirt and my skin causing me to moan faintly, but not stop kissing him.

Instead he stopped kissing me.

Before I knew it our lips were no longer joined and his hands had retracted. Our bodies no longer touched and the coldness suddenly smothered me as he pulled away and stepped back so he was no longer between my legs, confusion and disappointment causing a peculiar sound to leave my lips as the incessant want and desire still clouded my mind.

“Fuck,” he muttered running his fingers through his already messy hair. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he swore turning around to walk to the stove only to come back so he was in front of me again. “Sorry-I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off and shook his head before he turned around to walk back to the stove, but this time not coming back as I hopped off the counter in pure embarrassment and confusion and complete disappointment.

“Wait, what?” I asked unable to stop the way frustration and hurt bled into my tone as I watched him lean his hands against the stove counter, back flexing and muscles jerking as he squeezed onto it and hung his head low, breathing still coming out quick and heavy.

“We shouldn’t have… things were getting too-” he made an aggravated noise and turned around, brows furrowed and eyes searching mine as if looking for an answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept going.”

My brow furrowed as I involuntarily pulled a face in utter bewilderment but before I could ask what the hell he was talking about he beats me to it. He asked; “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Upstairs, down the hall,” I answered, confusion in my tone as he swallowed visibly and avoided my gaze, already turning away to walk off. “Third door to the left.”

He was gone before I could say another word.

x x x By the time he came back downstairs I was sitting at the table with a mug of hot chocolate between my palms, one foot up against the chair I sat on as I half hugged my leg against me and finally had my mind made up about what was happening between Storm and I.

He didn’t say anything as he lowered himself into the seat beside me, body turned to face me as he waited patiently for me to say something – as if he just knew.

I bit my lip and stared down determinedly at the brown liquid, not yet wanting to say what I’d been thinking about for the past ten or so minutes, and before today, for almost three weeks now.

“What’s on your mind, Mia?” Storm asked softly, putting his elbow against the table and then placing his head against his palm, eyes boring into the side of my face.

I sighed and finally looked at him, noticing how his left eye had more green flecks than the other in the afternoon light but was nonetheless still a honey brown. “I’ve been thinking – even before you came over today – that maybe we should…” I trailed off and bit the inside of my cheek before I forced myself to continue. “Maybe we shouldn’t be in a relationship just yet.”

His eyebrows raised quickly and he suddenly sits up straight again, “What?”

I winced and looked away before I let my mug go and turned to face him properly, “It’s just… It’s not that I don’t like you-”

“Then what is it?” he asked, brow furrowed and his eyes full of so much confusion and insecurity I almost – almost – regretted ever bringing it up.

Do it, I thought, I have to do it.

“I just think that we might have gone into the whole relationship thing too soon,” I started, playing with the hem of my shirt unconsciously as he waited for me to explain myself. “I mean, if you think about it, we barely know each other well enough-”

“If this is about me leaving for three weeks, I told you it wasn’t my choice. I-”

I shook my head, cutting him off quickly before he could spin this on himself, “No, Storm, it’s not.”

“Then what?” he practically begged, leaning forward to take my hand into his and causing me to realise I had been staring down at the space between us.

“I just… this thing between us … it’s weird. I mean, I barely know you and yet I like you so damn much that being away from you it – it hurts,” I swallowed and let his hands go before standing up abruptly, feeling suffocated by his stare for the first time ever. “I feel like this isn’t normal. It’s…” I thought about it and turned around to meet his stare head on again, “It’s stupid but it just seems too good to be true.”

He stood up as well and put his hands on my shoulders before gliding them down my arms until his hands were holding onto mine lightly again, eyes resigned and sad all of a sudden. “So you want to break up, is that what you’re saying? That because of your fear of the unknown you don’t want to date with me?” he queried, continuing before I could answer his questions. “Weren’t you the one who told me that relationships were meant to be ‘sweet and adorable and just a bit dramatic’? Well, you’re sweet and adorable and the drama is all thanks to me – everything else will just fall into place and you’ll know every little thing about me before you know it.”

I smiled a little at the memory of me saying something along the lines of what he said.

“Yeah, I guess,” I murmured.

“But?” he asked already sensing it.

