All I've Ever Want
Dave Lizewski x fem!reader
Summary: Dave and you finally give in to your bottled-up feelings
Warning: a lot of kisses, sexual tension, suggestive situations, a little smut, no use of y/n
It was late, the veil of night already draping over the sky, and for a moment, you completely forgot where you were. That was until you felt a puff of warm air tickling the back of your neck. The realization of your surroundings made your cheeks flush crimson.
You remained still, analyzing the familiar interior of the room. The only source of light was the television, long forgotten, where the DVD logo lazily bounced around the screen, barely illuminating the lilac walls of the attic. To your right was an empty pizza box and soda cans, along with a stack of books and your precious pom-pom pens. The bedroom door was shut, but even so, you wondered if Mr. Lizewski had seen you with Dave on the bed.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it was no less embarrassing.
When you and your aunt moved into the house across the street, it was only a matter of time before you befriended Dave, your adorable and kind neighbor. You remembered the day you met him: Dave was all dark curls and bright blue eyes, smiling shyly beside his mother. While the adults droned on about boring things, you two hit it off, animatedly debating who was the strongest superhero in DC. After that, you became inseparable. His house became an extension of your own, and there were countless times your aunt had to carry you, half-asleep, back across the street to your bed.
Dave was as familiar as the back of your hand. For the longest time, you considered him the highlight of your days. He always knew the perfect jokes to draw out your smiles, and he was so kind, incredibly kind—though a bit of an idiot sometimes, but what could you expect from boys?
He had held you after an especially low physics grade, rubbing your back while you could do nothing but sob uncontrollably, whispering that no one cared about Torricelli and his damn equations. He kept you wrapped in his arms until you calmed down, tracing soothing circles on your back and brushing his lips affectionately against your forehead.
It was during that time you realized he wasn’t just a lanky teenager anymore. There were muscles under those clothes—and he had grown taller, with broader shoulders.
Your perception of him shifted. And before you knew it, your heart would nearly leap out of your chest whenever he got closer. Suddenly, you became very aware of him.
Damn hormones.
Of course, you refused to admit your feelings for a while. Dave was your friend and nothing more. But with every brush of his fingers, every lingering touch of his hands on you, and every conspiratorial smile, the butterflies in your stomach spun furiously.
Fuck.
You were in love.
Not that you ever confessed your erratic feelings. Absolutely not. Your friendship with Dave was too important to risk ruining it with sappy confessions. So you buried any romantic thoughts about him deep in your mind and pretended everything was normal.
Most days it was easy. With Marty and Todd acting as buffers, it was easy to forget the closeness with Dave. Even when your shoulders were pressed together in the comic book store booth and all you could think about was his scent filling your lungs. And when you stood on your tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, you certainly didn't daydream about being so close that your lips were mere millimeters from his skin. And no, you didn’t waste your precious time admiring his hands. God, you were a loser.
Your crush on Dave was in the past.
That was the lie you told yourself every day. Hoping one day it would become true.
Earlier, you had planned an afternoon of studying, a chemistry test was scheduled for next Thursday and it would be good to review organic functions. However, you and Dave quickly forgot about any problems involving ketones or methyls, snuggling on his bed with greasy slices of pizza. You had brought the Dirty Dancing CD in your bag and convinced him—forced him—to watch the movie. But apparently, you had both fallen asleep while Baby was taking her private dance lessons.
You blinked a few times, spotting the digital clock by the bed. The red numbers glowed; it was already 9:13 PM. Damn. You should be home.
Slowly, you tried to get up, only for his arms to tighten around you, holding you against his chest. Your body tensed as you realized where his hands were; the left rested on the soft curve of your waist, the right... — you swallowed —, the right hand was near your chest. Though his fingers weren’t curled around your breasts, their presence in the area was undeniable; firm and warm.
“Dave?” you whispered weakly, noticing from his lack of response that he was still deeply asleep.
With a shaky sigh, you thought about the situation you were in. It wasn’t the first time you had shared a bed or slept together; that had become a habit years ago when you were nothing more than kids addicted to movies. But now things were different. Dave was no longer a little boy. With him behind you, his body pressed perfectly against yours, it was impossible to stop your mind from wandering down sinful paths. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each slow breath, as well as his long legs tangled with yours.
It was fine, it meant absolutely nothing. All you needed to do was slide out of bed and run back home.
