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When he’s settled, he gives me an assuring smile, but one that is still tight-lipped, indicating the platonic arrangement of his action.
We’re just going to talk;I repeat in my head over and over again.
To continue in the low pitch, we have been talking in, though, he must scoot a little closer.
I take that action for him, to spare him the awkwardness of closing the distance between himself and his boss.
“So, what was it that you were saying?” I smile expectantly. I want to understand his ideology, how he thinks and why he would ever find my snores cute.
“Yeah, so…I guess it’s just me, though, but I find perfection in things people would otherwise term as flaws. I have no idea why I’m just wired like that.” He says blandly.
It's in a way that you can tell he's being honest about it. There's no persuasion on his face, nor the need for validation from me.
“Yeah, you’re weird,” I chuckle, assuming a position that makes me better face him. I’ll be lying if I said I didn’t like the fact that he finds my snoring cute.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he scoffs. “Think about it, though.” He brings the topic up again and opens the floor for discussion. “If everything was perfect, then it would be boring. Perfect means there’s a certain criterion to be met. If everyone did that, then…” He struggles with the last set of words, but I help him out.
“There’d be no uniqueness.” I smile upon realization of the angle he’s coming from. “And we fall in love with the uniqueness of people. Not their generic traits.”
He nods, curly strands of his hair falling in front of his eyes, blocking them momentarily.
I like looking into Jordan’s eyes when talking with him. There’s the slight reason of me wanting to assert my dominance, then there’s the one where I just like getting lost within them.
They remind me of a black hole, black and empty, but hold a lot of matter. In this case, the matter inside his eyes are his memories, the parts of him that make up his consciousness. I feel like I’m communicating deeper with him when I look into his eyes.
That’s why I want to rid his face of the strands of hair that fall and cover his eyes, even when he doesn’t.
The room is dimly lit, but the dimness just makes his eyes appear darker.
All the thought about wanting to see his eyes translate into action and before I can stop it, I find myself reaching for his face to brush the rogue strand off.
I miss his hair entirely.
My fingers brush something soft. It’s not his face, but a part of his face. I can’t seem to place it, until milliseconds later, when my vision adjusts to seeing my fingers on his lips.
Now, I’m entranced.
This is the moment when I’m supposed to retract and move as far away as possible.
I could do that or play it off and act completely unaffected by his succulent lips, continuing to do what I initially wanted to.
I could just stop and let a little awkwardness linger.
But I don’t do any of these things.
Instead, I move closer. Some sort of forceful yearning pulls me into him, till we’re just inches apart.
Please, Jordan,I silently beg. Of course, he doesn’t hear me.
It’s only when I say it repeatedly without any reaction from him, that I realize that the pleas have been internal all this while.
He doesn’t move either, but now, on the bright side, I get to stare into those beautiful carbon black pupils and attempt to see how far inside they go.
Bad idea.
With each second that passes, my face moves closer and closer to his, until our lips are slightly touching. Nothing much, but enough to nearly give me a panic attack, while simultaneously wetting my panties.
Jordan does the needful for me and captures my lips with his.
