[Baby, Can I Hold You? <solo> ] closed; Isaac

It was a known fact that there were dancers in the studio all hours of the day and night, working their asses off to perfect some new great solo, or even just an off-kilter turn. Sophia had been slightly concerned when she left Isaac as to whether or not someone would be in the space, and prayed mightily that they weren't; there wasn't any point in time when Soph didn't want to dance, but this was one of those times when she simply needed to dance. A gigantic sigh of relief excited her small frame as she slid into the studio and shut the door, knowing that anyone curious to practice would afford her a few hours of privacy, and moved to the sound system, filing through the cds and selecting her personal collection of music. There were several pieces within her that she had choreographed to the various songs, but tonight, she wanted to practice a specific one, for no reason other than she felt it. The disc whistled in the player as she set it and she smiled wistfully, thankful for this small piece of sanity in her life which was currently a bit disturbing for her taste.

She always carried her modern slippers with her; it was a habit of dancers to carry their current obsession and this was no different. Planting herself on the floor, she slid them over her toes bent inward from years of point, and calloused from years trapped in various leather or flaxen shoes. Sophia merely glanced at them fondly before standing and peeling off her shirt; she didn't feel like retrieving a leotard, so her sports bra (convenient, that she had worn it today) would have to do. There were no interruptions expected, in any case, so it mattered very little. Going through her shoulder bag, which she had happily picked up from a vintage store in her hometown, she searched for a pair of leggings or anything other than the jean shorts she was wearing, the beads decorating the outside of the bag sprinkling the air with tinkles from the rummaging. Uttering a sigh of what might have been defeat, she was about to give up before her hand touched something soft in the very depths of the bag. She pulled out her caught prize and found it to be a pair of well-worn and almost forgotten black leggings. Changing happily, she turned to the player and took a deep breath, her mind, so wonderfully distracted, back to the challenge at hand.

There was still some level of frustration in her, although being afforded a fire-start temper meant that Soph didn't stay mad for long. She just needed breathing room. Isaac did stupid boy things often enough that she should have been used to it, but this time had somehow been different. Sophia had been dreadfully offended by his assertion that she needed to grow up. That was the statement that stuck in her mind; it was like a taunt inside her. Growing up how? Like Isaac? How was he more grown up than her in any possible way? What, was it like, sexual experience, the drinking, the smoking, the popularity? She didn't want any of it, so why did his stupid boy opinion matter so damn much? Running her hands through her long blonde hair and pulling it into a messy ponytail on the crown of her head, she licked her lips and bent to the player, setting it to play and moving to the center of the floor.

She had already taught herself the choreography; the point was to refine it with practice. The music didn't even start before she had began to move, a prelude to the beat; when it did strike, it was with a force and she punched it with her body. It was easy to see, once the dancing begin, where her innate grace came. She was fluid and light, the movements sharp but relaxed, and her flexibility was evident in a high kick and slow fall. There were years of effort and training in each move, but even more than that, there was a determined heartbeat that grew to a more rapid pulse each second she danced. As per usual, Sophia lost herself within seconds, just moving with the music, her body almost on autopilot, her eyes closed, her ears hearing only music, only rhythm, and only her thudding heart. Turns, dips, whips, she floated around the room, her muscles tensing with each movement, face flushing with heat and drops of sweat crystallizing into salt on her forehead, her bare stomach lined with working muscles. Her legs were the most defined, having been the most affected from her illness and therefore the least fatty of all of her body - if there was any fat to be found. The only definition of them was the hard muscle wrapping the bone. Her feet arched perfectly. Her arms whirled as they had a million times before. It was Sophia at her best and most beautiful, to anyone peering through the window of the door; to her, however, it was like breathing, walking, or seeing. It wasn't that she was dancing - she was living in the music.

She was free.

Isaac was officially the master of major screw-ups. He had made some bad decisions in the past, always had things he regretted, and flat out just stopped thinking in some cases, but it had always worked out in the end, because he was damned lucky and knew how to play his cards right. When Soph got mad though, he could just never see how it would work out. Even if it probably would, and all the logic said he would feel like shit, she would feel bad for making him feel like that, then they would make up, while she was actually upset with him, it was like the end of the world. It was probably a good thing for him to get nudged back into his place whenever he stepped over the line, but he felt as is he had been beaten back into place this time.

He actually physically ached. His stomach had that almost cramp feeling whenever he thought about her face as she left his room. Her lips had been pressed into a hard line, and her eyes, though meant to look stern showed the obvious amount of pain and discomfort and whatever the hell else she had been feeling. Sometimes, he couldn’t completely figure out everything she was thinking and feeling. There was always some part of her that wouldn’t open up to him. It bugged him even though he knew she didn’t have to show him her real self even as much as she did. Either way, he had to fix this all now.