As you tried to move again, Dave held you tighter in his iron grip, making you gasp in surprise. When had he become so strong? You hadn’t managed to move an inch!
You shrank as he pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply, sending shivers down your spine. “Dave…?” you tried again, your voice slightly firmer. “I need to…”
“Stay.” He interrupted you, his voice sleepy and raspy. So close that the blend of syllables and consonants vibrated against your skin.
When had he woken up? The realization that he was holding you of his own volition, so close to him, sent unwanted butterflies to your stomach. For a foolish moment, you wondered what would happen if your feelings were reciprocated, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away.
You turned your head, catching a glimpse of his face. The curls fell over his face, giving him an angelic look, and the closed eyelids kept you from seeing those bright irises. A relaxed, even satisfied, expression crossed his sleepy face. His soft, pink lips were slightly parted. Painfully beautiful. The sight made an involuntary smile spread across your face.
“I need to go home,” you whispered, the words shaped by a smile.
“Why?” He didn’t open his eyes, his voice still sleepy enough for you to question whether he was truly awake or caught between consciousness and the land of dreams.
“It’s late and…” With furrowed brows, you asked, “Dave, are you awake?”
“Yes—I mean, no. What difference does it make? Just stay a little longer, I can take you home after.”
Even though you lived, quite literally, across the street, Dave insisted on walking you to your front door every time. No exceptions, it was sweet. He’d cross the street with his arm around your shoulders or holding your hand casually, and then say goodbye with an adorable smile.
But you had to go home. Put some healthy distance between you and bury any depraved thoughts about him deep in your mind. And take an especially cold shower.
“I’ve stayed too long, I need to go. So be a good boy and let me go.” When he made no effort to release you, you huffed impatiently, twisting in an attempt to break free from his grip.
“It’s not enough.” He murmured, holding you so tightly that your ribs complained. You hated that a small part of you loved this little show of strength. That was it, you had serious problems.
“Dave!” You grunted, without success.
Out of breath, you sucked in air between your teeth. You could have kicked him, but his frayed nerves would hardly let him feel pain. The only alternative was to keep fighting for your freedom, and that’s what you did. Grabbing his forearms in an attempt to force him to loosen his hold, you lifted your legs off the bed and twisted desperately.
A squeak escaped your lips as he huffed in annoyance, his large hands easily spinning you on the bed, as if you were a damn rag doll, pushing your back into the mattress and quickly collapsing over your body. Trapping you definitively between his arms and legs. The bed frame creaked under the force of the impact. “Quiet.” He said, the word seeming to scrape his throat.
You froze for a moment, assessing the compromising position you were in. With Dave on top of you, between your legs, his weight fully pressing down on you, making it difficult to breathe. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding furiously against his chest. With his head pressed against your chest, his curls tickled your chin, and they smelled so good… You quickly pushed that thought away. Your face burned with embarrassment, feeling warm breaths brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
Grabbing his broad shoulders, you tried to push away, taking in air noisily. As with the other times, it was pointless. “D-Dave! I can’t breathe!”
His laugh irritated you, but when he lifted his head and looked at you with those big, bright eyes, you knew it was pointless to try to seem annoyed. “So dramatic.” He teased, though you suspected a slight blush stained his cheeks. Dave might have been acting tough now, but he was still shy and—sometimes—awkward.
You took a theatrical breath, hands still on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. “You’re heavy, you idiot!” You scolded, false irritation coloring your words.
He flinched, looking embarrassed for a few seconds. The dim light from the TV cast shadows across his face, only highlighting the edges of his features. “I wouldn’t have done that if you were a good girl and stayed quiet.”
The indulgent choice of his words made your cheeks burn. It was far too easy to imagine them in a different context, amid sighs and moans of pleasure. Damn. What was your fucking problem?
Embarrassed, you bit your lip between your teeth. “I-I... hm, I n-need to go.” You repeated, unable to meet his gaze.
“Why?” He questioned again, his voice an octave lower. His blue eyes scanned your face, daring not to move a single millimeter.
It was hard to think clearly and rationally with him so close, deliciously pressed against you. But you made an effort, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to clear your mind.
“Dave!” You laughed, shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a better position for your legs. “We’re past that phase, you know I need to go home.”
You wondered if he could hear the frenzy of your heart pounding against your ribcage. His face was absurdly close to yours. The heat radiated from his body, and his eyes—oh, God, he was looking at you now, so intensely it felt like he could see even the thoughts you hid.