I sighed and let his hands go as I stepped away from him, afraid that if I held his intense gaze and was too close to his familiar and welcoming warmth for too long I’d drop the subject and never get the courage to say what I needed to say ever again.

“But maybe we should just stay friends for now,” I said softly, “It’s not that I regret saying yes to you or that my feelings have somehow changed, it’s…” I trailed off and drew my eyebrows together in a half grimace, half frown – not wanting to speak my thoughts but knowing I had to. “What if you don’t like me, Storm? What if you just like the idea of me? And vice versa?”

He sighed as well and ran his fingers through his hair, all the way to the back before he brought it to the front and rubbed it against his face. He dropped his hand, swallowed visibly and then stared at me again. “So you want to break up?” he said at last, shoving his hands into his pockets and watching me with such sad and guarded eyes it made my heart clench.

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to cross my arms over my chest in order to stop myself from reaching out to him. “Well, no… but I want to be friends first – before we let this relationship between us develop any further. I don’t know, how to explain it-I just-I don’t know.”

“So, we start again,” he said deadpan, leaning back against the table behind him, “That’s what you want?”

“I… I guess so.”

For the longest moment ever, neither of us said a word and the sound of our breathing and the ticking of some stupid clock in the background was the only thing that filled the suffocating silence.

He walked off and the sound of the front door opening and shutting probably hurt me more than I could care to admit, causing me to fall into the nearest seat and stare blankly at the wall in front of me.

I did it. I screwed up the only good thing that has happened in my life since becoming friends with the boys and Sarah.

It felt like forever as I sat there trying not to bawl my eyes out, heart clenching and body trembling, before a quick, sharp knock at the front door snapped me out of my state of shock.

I didn’t want to answer the door.

Not at all.

In fact, the second I heard the knocking I didn’t even want to get out of my seat, but for some odd reason – I did.

I opened the door and found Storm standing there with a small, playful smirk on his stupid face. “Hi, I’m Storm,” he started as I continued to stand there and stare at him stupidly. “Sorry to bother you, but our mutual friend Thomas Goldberg sent me here, he said that you could help me with something?”

I felt my heart swell at the realisation of what he was doing, the feel of my throat closing up a tell-tale sign that I was close to crying. “Oh really?” I forced myself to say, voice soft and raw as I was still completely confused and surprised and slow, eyes burning slightly as the sight of him brought a set of tears to the surface. “And what may that be, exactly?”

Despite his eyes softening at the undoubtedly mortifying sight of my reddened and watery eyes, Storm’s lips tilted up even more until it turned into the smirk he’d given me the first time we had met all those months ago; a lopsided thing that was as imperfect as it was adorable.

“You see I have this ex-girlfriend,” he told me as I swallowed down the lump in my throat, the fear of him leaving me finally subsiding the longer he stood there and stared at me with those honey coloured eyes; more gold than it was brown and so full of amusement it made my eyes water even more because he didn’t leave me. “And she’s kind of obsessed with me and she’s kind of waiting to jump me and I’m afraid that when she does I’ll be too polite to tell her to leave me the hell alone – to put it kindly,” he all but quoted himself.

I smiled and opened the door even wider, all but yanking him inside before I shut it and wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face against his chest as he continued. “So, just putting it out there,” he murmured before he brushed hair from my face softly – more carefully and more affectionately than ever before.

“And?” I asked softly, trying not to react to the way he danced his fingers against the bare skin of my neck and shoulder and arms, but unable to help the way my body leaned even closer against his.

He rubbed his hands up and down my sides gently, almost subconsciously, after I’d let him go so I could stare up at him.

“And I want you to kiss me,” he replied, breath hitching slightly as I trailed my hands up his arms and neck and leaned up against him until our lips were only an inch away.

“I should really be against this,” I uttered smiling as the memory all but replayed in my mind – a memory I doubt I could forget about any time soon.

“But you’re not,” he pointed out smugly, but not unkindly, exactly as he had at Tom’s party the very first time we met.

I couldn’t help but kiss him then, eyes closing and my insides still shaking as one continuous thought ran through my mind – he didn’t leave me. He didn’t leave me. He didn’t leave me.

