Unexpected

Gabby the Hot Mess

After shutting the door behind us, he holds my wrists up in between us and gives them a shake. "I understand you, then I don't. I think I've figured it out, then you throw me for another loop. It's so fucking irritating, but..."

He loosens his hold on my wrists, now roughly combing one hand through his brown curls.

"I know you like me and I know that you know. Stop playing games, just tell me. Tell me." He urges, growing more desperate. His eyes hold mine, studying me intently and waiting for a response.

Uneasy from his gaze, I glance behind him and notice the clock ticking towards the first bell of the day. I begin to feel genuine anxiety settle in my chest for the test that we need to be seated for soon.

He places his hands at the base of my neck, thumbs reaching my cheeks that were just beginning to cool down.

"Look at me. Tell me. Tell me it's true." He pleads again, successfully drawing my attention back to him. I freeze at the close contact and think only of his intent gaze and the hands securely holding the back of my neck.

He's close enough now that his warm breath fans across my face, impossibly hot again from our current predicament. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come. The lack of control over my own voice is embarrassing, and not something I've ever been known for.

"If you're not going to come out and tell me... at least don't deny it," He breathes, inching his face even closer to mine. "It's driving me crazy, knowing then not knowing. The back and forth." I stare up at him with wide eyes, feeling helpless to the events unfolding before me.

"If you don't like me, not even a little bit, then tell me to stop." He whispers now, just barely grazing his lips against my own. I squeeze my eyes shut, hating myself for the way my head is spinning and the heaviness of my feet to the floor.

Second by second, he slowly presses his lips to mine, continuing with more certainty when I don't do anything to stop him. He begins moving his lips and to my own dismay, I do the same. He's gentle, but as we progress the kiss becomes more intense and I have to pull away, feeling overwhelmed.

We stare at each other, both too stunned to say anything right away. He moves to lean in again and I step back, needing time to process. This was part of the plan, but now that it's happened I feel guilty and confused. It wasn't supposed to be like this, with him in control and me completely dumbfounded.

"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching for me.

"You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be fine." I move away again, finally finding the words I needed. "I have my reservations about you. You're not a good guy Austin. You can't expect me to trust you just because you want me to." I explain, finding a place of honesty that was hidden from me before now, before Austin kissed me. Everyone was right to be wary of this, but I've been too hell bent on personifying karma that I've failed to recognize that I have my own stakes in this.

That's what they must see, Zach and Catrina, to make them so against it all. It took Austin kissing me, me kissing him back, and liking it, to realize what must be so blindingly obvious to others. I'm not just an unbiased bystander of Austin's regretful attractiveness. I like him, in a fucked up kind of way. I like him enough to come up with some elaborate scheme just to have an excuse to play into this.

I think about him, plan involved or not, far too often to be neutral to all this. The heat I feel in our arguments is too intense and the solace I get from our breakout moments of vulnerability is too sweet.