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Sometimes I think I’ll start screaming if he doesn’t touch me. I think of all the air between us like a counter overcrowded with bright yellow lemon peels. I can only imagine the citric burning at my throat, the sting of venom sliding down. A mouthful of bitterness. Of something like blood. My top lip, curled, clenching in time with my lungs as his own wait beneath the curve of my neck. His tongue heavy with tinges of regret and guilt and lust. The blond’s emotions seeping into my ribcage from his mere presence at my back.
I want for the inhuman slick of his palm against my hip, cooling my overheated skin like an ice bath. The pads of his fingers dipping below the relaxed waistband of my jeans– the anticipation biting at my beating heart. Each inch he covers placated by the harsh edge of a silver ring. A second following in its wake.
A tiny girl dressed all in white. Hands like a doll’s, clasped in his large ones.
I shake myself from the malevolent daydream like a dog brought in from a storm. My eyes start to refocus on the worn copy of some state-required novella laid out before me. The chipped edge of the desk becomes concrete beneath my palm.
But the intense gaze aimed into the curve of my spine is hard to ignore.
A quick glance over my bundled shoulder sticks me to my seat. Eyes like glass look directly into the crease of my own. Black as asphalt after a downfall in Forks, the rain swirling around a clogged gutter. I can almost feel the ancient hunger seeping into Jasper’s irises like an ink well. I feel like prey. A rabbit in the mouth of a rabid dog. The clench of his stone hands around the poster of the already small chair speaks for the carnivore in him.
I was afraid the entirety of homeroom English, nor Edward, could keep him from plunging his teeth into the flushed flesh at my collarbone. And in some fevered state my heart whispers, ‘you’d throw yourself at him– as long as he’d hold you while he drained you dry’.
My lids falter, stuttering like a shutter in a hurricane, quickly trying to lose eye contact with him, only to see his chest fail to rise. His throat, blanketed by a restricting linen collar, refuses to inhale again.
My brain drifts only slightly to the thought of the scarred skin underneath. Hundreds of sets of razorblade smiles gunning for mouthfuls of him. The bands of immortal skin suturing itself over and over, self ‘healing’ instantly.
I wondered what it felt like under human fingertips… what it tasted like.
Again, booted off of a train I hadn’t thought I had boarded. This time a pale hand, littered in familiar wounds, covered the front of my novel. The silver rings were missing from his fingers. I could easily make out the gleam of pressed opal buttons climbing up his wrist. From under my lashes, I followed the line up– slower than he wished.
“Darlin’, If you don’t stop suffocating this tiny box of a classroom with all that longing, Imma’ have to drop you at my brother’s feet myself.”
My eyes snapped to his in the middle of his hushed complaint. His brows folded intensely over his soft glare. The blond’s canines were hidden well beneath his upper lip– looking both angered and unsettled. As if I had personally uprooted his ass from his seat. I hadn’t even considered his ability to read the emotional heat I was giving off.
If he had a need to breathe– he would’ve been spread-eagle on the linoleum by now. Every other word in his speech punctuated with a sharp exhale through the nose.
My accidental silence only led him to more truthful conclusions.
His teeth uncovered themselves through an almost snarl. “Or maybe…,” he took a true inhale for the first time, “I’ll take you myself. Where should I start, hmm? Against the lockers behind Molina’s office or maybe right here on this shitty excuse for a desk, how does that sound sugar?”
A feral chuckle bubbled up from his chest. My mouth went dry trying to process every word he drew out. Each syllable more surprising than the last.
“I… uh… Jasper… what’s gotten…” gulp, “into you?”. My vocal cords wavered with an unfurling desire I hadn’t even heard in my dreams. I could almost feel the muscles in my abdomen clenching, fire pooling in my gut. And in my Levi’s.
The students in front of us sat unawares. Ears stuffed with greying headphones, minds and hands focused on finishing whatever homework we’d been assigned. The bell, only minutes from blaring. The comfortable silence seemed to be compressing the room, embracing both his low drawl and my strained response.
Locs of golden curls fell into his darkened line of sight as he bent down beside my pained face. The stark height difference apparent in his almost crouch.
His ragged breath hits my face. “You know I can smell your arousal, right Isabella? It hangs in the air like a flag of surrender.” His lips had sunk even closer to mine. “And I’d like to know the source of it.” I thought I had heard a growl over the last phrase. Something primal– which only caused the flame to light into an inferno.
With a last inhale, his perfect marble face angled away from me entirely. Leather cowboy boots carried him out of the door just as the bell rang.
The hunger polluting his tall form– I was sure– mirrored mine. The confusion started to take a front seat as the other students shuffled out.
He had never even touched me.