His stop by Rea’s room had helped take his mind off things for a little, giving him a chance to clear his head and think about the problem all over again. And he realized. He had been a huge jerk. Of course he already knew he had been, but then again, she knew that too. Isaac’s brain shifted around as he walked through the halls. He began to wonder if it really was all about him making a wording mistake. They needed to talk again. That much was obvious. Her room would be the first place he would look, but then decided she probably wouldn’t want to be around her roommates in the state she had left in. The next place on his list would be the dance studio. If she wasn’t there, he would probably try her room for safety, then some of the other girl’s dorms, then the library, then around campus. Or perhaps he should check to see if her car was still there. She might have always decided to leave him and drive back home.. but that wasn’t likely.

As he approached the dance hall, the door was slightly ajar, lights on, music sounding at a quiet level of sound that echoed to a decently loud volume off the walls and hardwoods. A quick glance spotted her body dancing away on the other side of the room, he looked around, keeping his eyes off her. He still felt a little like a dog that had been bopped on the nose for getting doing something wrong. His figure slipped in through the doorway without a second thought before closing it silently behind him and leaning against the nearest wall. He would at least wait for her to finish her dance before he said whatever the hell he was going to say. What was he going to say anyways. Maybe it would be one of those moments where the right words just come out of your mouth. That would be nice and convenient in this case. Finally, he moved his eyes to actually look at her. He was actually quite surprised at her attire. But of course she would be wearing something like that when she danced. He had just.. expected to see her in what she had been wearing? Maybe he wasn’t surprised so much as captivated. His lips parted just a little in the same way for both emotions, so it would make sense.

She seemed to be doing a really good job with this dance as.. different as it was from most styles. There was something always a little primal and almost scary about modern dance, as graceful as each individual movement could be. This one in particular seemed especially powerful; then again, she was here dancing off what had just happened. Somehow though, the pure emotion driving each perfected motion through a host like Sophia made this dance seem very.. passionate? Wrong word, but he couldn’t quite find the right word. The only word that came to his head as his eyes fluidly followed her every move was ‘raw’. Raw emotion. Raw dancing. And he hated that word too. It was almost disturbing. Uncooked meat? Ugh. But there was nothing else he could think of to describe it. Not that he was really thinking too much. He was too focused on taking in every move of her muscles under the thin layers of skin, and in some places, clothing, his eyes dissecting her every movement.

A quite sigh escaped him. When this song was done, he would have to say something.

She didn't notice him for a moment; her mind tended to narrow in focus while she danced, and this instance was no different. Sophia continued to use the space, moving her body so fluidly it was hard to remember that she had bones. That was the thing that she loved so much about Modern; after a life of structured French ballet, Pointe, the rigor of tap, and the adherence to beat that jazz required, dancing with no restraints other than the limits of your own limbs was a beautiful freedom. She was challenging herself, her well-trained muscles, to reach beyond their boxes of defined movement and move like liquid filled their pores, and she was getting good at it, too. Her blonde hair fell into her face as she turned, kicking her leg out and leaping; then, in mid-air, her eyes opening as she spun, she saw him. Isaac was here, that wasn't her imagination? For that split second, her concentration was broken, and she hit the floor - not in the correct manner, either. Soph landed in an awkward jazz split and she made a face as the pain of a stretched hamstring (but not a torn one, that would hurt much worse) darted through her body like the tingling fingers of a burn, but the expression disappeared as she rolled to the side, finishing the movement and ending up on the other side of the room from him, next to her bag. She reached out slowly and turned the music off, leaving the door to the set open (she would retrieve her CD before leaving, of course), and stood up, her mind throbbing with the heavy pace of her heart.

She wanted to apologize, but not for being upset; just for blowing it a little out of proportion. Getting upset was okay considering what he'd said to her, rather, texted her, and she expected an apology from him for that. Taking a deep breath, her heart slowing some but not entirely due to the adrenaline his entrance was causing to race through her, she turned to face him, the lightly toned muscles in her stomach contracting and expanding with her attempts to control breathing, a sheen of sweat glistening over her body. Sophia brushed a strand of hair from her azure eyes and crossed her arms over her small chest as she walked to him, trying to ignore the tugging, gentle pain in her leg, suddenly feeling very self-conscious - and not about her physicality, but about her emotional over-reaction. She felt a flush grow in her cheeks and wet her lips as she stopped a few feet from him, dropping her arms suddenly as the words spilled from her mouth.

