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Post by jude whitby on Feb 3, 2009 10:24:50 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 3, 2009 14:17:23 GMT -5
"Nice?" Cynthia thought, that was a funny way to express it. Her head was close to exploding from trying to figure him out, but every other part of her was stuffed with joy and pleasure and hope and relief. Maybe sometimes, thinking was overrated. However, if she was to be honest, she wouldn't have described the situation as 'nice'. Not that she would dare to be honest with Jude, not on that point, the truth would surely freak him out. The warm tone had surprised her, but in a good way, of course. She was starting to wonder though, if he maybe was slightly tipsy already.
She placed his drink in front of him and shifted so that she was facing him, casually leaning one elbow on the bar. "Cheers" She smiled. Cheers. If she'd met him on a party, she would probably be in his lap placing drunk kisses on his neck by now. Not that she'd mind that scenario either, the whole 'take it slow before you do anything you'll regret'-idea had always been bullshit to Cynthia but... Well these painful, completely thrilling feelings could very likely be worth much more than those missed couple of hours of drunk physical affection.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 3, 2009 15:26:58 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 3, 2009 15:45:56 GMT -5
"Yeah" Cynthia answered. She wasn't some of those courageous people breaking free from her family and moving into the city. One of the reasons was that she couldn't, her family was quite a big deal to her, and another was that there wasn't really any place that appealed her more. Why move to some boring town in Wales just to get away? "Well my parents live right outside town, I grew up there, that counts" she shrugged.
She hadn't thought that he'd been one for small-talking, but that was just good for her anyway, it would be kinda awkward otherwise, sitting there quiet while trying to come up with something sensible to entertain him with. And it wasn't really the same thing, it wasn't like those dry chats with her... friends, on the tea parties her mother had arranged. "How about you?" Cynthia asked him. She wasn't quite sure of how long she'd manage just sitting there, talking about their history. She wouldn't at all if this attractive boy's mind hadn't appealed her at least as much as his body did.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 4, 2009 15:23:21 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 4, 2009 15:58:27 GMT -5
"That's good" She thought, that he preferred it in London, because it had never really occurred to her to go to Manchester, and it would have been such a shame, never meeting him. But "Oh, I see" was what she said. It was all kind of overwhelming, when he was quiet and she got to think about it. London, closed pub, late night chit chat with the perfect boy, from Manchester. She still didn't grasp it though, she was far too swallowed up by him. It was hard to focus her thoughts on something else.
"Don't worry" She smiled as he started smoking again. It was so... So beautiful in a way, the smoke caressing his lips. Cynthia couldn't really come up with anything else to say. Well yeah, 'Are you enjoying yourself? Would you rather go home? Would you like me to follow you? Would your arm still be around me when I woke up? Do I matter, do you like me Jude, do you like me?' But those questions were of course out of question, even though she used everyone of them rather often, except from the last one, then. "You seemed to have had a bad day" Cynthia stated questioningly instead, remembering the look of him as he had entered almost an hour ago.
The drink was getting to her, and she allowed herself to relax a little, starting to trace her fingers over the bar. It felt better now, she didn't worry that much about herself any more, her hair wasn't something that made her ready to blush, and that of course made her feel quite a bit more secure. Cynthia couldn't help it, justifying it with that she had to be reminded, as if she hadn't his skin perfectly memorized, she let her hand brush against his. It was nothing, but it was huge, to her. Reminding her of that nervous bliss of a first kiss. Nervous, yes very. But what was the worst thing that could happen? He'd pull his hand back. Well that would still hurt like hell.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 4, 2009 16:26:33 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 5, 2009 12:04:27 GMT -5
Musician, of course! "I mean, look at him", Cynthia thought, she should've known, she could have asked him about music, that would've interested him. Not that she'd have much to say about it, bitterly thinking about the guitar at her parents house. She was fourteen when they'd bought it for her as a Christmas present, and the winter break had ended with her throwing it against the wall. It had never been quite encouraging, hearing remarks on every song she wanted to play, instead getting the proper chords shoved in her face. And the steel strings made her fingers hurt. So after barely a couple of weeks, she hated the thing, and it wasn't anything she even considered bringing with her when she moved into her own flat. "Oh, well that sucks" Cynthia meant it, but she couldn't help but smiling too, a part of her dared to believe that she might have something to do with his change of mood. He smiled too, Oh was there anything he could do that would make him just a little less intoxicating?