As I felt his hands trail down my sides and past my backside to lift me up my legs wrapped around his waist without me even needing to think about it, my body reacting to his like it was second nature as I allowed him to walk us somewhere as if I weighed nothing.

I didn’t care about where he was taking us.

I didn’t care about how desperate I suddenly felt in his embrace.

I didn’t care that we technically just broke up and were now making out like our lives depended on it.

All I cared about – and all I could think about – was how he didn’t leave and how goddamn happy this sappy, stupid-idiot could make me without even needing to try and how, despite having my heart practically ripped out less than five minutes ago, he was back and he was here and everything was okay again because he didn’t leave me.

Maybe this really was too good to be true, but then again maybe I deserved to have something good in my life after everything I had been through?

Maybe Storm didn’t need to know about every little thing about me before we dated and maybe all that mattered was that he could make me happy when it counted the most – that he could understand me and that he wouldn’t leave when things got too hard and rough and sad.

I didn’t realise he’d pulled away until I felt his fingers brush something wet off my cheek and then kissed the area softly. Didn’t even realise that I was laid across my lounge room couch with him on top until I opened my eyes to find him hovering above me.

“Don’t cry, Mia,” he whispered forlornly, brushing away a few more tears and making me realise that yes, I had in fact been crying.

I smiled softly and ran my fingers through his silky hair, already messy since we had now made out twice within the past twenty or so minutes. “I’m not,” I murmured, tracing my fingers down the middle of his face softly – down the bridge of his nose and the bump of his lips and chin before I let it trail across his strong jaw line and cheek bones slowly.

“But you were,” he said, watching me as I eyed his face and tried to memorise every line and curve and what little flaws he had that made him all the more beautiful to me. “…Why?”

“Because, I’m happy,” I smiled wider, allowing myself to finally hold his gaze so he could see how true those words were, how true my next words were going to be. “You have no idea just how happy you make me.”

For the second time today since he got to my house, a very long silence ensued between us, but this time I had no problem with it as I stared at him stare back at me, allowing him to feel and see exactly how I felt in a way I’d never let anyone else do before.

He licked his lips and smiled in such a genuine and crooked and endearing way that I couldn’t help but kiss him softly. “My name is Storm Riviera,” he stated once we’d pulled apart after a small, quick moment, “I’m 18 years old, technically only 6 months older than you even though I graduated last year. I went to Galvin Secondary College, and after less than a year got sent to The Grange due to some fights that I got into, and there I met a girl named Gemma,” he stopped and swallowed as he shifted slightly above me, but I said nothing as he trudged on. He took a deep breath and caressed my cheek absentmindedly, “it was at the end of year 7 that we became friends and at the time she was the prettiest, most amazing girl I knew because no one ever talked to the new, weird kid with hang-me-downs.” My heart squeezed slightly. “The year after, we became even closer friends and before I knew it she was my first ever girlfriend and things were going swell,” he paused and something in his jaw ticked as he dropped his gaze and stared at my mouth unseeingly.

“And then I met her brother, three years older and twice my size and height at the time, and though she thought the world of him, I hated him because he was an asshole who’d broken my sister’s heart once upon a time.

The first time I tried to break up with her, it was because I couldn’t make any friends – she wouldn’t let me. We got back together after she cried for almost a week straight and sent her brother to get me, who forced me to apologise even though I hadn’t said anything mean or out of line.

The second time was half a year later because she started getting so rude and stuck-up and judgemental that every time she spoke I had to stop myself from yelling at her.” He swallowed and closed his eyes as I pressed my palms against his cheeks. He kissed the inside of my left wrist before he murmured; “She sent her brother after me again, and that was the first time he put his hands on me.”

His arms on either side of me shook slightly at the effort of keeping his weight off me for so long, so I sat up and forced him to do the same, barely registering the way he pulled me over his lap without hesitance.

“My name is Storm Riviera,” he said again, only this time his tone had shifted, his body had become relaxed again and his eyes were suddenly different – firm, somehow – as he tucked hair behind my ear for the millionth time and then held my gaze intensely. “And for four years I let myself get treated like shit, until I met a guy named Thomas Goldberg, who told me that I deserved better. And after a while I started to realise just how right he really was, but it wasn’t until I met a girl named Mia Elizabeth Jones, that I finally started to believe it.”

