Twists and Turns

I look ahead and catch his gaze. I go to glance away, but his eyes won't, they just stare into mine, relentless. This hadn't ever happened before. Usually it was just a quick glance, but now its like he's daring me to carry on looking. I don't even bother trying not to and continue staring, feeling suddenly intimidated. He tips up his strong jaw and makes a strange stir rustle in my gut. I hate him so much. I raise one eyebrow, knowing how stupid I must look. This is detention, not regular classes where staring is basically expected in the 40 minutes of boredom that follows every lesson. And yet, we're ensued in a staring war, neither of us undignified enough to look away first. Stubbornness can make things so difficult sometimes. 
The teacher suddenly leaves the room, warning us before stepping out the door and into the forbidden grounds of freedom. I feel the tension in the air build up, smelling slightly of tangerine. Its just him and I now, alone in an unlocked room for the next 30 minutes. We're still staring, though. I didn't realize until now just how blue his eyes really are beneath those thick ropes of brown blonde eyelashes. A piercing blue so light it could be the sky toiling with ice. I want to just look away and end this, but his gaze leaves me undaunted and I won't dare pull away from such an intense battle. 
He tips his chin towards the door, out into the hall, where anything could happen. Anything. He looks away, leaving me flabbergasted, and stands up, grabbing a bathroom pass and stepping into the hall. I'm left there, sitting, leafing through my options. Either I stay here, follow the rules, and get out of detention for good. Or I can go into the hall, follow Jerrick, and possibly get into more trouble. The former sounds so much smarter than the latter, and yet, I've never been one to listen to the better option. Slowly, I slide from my seat, grab a pass, and walk into the hall. The only thing that meets me is the hallway, silent and bordered with an air of teachers. I'd taken merely two steps into the hall when suddenly a hand grabbed my elbow, swinging me around, and pressing me into the wall. I gasped at the shock of the hit and looked up to see those brilliant eyes up close and looking deeply into mine. He smirks, looking quite proud of himself. His hand still held my elbow, even when I tried to shake it off. 
"The hell," I hissed into his face, trying not to punch his nose so hard it bled. He just smiled wider and let go of my elbow. He looked around the empty hall and turned back to me, only to see that I'd begun to walk away. His hand caught my upper arm and stopped me short, pulling me to face him. 
"What in the name of all that is good-" I was cut off by Jerrick as he shoved me into a corner. Now my heart races with adrenaline and I can't understand why I'm not scared. I can't understand why I love this so much, the rush, the burning need. I stop talking, literally unable to produce words with him this close. No one's ever made such a bold move, no one who I liked at least. This all flashes by my mind as Jerrick brings his hands to the sides of my head and leans in, closer and closer each second. 
"Scared yet?" he asks, his voice low and dark. I swallow loudly and breathe slowly, trying to hide the fact that I was just a little bit. 
"Why would I be?" I ask back. This move feels bold in such a breathless moment, but his cards aren't all played out just yet. He leans closer and whispers into my ear, his words slithering across my skin,
"Because we're alone, Sara. Anything could happen." My breath is lost with this one phrase. He's right. No one's here, the teachers could care less about us, and now he's got me cornered into the wall, his face practically inches from mine. I was trapped. I feel the heat spread throughout my body and burn my face into a blushing mess. He looks at me again. I don't look away until I see what he's doing. He's slowly waning me into a blubbery mess so when he goes to his buddies one day he can say, "That Siepker girl's not as tough as she acts..." and from there things will just get worse. And I won't put up with that; not from him. Quickly, stealthily, I dart under his arm and grab the door into the classroom. I've just gotten the door opened when Jerrick's shut it again, pressing my back into the door. The cold metal of the knob presses into my lower back. He looms over me, looking coy. I clench my jaw and hold in all my fear. Nothing, no one, like him, could possibly break me down. Nothing, right?
"Wuss," he whispers with a slight point of his chin. I scoff and place my hands on his chest to push him back. His pectoral muscles flex beneath my touch and make my knees wobble helplessly. It would be so much easier if he wasn't good looking. 
"The only wuss here is the one willing to stand here while teachers wander everywhere else but this very hall," I retort, feeling stupid. He purses his lips and looks annoyed. I roll my eyes and begin to push him back when suddenly he takes my wrists and pulls them away, coaxing them onto the door behind me and forcing me into stillness. My heart hasn't ever pounded harder before. Very lightly his knee rests just above mine, and with that single touch my nerves go into a frenzy, sending my pulse into a hyperactive run.  My eyes widen and he notices, coming even closer.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly. He looks down for a moment, looking ridiculously shy. 
"You to stop being so...so..." He seemed at a loss for words.
"So what?" I coaxed, quieter, almost to the point of whispering. He sighs and comes even closer, if that was possible. His nose traces mine. This second act of touch nearly undoes me completely. Dammit. 
