Should I Stay Or Should I Go || Madam
Margaret glanced at him as his fingers started to work on her buttons, and he was way too focused to even notice her lookâfilled with flutter and curiosity. âPlease,â  she begged in a low tone, gripping on his shirt before trying to unclasp the very last button. It took her at least three tries to finally move to the next one, her mind already hurting to think there were still 10 more left. She licked her lower lip, her tiny fingers now working with more ease. It didnât help, obviously, that Adam was way ahead than her, her bra already showing. And if already being nervous because she had never gone this far with anyone else, the fact that maybe her underwear didnât match was, suddenly, a new concern. She shook of this thought by concentrating a bit more in the buttons, until their arms bumped, Mags immediately giving up on continuing.
It was hard to stare at his blue eyes again, showing how useless and naĂŻve she was, but it was now or never. She would never had the opportunity to ask him, especially if they went all the way. âAdam,â she started, her voice trembling, âIâm sorry butâŠâ Margaret had to clear her throat before continuing, and his confused look didnât help her at all. âI mean, what are we? What are we even doing?â Noticing he had the wrong impression about her question, she grabbed his hand, drawing circles with her fingers. âDonât get me wrong, please, itâs just that I need something. A label, or anything, really. I need to know if this is just a hook up, if I will call you my friend or my booty call or I donât know, I just need a fucking name.â
In his mind, Adam thought they must have looked comical, trying to undress each other for the very first time. However, it was the very first time he had felt that nervous, that anxious, that craving. He wanted her, completely, but the fact that it was actually going to happen... No, the fact that it was happening in that exact moment made him begin to freak out. He was so nervous it was slightly hard for him to focus on what he had already revealed: the redhead's fair skin of her chest, filled with freckles, and her purple bra. In that moment, none of those were important, what was truly important was the buttons on Margaret's food-printed pajamas. It was hard for him to control the breathy chuckle that escaped from his mouth when their arms touched. Still, as much as it didn't bother him, he knew it did bother her. He saw her thin, small fingers letting go of his white shirt, leaving it halfway unbuttoned.
For a second, he didn't know what to say, he couldn't hear his thoughts on top of his loudly beating heart, it even pounded on his head. Probably, the best to thing to ask would have been 'Hey, what's wrong?' Or, "Are you alright?' But he said nothing. And then he heard her voice, nervous, maybe more nervous than what he was expecting his voice to sound like. He listened to her, and as her words went on, his heart calmed down. Also, as her words went on... He knew the answer, he knew the name. The label. Whatever she wanted to call it, he knew it. Why hadn't he said it? Maybe because he had thought she wouldn't like or agree with it... But now, well, maybe she would. "A name," he muttered, hoping she had heard him. "A name," he repeated, louder this time. "I'm yours, Mags, completely. And I want to think and believe that you're as mine as I'm yours..." Okay, maybe he made no sense at all. He took a deep breath and kissed her blushed cheek. "I would like to think that you're my girlfriend and I'm your boyfriend. Screw psychotic fiancés who have a girlfriend themselves." He made a gesture with his head, and then proceeded to take both her hands in his. "Mags, my love, do you agree? Do you want to be my girlfriend? And... more importantly... Are you okay with this? Do you want to keep going?"