If I thought I was crying beforehand, then right now I was absolutely weeping – the fact that I had to press my palm against my mouth to stop a sob a sign of how badly I let myself go in front of him.

“Maybe I don’t deserve you,” Storm murmured, brushing away my relentless tears and watching me without judgment, eyes completely dry but the emotions that raged on behind his gaze, enough to let me know that his own storm (literally) went on inside him. “Because I know for a fact that you deserve better than me. But I want you to know that no matter what you say, or do, or how you act; I won’t ever leave you – I don’t think I can.”

I sniffed and covered my nose and mouth with both my hands, eyes half closed as I tried and failed to pull myself together as I still sat atop him, his arms encircling my waist to pull me closer. “You’re an asshole,” I hiccupped, rubbing my tears and not at all meaning what I said, the smile that tugged at his lips letting me know that he knew it too, “But I… I think I-” love you, I would’ve said had a soft hiccup from crying so much not stopped me.

Storm only grinned the widest grin I’d ever seen, as if he knew what I almost let slip, but decided not to say anything as he pulled my hands away from my face and cupped my cheeks like the tears didn’t bother him at all. “I can’t promise you that I won’t hurt you, Mia, and if I’m honest – and if you’re honest to yourself – I probably will hurt you at some point,” he muttered quietly, kissing both cheeks softly, “But I want you to know that you’ll probably end up hurting me a lot more than I could ever think or wish to hurt you and-”

And I kissed him, again, because he was babbling and stubborn and stupid and so damn adorable and perfect that I couldn’t not kiss him. I didn’t know how else I could’ve told him how much I truly adored him, couldn’t put a single feeling or thought into words so I decided instead to just… show him.

So I kissed him in a way I never had before, and even though it started off fast and messy and sloppy he didn’t at all seem to mind because, no, I didn’t know what love felt like, but whatever this was, was special and all I knew was that I absolutely adored him.

So I touched him in a way I never dared to before; slow and carefully as I mapped out his skin and the places where his bones and muscles stopped and started. And I let him pull me closer, and I let my fingers get lost in his hair. I let him slide his hands under my shirt – but for once it wasn’t in a lust fuelled way where he ripped it right off the second his palms touched the less innocent parts of me.

I melted at his every touch, at every place he kissed when his mouth wasn’t on mine, until eventually I found myself standing up and pulling him with me, kissing his lips and cheek and neck tenderly before I tugged him up the stairs and toward my bedroom.

He didn’t say a word as I closed the door behind him and sat on my bed. Didn’t make a single complaint as I pulled off his shirt and then sighed in content as he leaned forward to brush his mouth against mine, soft and gingerly at first, as if to test the waters. When I made no move to stop him from kissing me, he leaned me backwards carefully until I was lying on my back and he was hovering on top, our fingers intertwined as he brushed his lips against mine again, slow and gently like he had all the time in the world.

I let him slide off my shirt and helped him out of his pants, and when we were both in our undergarments and panting for breath, he stopped and leaned up until we were nose to nose and eye to eye, lips only a breath away.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, so quietly I wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close to me – as if he didn’t want to break the blissful bubble between us but felt the need to ask.

All I did was smile and nod softly before we were kissing again, more passionately and a lot more different than only a moment ago, as it quickly turned into the heated kiss we had shared in the kitchen all over again. Only this time he didn’t stop due to his fear of going too far, and I didn’t stop due to my fear of him leaving me or losing It to someone I supposedly didn’t love enough.

Because, God, of course I loved him. Maybe I always did and always will and as his fingers glided and danced across my neck and naked waist and bare thighs, all I could think of was how it was the first time in a while where I felt so loved and wanted and whole again – the first time ever where I didn’t fear for the future and the what-if questions.

And I let him touch me and I let him guide me and for the millionth time ever I let myself get lost in the simple ecstasy that was Storm Riviera.

Perhaps I did just love and adore the idea of him, but right then and there all I cared about was how perfect he was and how lovely he treated me and the only thing that mattered was him, him, him.

Him-

he Storm.

Was-

is

and always will be perfect to me; whether he knew it or not.