“You can’t stay still, can you?” Dave murmured, his voice a mix of drowsy and husky, with a hint of humor, although his eyes carried something more—something that made the air in the room feel heavier.
You tried to laugh to break the tension, but the sound died before it could escape. He didn’t move, not even blinking, as if he were memorizing every detail of you in that moment: eyes slightly wide, the lower lip caught between your teeth, the blush coloring your cheeks treacherously.
“Dave…” Your voice came out low, almost a plea. You didn’t know exactly what you were asking for, but you needed to say something to fill the silence that only seemed to make the space between you grow.
“I just…” He quickly looked away, but his eyes returned to you almost instantly, this time focusing on your lips. The movement was so subtle you barely noticed, but your stomach flipped with the realization. He blinked, as if he had just noticed what he was doing, and the tips of his ears turned as red as the reflection of the digital clock. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... crush you.” He tried to laugh, but the sound also seemed muffled.
“It’s okay.” You managed to say, even with your uneven breathing and a million things running through your mind. But when he tried to move to get off you, your fingers—almost instinctively—grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “Wait.”
The request was spontaneous, as unexpected for you as it was for him. Dave stopped immediately, his eyes searching yours, confused and hesitant. “Wait?” He repeated, the word carrying a mix of hope and doubt.
Silence settled between you again, but this time it seemed to carry something tangible, almost electric. Your eyes fell, against your will, to his lips—and it was then you realized he was doing the same. The small smile he tried to hide with a nervous sigh only intensified the butterflies in your stomach.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he suddenly muttered, so low you almost thought you imagined it. His eyes widened slightly, and he immediately started to stutter. “I mean, not crazy-crazy, but... oh, damn, I never know what to say around you, and—”
“Dave.” Your voice, firm and soft, cut through his confusion. Your eyes met again, and this time, no one looked away. You felt something warm, burning slowly in your chest, as the intensity between you became almost unbearable.
He swallowed hard, the dark curls falling slightly over his forehead and his blue eyes shining with something that seemed to be a mix of doubt and courage. He looked like he was about to say something but hesitated, his gaze lost as if searching for the right words in the air between you.
“I…” He started, his voice hoarse and low, and stopped, furrowing his brow as if in an internal battle. You didn’t say anything, feeling the tension catch your breath. The weight of him on you, though light, brought an odd sense of comfort, as if the universe had decided that this was the only place you should be.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he finally confessed, his voice coming out in a whisper so full of emotion that you felt a shiver run down your spine. His eyes wandered over your face, lingering on the curve of your lips before returning to your eyes. “Being this close to you and, at the same time, so far... it hurts.”
Your heart raced. You wanted to respond, but the intensity in his eyes made the words stick in your throat. He took a deep breath, as if he needed all the courage in the world to continue.
“I don’t just want to hold your hand.” His voice broke, almost cracking, but he kept his eyes on yours. “I want you. All of you. Every part. Not as a friend, not as someone who smiles at me and pretends not to see how trapped I am by you. I can’t do this anymore.”
You felt your heart speed up even more, and a sudden wave of courage bubbled within you. The pain and passion in his eyes reflected your own feelings so perfectly that, for the first time, you didn’t want to hide anything.
“Dave,” you started, your voice a little hesitant, but soon found its strength. “I can’t take it anymore either... pretending that everything is fine, that I can just be your friend when all I want is...” Your voice faltered, but you found his eyes again, gaining strength as you saw hope rising in them. “All I want is you.”
His lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, it seemed like he was lost. Then, before you could say anything else, he took action. In one instant, you were finishing your confession, and in the next, his lips were on yours.
The impact of the kiss sent a shiver up your spine, as if every fiber of your being had awakened at once. His lips were even softer than you had imagined, a softness almost contradictory to the urgency with which he kissed you. His taste—warm, with a touch of sweetness mixed with pure desire—filled your palate, overwhelming your senses until you lost all sense of where you ended and he began.
Your breaths mingled, warm and ragged, as if you were both fighting for air but unable to pull away. His hands found your waist, fingers tightening with enough pressure to set your skin on fire, and you felt the weight of his body pressing even more firmly against yours. The pressure was delicious, every movement making your mind spin.
