part of a story

The sheets were mismatched. Two different flower patterns, one had poppies with soft green stems that reminded her of fields and the other royal blue fleur de lis that reminded her of funeral homes. A sardonic grin played at the corners of her mouth as she turned to face him. He wasn’t looking at her. His fingers were splayed across the bed, his jagged nails catching in the sheets and wrinkling them. Liz quelled the urge to straighten it. She didn’t want to ruin this night by revealing her inner crazy. Instead, she dredged up what she considered a dewy, mushy expression in her eyes just as he turned.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Anxiety like she hadn’t felt earlier curled in her stomach. Maybe he didn’t have the same idea she did about this night.
“Like what?” she responded after a moment. She wished he would stop watching her so intently with those dark brown eyes of his.
“Like you’ve got this doe-eyed expression. It’s freaking me out.” She couldn’t help but smile. This was a side of him she was comfortable with. His fear of intimacy had been a constant nuisance.
“Doe-eyed? How dare you accuse me of looking like that?” His lips curved sensually and she almost flung herself at him but refrained. She told herself it was because she was old fashioned and preferred the guy to make the first move, but really, she was scared of being rejected. A moment passed in silence and she watched him. His eyes wondered everywhere but in her direction. Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“What are you thinking about?” He didn’t answer immediately and she could tell he was trying to decide whether to tell her the truth or not.
“Nothing. What are you thinking about?”
“Just trying to read you.”
“Oh. Can you?”
“Somewhat.” Gathering her courage, she took a step toward him and looked hard into his eyes. He stared back at her, just as intense. They were reading each other, measuring the desire reflecting out of their souls, saying I want you with just their eyes. Then, Gabriel leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t like in the romance novels she had scattered around the house. She didn’t lose her senses. In fact she was completely aware of everything around her. She could hear the dogs in the living room padding slightly over the floor, looking for food dropped from dinner. She could still smell the macaroni and cheese she burnt. But most prominent, she could feel the burning heat in his hands at her waist. They were so warm in contrast to the rest of her body. Goosebumps popped up all over her bare arms and she leaned into him. He responded to her by enclosing her in his arms and deepening the kiss. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the soft curve of his lips moving over hers and the smell of him. She loved the way he smelled. The unique cologne that she’d never smelled on anyone else. Her heart pounded, falling into him. Then, without warning, he pulled back, letting go of her completely. Her balance wavered and she stepped back reluctantly.
“I think I should go.” He said, his eyes full of trepidation. Desperation flitted through her along with a cold sense of rejection. She was almost there and he was retreating.
“Why?” she asked, louder than she meant to.
“Because we’re friends. This is not what friends do.” She knew he was right but still she reached out to him and tried to pull him back. He came close to her and kissed her again, softer. There was no burning this time. It was bittersweet. She could taste his resolve with the hint of raspberry orbit gum. He moved away again, this time going all the way to the door. She followed him out and locked the gate behind him with the distinct sense that she had come so close, had almost reached the edge, but was yanked back by fate.