She doubted that. He touched her. Cynthia winced, reluctantly, and immediately regretted it. He couldn't have done it by mistake, his hand just wouldn't be that close to hers any more if it would have been all that unpleasant when she'd touched his hand. It would have lasted longer, at least a quarter of a second more if it her hand hadn't decided to go all spastic. She quickly turned her gaze away from him, she wasn't going to blush now, oh no, no way. But she couldn't just sit there and stare on her hand -even though she wished her stare could burn a hole in it, punish it- she... Well the last thing she wanted was to make Jude believe he'd done something wrong, get annoyed and just leave. So she let a faint smile spread on her lips and placed four fingers on the back of his hand, just lightly, it would be easy to just pull away and pretend as if it never happened, but she let them linger. It would be useless anyway, even trying to take her hand off of his with only willpower, seeing she had no will to do so.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 7, 2009 7:02:08 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 7, 2009 8:07:30 GMT -5
Cynthia was overjoyed. But she felt awkward, in a strange way, not like when she'd said something stupid before realizing what it sounded like and wanted to be swallowed by the ground, but in tingling sort of way. She looked down, away from Jude, not quite having the strength to meet his gorgeous blue eyes. "Lousy blood circulation" Cynthia smiled, although that was hard to believe seeing the blood was furiously pumping up to her cheeks, she was blushing. Her other hand was awkwardly twirling a lock of her hair, when was the last time she'd felt this insecure? She couldn't recall on any moment of her life like this. Was she falling in love with a stranger?
What now? What should she say, what could she say? She couldn't tell him how much he meant to her, she couldn't tell him about those crazy thoughts he'd been placing in her mind since he'd entered the pub. She couldn't tell him that he was a dream, that he was beautiful and perfect and everything she'd ever wanted, that was not anything a sensible person would tell someone she just met. Not that she was feeling sensible at all, but she'd like to keep her insanity away from his knowledge for as long as possible. He obviously liked her, but she was convinced that she still was highly capable of scaring him away.
She looked up at him once she was certain of that her face had gotten its normal tone back. What should she say? She couldn't just go on with the small-talking in the same way as before, his acceptance had changed the situation to her so much. "Um," She started tremblingly, "Thanks for warming me". What a stupid thing to say. But that was the closest to the truth she could bring herself to speaking, thanks for touching me, thanks for liking me. Yeah, those would be far more stupid.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 7, 2009 10:17:57 GMT -5
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 7, 2009 11:11:53 GMT -5
She couldn't find air, she was suffocating and it hurt her, when he took his hand off of hers. But luckily, his hand was on her again before she choked. Against her cheek, so intoxicating, she wasn't tired, but she felt peaceful enough to fall asleep right there and then. When she thought about it, wouldn't that be the best possible way to die in, anyway? Everything was perfect. Well until he spoke. "Damn" she groaned, how embarrassing, Cynthia didn't blush, and people weren't supposed to see her blush.
But his eyes were even more captivating than before, she couldn't even think about herself. Just relax and smile. They were so soft and inviting and warm and kind, sincere. Something serious, he wasn't just trying to hook up with her, she wouldn't be just some girl he met at some pub some night. She barely dared to believe that, but she could not, did not want to deny it, it was... Different, and wonderful. Cynthia lifted her hand as well and put it on his, well more like wrapped her fingers around his hand. She could stay like that forever, trying to figure every single emotion in his eyes out.
Seconds later, what felt like ages for her, she looked down to keep herself from starting to blush again. Cynthia brought his hand down from her face, she felt like she was overheating, and folded her fingers with his instead. She looked up at him again, questioningly. He'd approve, wouldn't he? And she felt stupid, not knowing what to say.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 7, 2009 11:54:04 GMT -5
[/i]"It won't hurt." Like he would ever with intention hurt her, but then again, how could she know he wouldn't? Not that he would. He just wanted to kiss her, not on her lips but on her cheek. Her beautiful cheek. Though the lips wouldn't hurt either. He had to control himself, he had to make sure he didn't scare her away. Still at this point he felt sure that she had to be feeling something, that she wouldn't mind. [/ul][/size]
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Post by cynthia montague on Feb 7, 2009 12:49:23 GMT -5
"Anything" Cynthia instantly promised him. Anything, everything, hurting or not, anything he wanted. She hadn't meant to say it, she wasn't planning on letting him know what she knew, that she was his, so pathetic and ridiculous. But she couldn't help it, she wasn't capable of choosing her words like that any more, she couldn't keep her head cool. She couldn't focus on anything else than Jude, his words and his eyes and lips and the feel of his skin, his perfect, warm hand against hers.
It was odd to her that he asked for permission. Boys didn't do that, no one had since fourth year, and well, Cynthia was rarely one to disagree. Still this man who she'd allow to drain her blood if that would please him did. He asked her if he could try something. That kind of question would have made her laugh, coming from anyone's lips, nevertheless Jude's, but she was too filled with joy and anticipation to even think about it as funny. And she doubted that she could laugh at something that this boy was serious about.
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Post by jude whitby on Feb 7, 2009 13:12:56 GMT -5
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