Counting Raindrops

Chapter 20 of Counting Raindrops

A bubbling sensation slowly arose from my stomach like magma threatening to spew out of a volcano, but my bubbling feeling wasn't lethal. I didn't know why I felt so happy. Yet, here I was smiling at the tv as Jayce and I played Call of Duty.




I felt Jayce looking over at me, an odd expression on his face, "why are you smiling? I'm kicking your a*." I stuck my tongue out at him and returned my attention to the game so I could catch him off guard and kill him. He chuckled as he waited to respawn and then I was dead . . . What the-




As I turned to face Jayce I squinted as I saw him smirking. "You didn't destroy my respawn," was all he said, humor lacing his words, I scowled, but didn't say anything.




I should be used to losing by now, we had been playing for nearly two and a half hours and I haven't had one victory against Jayce. Did I suck at this game or was Jayce just inhumanly good? My nerves jolted a little when he threw his head back and laughed due to him getting his final kill. I sighed and tossed my controller a few inches away from me; giving up on trying to end my pathetic losing streak. I sighed and lay back onto the floor of my room and threw my hands above my head, "I give up," my mumbling voice wasn't supposed to be detected by him, but he noticed anyways.




The floor thumped a bit, but then I felt his hot breath on the side of my face and his voice quietly begging, "awe, come on, KitKat . . . I'll take it easy on you, please?" My head fell to the side and I opened my eyes to meet Jayce's crystal blue ones as they shined hopefully.




He was close . . . Really close, there were only inches separating us . . . Butterflies swam around in my gut as my mind scrambled from the overwhelming amount of thoughts that crammed into my brain.




"You said that the last twenty times," I muttered tiredly, it wasn't that I was extremely tired, but I was just drained of playing Call of Duty.




He just chuckled and reached over to brush a few loose strands away from my face; his palm grazing my cheek as he did so. He averted his eyes from his hand to meet my eyes, I swallowed trying my best to not make it noticeable. The way he looked at me made me feel slightly weightless and made me want to tell him how I felt about him, but the fear of him laughing kept my words hidden in the back of my mind. I couldn't do anything but act as if he didn't affect me, I couldn't enjoy the way he made me feel, I couldn't cuddle up to him as cheesy and mushy as that sounded, I couldn't hug him randomly, I couldn't . . . Kiss him . . .




A heavy weight of sadness tugged me down each time I saw him, I wanted to scream in frustration for not having the courage to admit my feelings, but maybe that was the best thing for me . . . I wasn't supposed to like him, I should hate him! . . . But I don't . . .




How the heck did Jayce do this to me? Make me want to hug him, but slap him in the face at the same time for making me feel the way I did. I was growing confused with myself with each second, it felt as if I were trapped in a little box and there was no possible way out. I could already feel the massive lump accumulating in my throat; threatening to choke me out of my misery. I kept trying to tell myself that I didn't like him, that I couldn't like him.




And the worst part?




Every time I told myself that, the more I seemed to like him.