"So stubborn," he finally says. I feel nearly like laughing. I don't.
"Me? Your the one who's stubborn to the point of being an-" 
I can't believe what happened. At first I don't comprehend his lips on mine, his hands on my neck, but then I feel the numbness slip away and the sensation of his touch creep in. Nervousness sweeps me off my feet. My first kiss, in detention, against a door, with someone I thought I'd loathed. Never how I'd really imagined it. 
But its so perfect how his lips feel, soft and slow, his hands warm and endless against my small neck. We don't move, my hands stuck to my sides for the longest time, before he finally pulls up. He looks shocked, like he didn't expect himself to do that. I didn't. Not one bit. 
His hands don't move, but instead tighten almost. I ponder on the thought that he might choke me to death so that word of this doesn't get out, but he has nothing to fear. I won't tell a single soul. 
"Uh," I whisper, unsure what to say. Thanks? Your welcome? Why the hell did you take my first kiss? 
Instead he takes the empty space meant to be answered with words, and fills it with another kiss. He leans down, and this time I feel it as his lips mash with mine, the strangest sensation I'll ever know. I mumble with surprise and feel stunned and exhilarated at the same time. I close my eyes and let the excitement fill me with a tingling thrum that makes my body feel fantastic. Every particle in me wants to burst like fireworks, but being particles all they can do is send dancing chills through me. Closing my eyes I move my hands around his waist, not sure where else to put them. He languidly moves his lips against mine, surprisingly good at this. His eyelashes tickle my cheekbones and I shiver. 
He pulls back again, not afraid to look me straight in the eye. I still can't talk, speechless and dumbfounded. He fills in the void of awkwardness with his own words.
"Was that your first kiss?" Well first two, I think right away. I nod, feeling embarrassment creep up my back and into my face. Blood rushes through my head and pounds. He looks surprised. I move my hands back to my sides and pull back. This time he doesn't fight me and puts his hands down. My neck instantly feels cold and naked. 
"Why-Why did you..." I couldn't even say it. It was like being in Harry Potter and not able to say Voldemort. It made things way to real, way to wild, way to scary. It was so weird though to think that kissing was scary, but with Jerrick, it was. He had an advantage over me now. He could go and tell anyone that I'd gotten my first kiss at the age of 15, or that I'd let him kiss me in the middle of detention. Either way, I would be left humiliated and socially ruined. Also, hurt. Being kissed for me wasn't just another thing like eating sandwiches. Kissing was passionate, intimate, special. And now I'd kissed a boy who had probably kissed a thousand more girls than I would boys in a century. 
Jerrick looked bewildered and was about to answer when suddenly the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. We both reacted on instinct and swung open the door, pouncing inside the classroom and into our seats. The air of awkwardness still hung there, despite the difference in setting. The door opened a few beats later, and a few more beats later the teacher left the doorway, simply there to check on us. I sighed with relief but internally screamed with terror at what I would have to endure next. Jerrick was leaning into his desk, looking at the ground. I did too, glad of the silence for once. But suddenly, he spoke up, cracking the fractured silence.
"I kissed you because you wouldn't stop talking," I frowned, feeling a boil of anger beginning to simmer. I turned on my side and looked him straight in the eye. He looked innocent and suddenly I could see it again, a little boy with tears running down his face and a cut on his hand. A small cut, but a cut with blood no matter; blood that, to a kid at the age of 8, was anything but good. 
I stayed calm and answered,
"That was my first kiss, and you took it to make me shut up?" His lip quirked up on the right side like what I'd said was funny. It kind of was, but I wasn't focused on that. I was focused on not punching him. 
"I guess. I don't know why, okay. And I didn't know it was your first, so chill."
"Chill?" I screeched, unable to contain my hysterics. "Chill?! You kissed me, my first kiss no matter, and your telling me to chill?! Let me ask you, Jerrick, do I look like the kind of girl who gets kissed a lot?" It was so shallow of me to act this way, but my mouth wasn't comprehending my words, just saying them. He knitted his eyebrows and looked at me suddenly serious.
"Yes. Lots. Do you know how many guys like you?" His answer catches me off guard. I feel my eyebrows raise and look away, unable to meet his gaze after such a strange confession. He continues to talk. "I would've figured I wasn't the first guy to make a move." 
First guy? Was there a line somewhere with the poster A Dollar for a Kiss from Sara hanging at the end? Apparently Brock was first in line then. 
"Look, the point is, this doesn't need to get out. I understand we both have lives of our own to worry about, so we'll just keep this chill, got it?" The sarcasm on the word chill dripped with vulgarity. I vowed never to use this word again. Jerrick looks confused again but nods slowly, averting his gaze from me like I'm the one not comprehending things. The truth is, I'm not. I've never been more confused in my life.