You Inspire Me (Sana &...)

ONESHOT TWICE

autor: hi, that girl described - Sana ... another girl of your choice.

You inspire me.

Everything about you makes me want to create…to work…to explode with the energy that you send surging through my veins. You make me want to do things I'm not sure I'm really capable of doing.

With a grace that I both envy and adore, you move toward me across the not-so-busy lanes of traffic that separate us, and I smile at you. I can't do anything but smile at you…and you return it in that beautiful way of yours, flashing white teeth at me as you finally reach me.

Your eyes dance over me briefly as I tuck my cell phone carefully away in my pocket, the conversation I was just having with another friend completely forgotten.

"I like it, in person—the pictures didn't do it justice," you say, looking at my hair. I can feel the blush burning my cheeks and I nod at you, still grinning that ridiculous grin.

"Uh, yeah...thanks I guess. You were the only one that didn't like it in the pictures," I tell you, wondering if you know how you crushed me when you told me how you felt about my new hair color weeks before.

Your eyes flash with something I can't identify, and you step toward me with your arms stretched out.

"C'mere," you say, pulling me into a hug.

For you, it's the type of hug that comes from best friends not seeing each other for many months…the type of hug that comes from great distance being placed between two people who care a great deal for one another. For me, it's what I look forward to most about seeing you.

To be close to you, physically…kills me. It kills me slowly, as if every molecule of your skin that touches me would dissolve me away slowly but surely—flesh-eating hugs. Every time I hug you I live a little, I die a little…and I want you more. Images flash through my head, movies of us in a candle-lit bedroom making love to one another for hours on end. Flashes of skin and little moans escaping here and there, my hands busily exploring you, claiming you, loving you…

Memories of times that have never happened with you…that will never happen. You don't feel that way about me, not the same way I feel for you anyway. And you aren't focusing every fiber of your being right this moment on memorizing the feel of my body against yours; but that's what I'm doing. I'm committing to memory everything from the sides of our faces pressed against each other, to the sensation of your s pressed firmly to mine, to the way that my arms wrap almost completely around your body. You have your slender arms curled around my shoulders, my neck…hugging me like you hug your boyfriend, hugging me as if you still love me the way that I still love you.

We always separate so slowly, almost as if we don't really want to be apart at all…but would rather stay body-to-body all day together. I know that is the truth in my case, and always is. You look at me the same way you always do immediately after these hugs, with a combination of apology for making me love you so much and your own brand of love for me.

You confuse the hell out of me.

Walking side by side into the store, we walk too close together just like we always have. You are always this way with me: close enough to feel my presence but never close enough in any way to let me win you back. Every time that your hand or shoulder brushes me I am reminded of how I missed my chance with you. Maybe that's what you're trying to accomplish by always initiating some kind of physical contact with me. Remind me of what I threw away.

"I missed you," you tell me, your voice sweet as always. I let my gaze swing your way, looking upon you as I always want to be looking and smiling at you. My stomach is in my throat.

"I missed you too…It's been too long since I've seen you," I say. That's all I can manage, as your smile is turned upon me and you have those beautiful eyes focused on mine.

As always I can only keep your gaze for a moment before I have to look away. I know that you know how your eyes affect me.

"It has…seven months is just ridiculous. You should come visit me more often," you say.

I nod and say nothing, following you down the aisle you've led me to. I should visit you more…I know that. But we both know why I don't. Every time I go to your house, and stay there with you alone for a weekend, I can think of nothing but what it may be like to just grab you and kiss you. We both know.

You understand just as well as I do that my time spent with you at your home is torture for me. I can handle you only in short bursts; one-day, spur-of-the-moment visits like this one that end with me thinking about you non-stop for at least a week afterward. These visits always remind me of how in love with you I am. There's no denying that—we both know it's true.

The most innocent-seeming situations always get me thinking the worst things…because the time we spend together is spent sitting on your bed in your hotel room, playing Guitar Hero with our friends surrounding us, the smell of pizza and rum permeating the room but my only thoughts are how easy it would be to lean over and kiss you right at that moment. You know how it makes me feel when you plop down on the bed beside me, on your stomach as I lie on my back. These moments, you look over at me or rest your head on my arm and just stare, as if you are trying to pry my head open and figure out what I'm thinking.

I'm thinking of you. Always. The turmoil that crashes through me at your closeness hurts…your warmth makes me want to weep. But I say nothing, even when you ask what I'm thinking. I say nothing, just look at you with despair and sometimes just roll over and hug you. Other times I simply stare at the ceiling, trying to forget your eyes.

