this damned school play pt. 5

                                    

                                          
your pov /  three weeks later, one week until the play
                          
John's hands squeeze my waist before roaming to my lower back, edging me farther off of the lab table and pressing our bodies closer together. 
                          
it's currently lunch time and he convinced me to skip with him to . . . make-out. well, in his defense, it didn't take a lot of convincing. since I found out he used that picture of me for his phone's wallpaper, and I kissed him for the first time, i've had trouble not wanting to kiss him. so for the past three weeks we've been making use of any time we have. the amount of times the two of us have skipped out on lunch, 'used the restroom' for longer then is considered normal, or practically darted out of the auditorium after rehearsal is starting to raise suspicion.
                          
I think my mind was changed the second I finally felt how soft his lips actually are. there was no reason for me to want to hide our relationship from people, even before we confessed. my motive was privacy, and it still is, but we could've been friends in school without having to give details to people. it's Johnny, and every time I think about it I wonder why I wanted to hide the fact that no one knows me better then him. this is my boy, the only guy I have ever felt intense feelings for, let alone kissed, and my best friend above all. I can't believe I wasted so much time worried about others—who aren't part of this relationship—and what they'd think. 
                          
when we are not in school we're at our spot, which Lauren officially calls the 'secret make-out spot' now. technically, she's not wrong. she just doesn't know it. there's been multiple occasions where i've had to pry myself from him because, for gods sake kissing is not all that Romeo and Juliet do. 
                          
during our lunch period none of the science rooms are used, giving us perfect opportunities, like now. his lips leave mine, trailing down my jaw to my neck. on instinct, I tilt my head back and tug his hair between my fingers, earning a groan from him against my skin. 
                          
"god, angel, what're you doing to me?" John lifts his head back up to look at me—up at me. the lab table i'm seated on gives me, at least, a couple of centimeters on him. 
                          
shrugging, I wrap my arms around his neck, inching our lips closer but keeping a good enough distance. "I like to think that you're the one doing the corrupting." it occurs to me that I don't know how much longer until lunch is over, though, that's what the bell is for. 
                          
he nods with a sarcastic smile. "yeah, I bet you do." just as our lips meet again, in a sloppy kiss because we're smiling and giggling into it, the overhead bell rings loudly and lunch is over. another groan comes from him, sounding agitated in contrast to the one a few moments ago. the pout that forms on his lips when I pull away—the farthest we've been from each other all lunch—makes me so soft, I can't help but cup his face and kiss it away. 
                          
"we've got to go to class, Johnny." I whisper against his lips and then jump off the lab table. "Mrs. Cullen won't be happy if she has to give us detention a week before the play." grabbing our bags and taking his hand, he hesitantly lets me lead him towards the door. 
                          
as I reach for the door handle he spins me around leaving little to no space between our faces. "just . . . one more kiss?" there's no answer needed when he sees how my eyes flutter shut almost immediately. who am I to deny that request? our lips collide for a fraction of a second 'til I pull away and make sure he doesn't get me distracted again. his feet drag across the floor all the way out of the science room and down the hall. 
                          
only feet from Mrs. Cullen's room the late bell rings and I hear John's snickers, watching me throw my head back in frustration. his hand leaves mine prior to me opening the door of her classroom. all eyes land on us—standing in the doorway.