I’m… Tears fill my eyes, and I tighten every muscle in my body, forcing myself to get my shit together.
But I’m lost. She’s holding me, and I’m lost. She’s not leaving. Not in six months. Not ever!
She stares at me, and I clench my fists behind me as our noses brush and I hover a moment from her lips. “Livvy, I…”
She can’t disappear. Time will stop. It has to. I can’t see her go. I…
My mouth rests open, the need to feel her overtaking me. I can’t…
I can’t…
I can’t stand it. I touch her mouth.
I layer my lips with hers—grazing, brushing, inhaling as she stops breathing and I just feel her and feel every inch of my body suddenly burn like a firework about to pop.
And then, all at once, we’re in the shit.
She releases my hands, and we both grab onto each other as she pushes me into the lockers again, our arms and hands wrapping around one another as her mouth sinks into mine.
I moan. Yes. Fuck, yes.
Our legs thread together, the heat between her thighs hitting my center, and she slips her hands under my skirt, grabbing my ass through my panties as we go at each other, kissing and nibbling and grinding.
“Liv…” I whimper.
I lick her tongue and groan, kissing her hard and fierce and closing my eyes, because everything is spinning, and my body is on a roller coaster. I’m fucking flying right now.
She lifts my leg, and I can’t stop. Grinding and panting as I slip my hand up her shirt, pulling down her strap, so I can get my hand inside her bra. She dives down to my neck, and I tip my head back, letting her have it all. I want her. I want to feel her and kiss her and touch her everywhere.
Our lips come back together, again and again, eating each other up, kissing frantically. I brush her nipple, and my clit throbs.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she whispers, shaken. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I know, all right? I know. I wasn’t afraid. I was…
Jealous. I’ve wanted this since we were freshmen, that first day we met, before the fighting started.
And when I knew she liked me, I was so happy, but…
Ashamed. Tears spike my eyelashes, even with as happy as I am right now. I was so ashamed.
She brings one hand up, grabs the back of my neck and takes my bottom lip between her teeth. I pause, savoring the fire blazing inside my body.
Our foreheads meet again. “We have to stop,” I murmur.
I fumble and squirm, trying to push her away, damn near wrecked because I’m aching for this. I don’t want to let her go.
But she doesn’t let me. “No,” she bites out in a whisper. Her mouth crashes down on mine again, and I can’t fight. I hold her head, soaking up how soft she is. How beautiful she smells and how hot her mouth is.
I barely notice as she lifts up my skirt and yanks down my panties just enough to bare my sex, but then she fiddles with her own clothes between us, and in a moment, she’s on me. Her pussy rubs against mine, and I pull away from her mouth to moan as she grinds on me, the friction of our skin agonizing.
Agonizing but perfect. It’s hot and wet and…
She grips my ass, her head dipped into my shoulder as I wrap my arms around her neck and meet her rhythm, both of us fucking against the lockers.
“Ugh!” I cry out as she goes at me.
I’m consumed. This is what it feels like. This is what right feels like. It was always wrong before. Kissing someone. Letting them touch me. I never had that burn low in my belly.
I was never hungry.
Until her.
I sink into her mouth again, kissing, sucking, tasting…
At least there’s this. I thought hating her was enough. If I couldn’t have this, at least I had her attention. Even if it was bad.
At least I could destroy what I was going to lose anyway in three months when we graduated, and I couldn’t look at her every day anymore.
But God, I do hate her. Her smile and her red lips. The way she smudges her dumb eyeliner, making her eyes look smoky and captivating, and her wild hair that always looks like it flew through the wind before she put it up in a ponytail.
Her olive skin, how her bracelets make music every time she moves, her chipped, black nail polish, and those stupid biker boots with all the buckles she wears that make her legs so hard not to look at.
The way she rolls her skirt up, and I can’t pay attention in calculus.
I hate it all. How every part of her looks like it has a taste.