The Virtual Affection | #Wattys2018

#19 It's Time We Had This Talk

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It's alright, Sarah. You got this. He's right across the lunch room.

Come on now, make a move.

Oh God, the whole jock squad is around him. Even Aaron is there. That bastard.

Nope. No. I don't got this.

After my abrupt confession last night, I had been petrified for his response but all I got was nothing. No reply at all!

I kept waiting for hours with bated breath. Did he have no questions? No doubts, no confrontations? Anything he'd like to say at all? He did believe me, didn't he? I would have rather he rebuked me than this silent treatment crap. It's driving me nuts.

I need answers. A part of me knows what it's going to be. I will completely understand if he despises me. Anyone in their right mind would.

Deep breath, Sarah, deep breath.

"Dave," I approach him, trying to look confident.

The commotion at their table momentarily ceases and all the boys turn their heads towards me in unison.

Dave's grin fades a little as his eyes fall on me but there's no burning hatred as I expected either. Just the calm and cold Dave Rodriguez signature look.

"Sarah," He says, his voice as indifferent as ever.

"Ooh, look who's here!"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't pukey again."

"Why do you always gotta talk to Dave, baby? I'm clearly a way better looker."

"Dude, don't mess with her. Dave might just punch your guts out."

I roll my eyes and try to ignore the slackers. Dave ignores his friends and gets up from his seat.

"Something you want to tell me?" He asks. I just can't make myself look him in the eye. I stare at his nose instead.

"Can I talk to you?" I gulp, "In private?"

"Okay, sure," he says.

His friends hoot,"Go get her, tiger!"

He leads me out of the lunchroom into the empty hall. The silence is comforting.

"Dave, I," I begin, forcing myself to look him in the eyes, "I honestly don't know what to say. You already know everything."

He doesn't say anything.

I take a deep breath and continue, "I just...I'm just so sor – "

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have really pretty eyes?"

I'm taken aback, " – Uh, what?"

"Your eyes," he says, his gaze piercing into mine, "They're really pretty."

"Um, thanks..."

He takes a step closer towards me. I inch back, and feel my back touching the lockers.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" He asks quietly. He is so close that it hurts my neck to keep looking up at him.

"I am not afraid of you," I reply, my voice shaky, "I'm just afraid of los –"

My words remain in my mouth as I suddenly feel his hands grasp the back of my neck and pin me up against the locker. His lips press down upon mine violently. For a moment, I'm transfixed, frozen in shock. But when all the senses come back, they come back in one giant surge and suddenly it's too much to take in – both physically and mentally. His lips push against mine steadily and fiercely, with no gentleness or caress, but only with hot rough passion. Fire courses through my veins. I've never felt something so vivid and intense. His lips taste of apple juice – and angry fervour. His hands stroke the side of my face and I slowly slide my hands up his chest. I clutch his shirt and move my lips along with his, trying to soak in every meticulous detail of this moment.

I lightly push him back to catch my breath. My breathing is hot and awkward against his skin and I give out a little nervous laugh, "Gosh, Dave, what was that?"

His face is inches from mine and I can see every freckle on his face. I feel his hot breath against my cheek and his heart beating underneath his shirt.

"Just a warm up," he smiles lightly, moving his lips over my cheek.

I don't get it. After lying to him all this time, how can he forgive me? Doesn't he have a single question for me? Has he honestly forgiven me? How is that even possible?

"Dave, listen," I breathe as he manoeuvres his lips against mine, "I feel so bad for what I've done. I'm really very sorry."

"Don't be. She won't know."

'She'? Caroline?

"Who's she?" I breathe against his lips.

"My girlfriend."

"Wait, what?" My voice is muffled by his lips. I try to pull back.

"That doesn't matter, Sarah," he says, brushing his lips against mine. I draw my lips away and push him back.

"I thought you said you broke up with Stacey!"

"Stacey?" he asks in a puzzled voice, clearly annoyed that I had pushed him back, "Why would I date Stacey? I meant Heather. And no, I did not break up with her."

"Who's Heather?"

"Heather Samuels? Drama club president?"

"But –" I stutter, sure that he's making a mistake somewhere, "But you told me you were seeing Stacey!"

His brows furrow together in confusion, "When?"

"When we were texting!"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Sarah," he says slowly, as if explaining rocket science to a ten year old, "I don't want to make you sound like a nutcase, but we," he pauses and looks at me dubiously, "never texted."