You couldn’t help it; your fingers moved on their own, finding the dark curls you had always loved. They were as soft as they seemed, and you wound them between your fingers, tugging them gently. The sigh he released against your mouth was like a spark in a fire, igniting something even more intense between you.
He deepened the kiss, and you gave yourself over completely, feeling every curve of his lips, the subtle but undeniable strength of his hands holding you tight. One of his hands slid down your waist until it found the curve of your hip, fingers pressing the soft flesh with a care that was both possessive and gentle. You felt his heat against your skin like a wave, and the weight of him against you was a physical reminder that he was there, all his, with you.
It was feverish, desperate, and absolutely perfect. Your hands, which had been shy before, now explored with more confidence. Your fingers traced invisible lines on his neck, while your other hand slid down his shoulder. Each touch seemed to draw a new sigh from him, and you loved the sound, loved knowing that you could make him feel that way.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, faces so close that your breaths still mingled. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, eyes shining as if he were seeing something sacred.
“You... have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, heavy with emotion. His lips were red and slightly swollen, and the sight made you lose yourself for a moment before responding, with a shy smile.
“I think I do,” you whispered, running your fingers lightly through his messy curls. And, as he smiled, still panting, you knew, without a doubt, that you could never live without this again.
He didn’t say anything. He just leaned in again, without hesitation, without asking for permission. The kiss that followed was not gentle or restrained; it was fierce, almost to the point of pain, filled with an urgency that made your heart pound. He kissed you as if he were a starving man, as if the moments you had just shared were not enough, as if he wanted to consume you completely.
You loved it. The impact made you lose it completely, your thoughts disintegrating as his weight pinned you to the bed, feeling his chest crush your breasts. The intensity was overwhelming, and every movement of his lips against yours made you feel like you were on the verge of falling apart. It was almost unbelievable—to be here, in his bed, where you had spent so many afternoons playing, laughing, and discussing your favorite movies and comics. That familiar space, which had once felt safe and innocent, was now imbued with something entirely new, something devastating.
Your hands, trembling and bold, began to explore. Your fingers moved up the curve of his back, feeling every muscle contract under your touch. It was dizzying, discovering how he reacted, feeling the heat of his skin under his thin shirt, realizing that he was as vulnerable as you were at that moment.
His hands, in turn, slid down the side of your body, firm and full of purpose, until they found your leg, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. When he pulled it, positioning it around his waist, you felt a shiver run through your entire body. The surprise almost made you gasp, but the gesture did not scare you — on the contrary, it awakened something even more intense inside. He held you like you were precious, but the way his fingers squeezed your thigh said something else: that he wanted you in every way possible.
When your breath finally betrayed you, he broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away. His hot breath fanned your skin, and before you could say anything, his lips were on your jaw, trailing a slow, scorching path of wet kisses down your neck. His touch sent waves of heat through your body, and you writhed slightly beneath him, unable to contain yourself, liquid heat pooling between your legs.
“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of emotion. Each word came between one kiss and another, his lips exploring with an almost adorable reverence. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I wanted you.”
You felt your heart tighten in your chest, a mix of emotions that seemed about to overflow. He stopped for a moment, just to look at you. His gaze was filled with something raw, sincere, and made you want to never leave the damn bed again.
“I love being the reason for your sighs,” he said softly, his fingers tracing a soft pattern on your skin, where he had mistreated it before. “I love seeing you like this… and knowing that, for the first time, I can say that you are mine.”
His words were like an echo of your own thoughts, and you could hardly believe that this was happening. There, in that moment, it was as if all the lost time had finally been recovered, as if every unconfessed desire had found its answer.
“Dave…” His name escaped your lips like a sigh, full of desire and emotion, before you pulled him back to you. The kiss that followed was just as devastating as the previous ones, but this time you were the one leading, the one setting the pace. Your fingers slid into his messy curls, holding them firmly as your lips met in a feverish, passionate clash. You heard a hoarse sound, almost a moan, escape him as his fingers tugged at your hair, which only served to further ignite the fire that burned inside you.
For a moment, you pulled away just enough to watch him. The blush on his cheeks spread across his face, his lips were red and swollen from so many kisses, shining under the soft light of the room. His hair, always a little messy, now seemed completely untamed, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought that this was all your fault. He was beautiful, and the sight of him like that—vulnerable, surrendered, and yet filled with an almost raw intensity—made something inside you shiver.
