SARAH’S POV
I’d longed to taste his lips, and now I seized the opportunity. Our mouths met, and I savored every hint of sweetness. My tongue explored the depths of his, reveling in the moisture and warmth. Morals fled my mind; all I craved was the intimacy with the man I loved.
As I pressed against him, my hair escaped the bed’s gentle crush. He gathered the stray strands, his fingers grazing my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand tightened, pulling me back, breaking our kiss. I gasped, disappointed, the sudden separation leaving me wanting.
His piercing gaze met mine, flashing with disapproval. He pulled my hand off his neck and slapped it away, his face scrunched up in disgust.
Despite his disapproval of our intimacy, I gripped his shirt, not allowing him to leave. “Sarah, let go.” His voice was stern and commanding. Hiccups tore through my throat as I strengthened my grip on his shirt. “No… I won’t.” I shook my head in defiance. My eyelids were slowly drooping, but I forced them open.
He tried to forcefully unclasp my hand from his shirt; it became a battle of wills, our fingers intertwined with neither of us willing to yield.
“Sarah…” he called, his voice echoing with anger. In a swift motion, he ripped my hand off him and dashed out the door. I lifted my heavy body off the bed to run after him, but my weight crushed me back down. My vision blurred, and I struggled to stay awake.
I shook my head vigorously, attempting to clear my vision, but it was futile. However, I shot out of bed and stumbled from the crumpled bedsheet.
My chest collided with the marble floor, and I whined in pain, my eyes welling up.
Shit!
I slurred, my words tumbling out in a drunken haze, my voice echoing off the walls.
My world is falling apart! Why did he see that diary? That ruined everything!
Now he probably detests me! Stupid! Stupid! I berated myself inwardly, moaning with a heavy heart. I sprang up from the floor, almost tripping over again, but I successfully caught myself before I fell.
I wiped the tears from my face and sat on the bed, recalling how disgusted he was by me. Why? Why would he dislike me just because he read my feelings in my diary? Huh? That was my first kiss; it was supposed to be a wonderful moment I’d always anticipated, but it turned out to be a total heartbreak and rejection.
I huddled up on my bed, my knees clasped tightly to my chest as I muffled under my own embrace until I fell asleep.
____
My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the blinding lights of my room. I must have forgotten to switch it off last night. Memories started flooding through my brain; I recalled how drunk I was last night, mostly the first rejection and second…
Urg! The kiss… I massaged my temples, trying to calm my throbbing headache and also get those painful memories out of my head. At least I kissed him. That’s what I always wanted, right? He knows how I feel now; it’s much better that way. Win-win!
But deep down, I felt dejected. No matter how I tried to be optimistic, it turns out I was deceiving myself.
I sluggishly got out of bed, freshened up, and descended the mountain of stairs. Climbing down the stairs felt so enervating today. I usually don’t feel tired, but the painful clear rejection is a daunting aftermath of love-seeking endeavors.
I wondered where he is?
I scanned the living room in search of him but didn’t see a shadow anywhere. I turned back to ascend the flight of stairs to see if he was still asleep in his room but stopped dead in my tracks when I remembered we now have our issues.
My lips quirked as I morosely walked into the kitchen. I opened the fridge but found nothing but eggs, vegetables, and whatnots. Not a single piece of beef for me to drown in my sorrow… I hissed and shoved myself against the counter.
Then I heard low footsteps coming from the stairs. I dashed back to the living room and saw Mr. Clinton coming downstairs, his face grim and not even sparing me a glance.
“Good morning, Mr. Clinton.” My face lit up with a wry smile, my heart slowly racing as I fiddled with my fingers.
He finally looked at me, his eyes dark and piercing just like last night. I found myself avoiding his cold stare, biting my lips.
Shit! Why am I feeling this way all of a sudden? I am usually cheerful when I set my eyes on him every morning, but now I feel different.
His gaze snapped from me, his eyes still darkening. “Good morning.”
He walked past me and settled on the sofa, opening his laptop on the glass table.
I turned around, subtly admiring his features that always set my heart ablaze. A few strands of his hair fell across his face, his dark brown eyes glinting in the light of the screen. I just couldn’t stop looking at him; worst of all, my heart raced with every passing second. Damn! There’s no way I can shut my feelings out…
“Stop staring…” His soft voice jolted me from my daze. I cleared my throat, my eyes darting around the room, looking for a way to avoid the awkward moment.
“Come sit…” he said, tapping on the sofa as he relaxed against the headrest. I found myself unable to stop staring; my lingering gaze wandered all over him again, his command turning into insignificance.
“I told you to stop staring, Sarah!” he snapped, his jaw clenched.
“S… sorry…” I stuttered and quickly strode to the sofa. I sat at the extreme end of the sofa, not wanting to anger him more because if I came any closer, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
“Come closer…” he said without looking at me.
Wait a minute, what the heck does he want to do? I remained rooted to the spot, trying to figure out the reason why he wanted me to come closer.
“Sa…” He let out an exasperated sigh, massaging his temples. “Sarah, about yesterday, I’ll make things clear after we are done speaking to your father.”
“What, you want to tell Father?” My eyes widened as my breath caught in my throat.
He wouldn’t do that right?
He hissed, ignoring my question. He grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. I gasped, my gaze fixed on him, taken aback by the rough pull. He immediately let go of my arm and turned on the video call.
“Hello, baby doll, and my good friend…” my father’s boisterous voice called my attention toward the screen.
I forced a smile, still stealing glances at him. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was so tense. His face was scrunched up, earnestly looking anywhere else but at me.
“Are the two of you not happy to see me?”
My father’s voice sounded again. The both of us immediately looked back at the screen, putting up fake smiles so he wouldn’t suspect a thing.
“How have you been, William?” Mr. Clinton kickstarted the conversation, ignoring my father’s earlier question.
“Been good…. You look upset; is Sarah giving you problems?” My Father asked, his eyes darting between the both of us.
I snorted; that wasn’t far from the truth. If only he knew the shock I made him go through yesterday with my unexpected confession that left him reeling.
“Sarah!” My father yelled, giving me a stern look. “What did you do?”
I burst into a fit of laughter, my hand covering my mouth, unable to contain my amusement. My father’s voice sounded funny to me.
What I did?
Nothing. I just had feelings for him, that’s why he is upset.
I bit my lips, glancing at him before responding. “He is upset because I had my first kiss…”