I'm not sure why I'm following you through this store right now, or what on earth it is we're looking for. You flip through CD's and movies, searching…but all I can see is how you've pulled me along on yet another meaningless errand. You always do this…call me when you get into town and have me run around with you, doing everything and nothing; and I just do it, watching you and speaking only when you ask me to. I know you sense it, how odd this is for me.

We run countless errands this day, ending the night at dinner with your mother and a friend of hers. I hate your mother. You know this.

You knew this when you asked me to go to dinner with you. But it was the only way for us to see each other all day, so naturally I accepted. Your new boyfriend is mentioned briefly at dinner, and I wrinkle my nose in distaste blatantly enough for your mother to notice—she laughs and comments on it.

Rather than admitting the true reason for my distaste, I simply throw out there the tried-and-true fact that you have awful taste in men. Which we both know that you do. You slap my shoulder playfully and I just laugh along with the rest of the table, because they know that I'm right. I catch your mother watching me for a long moment as everyone else eats, and I know that she's got me figured out.

She has thought that I was after you ever since before I actually was—so I don't take her personally most of the time. I do, however, jump in and defend you against her onslaught of subtle personal attacks. Nothing that you ever do is good enough for her, and though you don't believe it, you are far above and beyond what she thinks you are. If I had my way, no one would ever speak to you that way again.

After dinner is over, they leave in their car and you promise them that you'll meet them back at the hotel. Looking at me with those beautiful but exhausted eyes, you make my heart skip a beat or two.

"Will you give me a ride?" you ask.

I smile at you and laugh, nodding. To see you so obviously tired of your mother makes me happy, gives me hope that someday you will realize how wrong she is about you. Someday, maybe you will tell her how wrong she is. Maybe someday…

Back at the hotel, we're standing behind my car as you prepare to go back inside. I can't stay—I have work tomorrow. But we stand there, looking at each other…smiling almost shyly in spite of our closeness. You are my best friend, you make me feel, more than anyone else ever has, that it's okay to just be me. In fact, you prefer me that way. I wish I could explain to you how absolutely important you are to me.

You inspire me.

Tonight, instead of holding back like I always do, I wait for what feels like the right moment and I reach out to you. One of my hands lands on your cheek, cupping the side of your face and rubbing my thumb over your cheekbone. The other comes slowly up to the side of your long, gorgeous neck…and I step closer to you. Your black eyes are wide as you watch me, and I think that you have to know what I'm about to do.

I wait for you to stop me. I wait for you to say something, to back away, to remind me that you don't have feelings for me anymore.

But you are silent. You just look at me with those impossibly beautiful eyes, waiting…

The feel of your skin beneath my hands is intoxicating, and in my newfound boldness I lean in to you slowly and kiss you carefully on the lips. Just a touch, at first…our noses rub together and your lips are soft against mine, and I want to explode in this moment.

I let the touch linger, pulling my head away from you slightly to judge your reaction. Your eyes are closed, your lips slightly parted, and I just look at you for a long moment as you open your eyes slowly.

The moment our eyes meet, your hands are on me and you are pulling me so close, kissing me again—deeper this time, longer. Your lips move over mine and my hands move into your blonde hair, gripping you and holding you close to me, never letting you away.

Now your hands are on my face and the feeling of your thumbs caressing my cheeks brings tears to my closed eyes. I want you, love you, need you…a million things are careening through me; I want you to have them all.

When we finally separate, I look at you instantly. I have to see you. You are looking at me as well, watching a couple of tears stream down my cheeks. Pulling me closer to you, you lean up and kiss the tears away, your lips soft on my face, different from the intensity of the kiss we just shared a moment ago.

"There's so much I need to say to you…" I begin, my hands falling to your shoulders from their places wrapped firmly in your hair. You shake your head, silencing me with a kiss on my lips, and then looking at me intensely.

"You don't need to say anything…I know. I know," you whisper. There is nothing I need now, nothing else on earth I could want. I am right where I need to be.

My drive home is not nearly as sad as is normal for me after seeing you…and as I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the feeling of your lips on mine, I'm overcome with emotion.

Your ringtone blasts from my cell phone as it sits beside my bed, and I reach over quickly to grab it. A text message…I open it, the screen bright in my dark bedroom. My stomach flutters and I smile, reading the message over and over again.

You inspire me.

Everything about you makes me want to create…to work…to explode with the energy that you send surging through my veins.

You make me want to do things I was never sure I was really capable of doing.

But now I know; with you, I'm capable of anything.

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Wivern #1
Chapter 137: NY is driving, please send help. 😁
alexaaika
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Chapter 138: lol nay XD
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