You wrapped your other leg around him, holding him tighter against you, as if the world might suddenly intervene and tear you apart. The movement caused his weight to shift, pressing him even tighter against you, and it sent a rush of liquid heat through your body. A noise rasped in his throat at your movement, his body tensing as he pressed against the softness of your body. It felt like instead of blood, fire was coursing through your veins, every fiber of your being ablaze at the closeness, at the way he touched you, the way his lips sought yours as if they were the only thing that mattered.
His hands were no longer hesitant. One held tightly to your waist, while the other slowly moved up your sides, as if he wanted to map every inch of you. There was strength in his touch, as if he wanted to mark you somehow, as if he wanted you to feel that moment on your skin even after it had passed. When he leaned down to your collarbone and began to place small bites on your neck, your breath caught. Each bite felt carefully placed, not just as a show of desire, but as a silent promise that he was there, that he wanted you completely.
You arched your body against his, unable to control the reactions he was eliciting. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him even closer, desperate for any friction. The space between you was nonexistent, but it still felt like it would never be enough. Every touch, every kiss, every sigh that escaped you was filled with an overflowing urgency, as if years of pent-up feelings had finally found their way to the surface.
“You’re a dream,” he murmured, his lips moving against your skin, his voice so low and husky that you could barely hear him. The confession made something inside you melt, even as your hands explored his back, every muscle that moved beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
He looked at you again, his eyes bright and full of an emotion you could barely name, and you knew he felt exactly the same as you: that this moment, so charged with intensity, was something neither of you wanted to end.
Then, without hesitation, he kissed you again, and this time there was a desperate urgency in his movements, as if he needed your lips to breathe. The way he pressed you against the bed, with the weight of his body and the strength of the kiss, made your heart race and your thoughts disintegrate, leaving only the feeling of having him so close.
His hand, previously hesitant, slowly descended to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. He paused for a moment, as if asking for silent permission, but the look you gave him, full of surrender and desire, was all he needed. His fingers slid beneath the fabric, finding the soft skin of your waist, and the touch was like an electric shock that ran through your body. You shivered against him, unable to contain your reaction, and he smiled against your lips, as if he loved the effect he had on you.
His weight was crushing and yet comforting. You could barely move beneath him, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, you didn’t want to move; you just wanted to feel, to absorb everything he was offering. It was a weakness unlike any you’d ever felt, a numbness that wasn’t numbness but complete surrender. He was all that filled your mind, every thought, every beat of your heart.
His other hand moved down to your hip, gripping it tightly enough to make you gasp. You could tell he was trying to hold something back, to keep you from moving against the bulge in his pants. But you couldn’t feel him pressed against your core—the way he held you, the way his fingers gripped your flesh with a kind of almost feral need, said it all. That realization made your pussy clench around nothing, starving for any attention.
You couldn’t help it; your hands started moving again, exploring his arms, moving up his chest, trying to memorize every contour as your own desires grew in intensity. He seemed intoxicated, his kisses growing deeper and more desperate, as if he wanted to mark you with each one. And when his lips finally pulled away from yours to come up for air, it was only for a moment, before they went back down to find any patch of sensitive skin.
The soft bites he placed on your skin were like spreading flames, each one more intense than the last. You felt his lips form words against your skin, a low, husky whisper that made you shiver. “You’re mine… you’ve always been mine.”
The sound of those words, along with his overwhelming weight and presence, made you feel like you were going to lose your breath completely. Everything around you seemed to disappear except for him—Dave, who was no longer trying to hold back, who wanted you as desperately as you wanted him. And you knew there was no going back; not after this.
With his eyes fixed on yours, Dave let his fingers work at the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up, as if he wanted to savor every second. When the fabric was finally ripped away, he stopped, staring at you with an intensity that made your heart race. The silence that followed seemed to vibrate with something unspoken as he simply admired you, watching your chest rise and fall with each ragged breath, the shape of your breasts covered by a thin bra that left little to the imagination. His mouth felt dry.
You felt the heat of his gaze travel over your exposed skin, and embarrassment began to creep in, but then he broke the silence, his voice low and husky. “You’re beautiful… so beautiful.” His words were filled with a caress that made you feel completely disarmed, and you realized that you had nothing to be ashamed of. The desire in his eyes was so evident, so overwhelming, that it made your own fears evaporate.
His fingers lightly touched the edge of your bra, tracing a soft, almost reverent path. The touch seemed to set your skin on fire, and the heat that ran through your veins was almost too much to bear. You arched your body involuntarily, moving towards him, a low moan escaping your lips without permission as you felt him press his cock harder against you.
His hands returned to exploring your body with increasing urgency, pulling your bra down instead of removing it from your body. His fingers kneaded your breasts, seeking the pressure that made you purr like a kitten. When he buried his face in your chest, he wasted no time in mouthing the sensitive flesh, sucking on the hard tip until you whimpered. He seemed to want to devour you, and the frenzy that this aroused in you made your pussy respond, staining your panties with more of your arousal. Your own fingers roamed his torso, exploring every line, every muscle that contracted under his touch.
He paused for a moment, staring at you with a silent question in his eyes, his mouth redder than ever. A look that said it all—he wanted to make sure you were okay, that this was what you wanted. His response was instinctive, almost automatic. You writhed beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders, your voice shaky and urgent. “Dave… I want you. Please.”
That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you again, this time harder, more eager, as if he wanted to take you in completely. His lips left yours only so he could move down to your neck again, exploring every inch with hot kisses and soft bites that made you tremble. Only then did he grind his hips against yours, groaning against your skin as he established a rhythm. The seam of your pants brushed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
You felt his fingers tighten around your waist, as if he wanted to mark you right then and there. Your body responded automatically, moving against his, every nerve ending burning with urgent need. Your hands moved lower, finding the waistband of his pants, hesitating only for a moment before undoing the button, your fingers trembling as you unzipped him. He shivered when you touched him, feeling his cock twitch against your fingers. Dave groaned your name as you circled the pre-cum-covered tip. Your own body reacted to it, imagining what it would be like to have him stretching you from the inside, slamming against your cervix. Your toes curled at the thought.
“Dave?” Mr. Lizewski’s voice came from the other end, casual but loud enough to make your heart race for an entirely different reason. Your fingers stilled instantly, terrified at the thought of being caught in this situation. “Is everything okay in there?”
Dave reacted instantly, his body tensing as he hurried to cover yours with his, his arms wrapped around you like a shield. “Yes, Dad! It’s okay, it’s okay!” he replied, his voice louder and more hurried than usual.
You held your breath as Dave looked at the door, a blush staining his face. His eyes met yours briefly, shame and embarrassment reflected in his features, before he called out again, “It’s okay in here!”
The silence that followed was brief, but it felt endless, until Mr. Lizewski spoke again, and this time there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Is your friend in the room with you, Dave?”
Dave froze, his eyes meeting yours once more. His gaze was intense, as if he were weighing what to say, and it made your heart race again, but not from nervousness—this time it was from something deeper. The intensity of that moment, the way he was looking at you, almost took away what little breath you had left. His hand that remained on your hip left a reassuring caress.
Finally, he answered, casually, “Yes, Dad, my girlfriend is here.” Your mouth fell open in surprise at his words, your heart beating painfully fast. Girlfriend. Girlfriend! Dave gave you a crooked smile, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to contradict him. You didn’t. He pressed his face against yours, his lips gently pressed against your jaw.
Mr. Lizewski chuckled from the other side of the door, which made you bury your face in your hands in sheer embarrassment. “Well, her aunt called to ask her to come home. Apparently she needs help with the roast or something.”
You tried not to groan in embarrassment as you answered, your voice sounding thinner than you would have liked. “Oh, thanks, Mr. Lizewski. I’ll be right there.”
The sound of his father’s footsteps walking away was followed by a tense silence that was broken when they both started laughing at the same time, unable to contain the mix of relief and embarrassment they felt.
Dave lowered his head and kissed you again, this time gently, his lips sealing a silent promise. “We’ll keep this up,” he murmured, his voice low and husky against yours.
He picked up your shirt from the floor and helped you put it on, your hands still a little shaky as you tried to fix your messy hair and disheveled clothes. “There,” he said with an embarrassed smile, looking at the damage he had done to your skin. It would take days for the marks to fade. “I think everything is fine… or almost.”
Later, when he drove you home, the nervousness returned, but this time it was mixed with something else—a certainty. At the door, as you prepared to enter, Dave stopped, his eyes fixed on yours once more.
Unlike all the times before, he leaned in and kissed you, a brief, sweet touch that made your heart melt. "Good night, girlfriend," he whispered, with that shy but meaningful smile.