"Look, I'm sorry, I really...over-reacted." Sophia didn't pause, she didn't want him to interrupt. "But that was really...well, mean, Isaac. And I think I deserve an apology, too." She had been looking him in the eyes, but the sudden silence made it strangely intense. Her gaze did not waver, no matter how difficult it was, and she felt the familiar drop in her stomach that she tried so desperately to ignore. It was very hot in the space, at least, too her, but perhaps that was a combination of having just danced her ass of and being so close to Isaac. Soph bit her lip and waited for his response, arms still crossed over her chest.

A premature finish on her rear led to a bit if a mental panic for Isaac, though his face didn’t show it. He thought that by the time she was done he would have thought up something to say. But he seemed to have been a little erm. distracted while he was supposed to be thinking of words. He was still so distracted that he had barely moved when she did fall, but relaxed again as she seemed to be mostly fine. His eyes glazed out a little. It really wasn’t his fault that one of his closest girly friends had been doing a much more attractive dance style than usually in much less clothing than normal. He blinked twice to pull his head back out of the past and start thinking again, but after she turned off the music and turned towards him, he lost it once more. He just couldn’t get his brain to function correctly.

Her arms were crossed over her chest. She must have still been angry. But it didn’t really make him feel bad anymore. He had said sorry, and he really was but he couldn’t really stay too sorry when the heat of her skin showed in her cheeks or her slender muscles twisted and stretched under the thin layer of skin and thinner layer of moisture to show the tiniest movements in her form. Damn his roaming eyes. She hadn’t really seemed to notice, and the look over had happened on all of about one second, but the image seared in his mind like a video playing over and over the action of her moving towards him. By the time she stopped a few feet from him and looked at him, however, his eyes were back practically chained to hers. They were still fierce, but the softness of the blue eyes he usually sees was beginning to show at the edges. Then, before he could actually open his mouth to see if anything would come out, she began to apologies to him. It actually took him a little off guard.

She was still upset, which was understandable considering how big or a d-bag he had been. He wasn’t off the hook. He still had to say something.. Then a little voice came to him from somewhere in the back of his mind [s]or the pit of his stomach[/s] that was quietly and persistently telling him to just kiss her. Why didn’t he think of that. He wouldn’t have to say anything. Everything about the way she was standing, the crease in her lower lip where her teeth held it back, the tone of her voice and what she had said just continued to nudge him towards that option. But. She had never been kissed before. He knew her well enough to know that. And that, she may not react the best way. And she could be scared of him or of the kiss. And she might get madder. And. She seemed so fragile. Her hair pulled up with some strands clinging to and hanging around her face. Her cerulean eyes staring at him with a mixture of intensity and softness that no one else could match. She was still breathing heavily, chest rising and falling at an uneven rate, and the image of her torso when she was sick flashed through his mind. All the feelings of how breakable she was and how protective he needed to be of her welled up again inside of him.

Maybe she wouldn’t mind so much. If he was careful?

Then before he could really consciously decide between a rational and a completely ludicrous idea, his body moved forward. One step forward, one more step and as he his body to bring the first foot to a standstill next to the one directly in front of her, his hands very carefully, but efficiently found their way to her bare waist, just above her hips. This was such an easy movement for him, practiced to perfection. The art of making a girl feel comfortable under his hands. It almost felt too flawless. He wondered if she would notice and think he was doing because he was alike this around every other girl. It wasn’t like that at all though. This whole thing had not happened enough times to make it special just on it’s own. He felt like he finally had the self control and she trusted him enough for this to happen.

Her skin radiated under his fingers and her warmth seemed to travel up his arms to fill his entire body. His eyes hadn’t broken contact with hers yet, and though she seemed like she had the potential to be a little shocked at his move, it either hadn’t quite set in yet, or she wasn’t going to protest really. His fingers pushed very gently against her skin, nudging her towards him at the same time he moved forward a little himself. This seemed like an agonizingly slow process, and became slower every moment he looked down at her, both of their mouths open a little, hot breath colliding midair in the little gap between their lips. If she hadn’t said no by now.. as gingerly as he had probably ever done, Isaac let his eyelids drop and dipped his head to fill the small space and catch her lower lip in one soft kiss.

There was nothing to it really, but his emotions were racing. There was something so pure about it. Like kissing glass. Her body tensed at first, and he thought about pulling away, but when she relaxed into it some, he could hardly help pulling her closer to him. It was amazing that he was able to control himself this much. He now knew that he had wanted this for a long time, and not just because it was something he wasn’t allowed to have. If he hadn’t been taking a very conscious effort to keep his emotions in tact, he was afraid he would completely crush her, or scare her off somehow. Much to his surprise though, as he breathed in through his nose, able to smell her shampoo and sweat all at once, her lips actually opened and formed the tiniest bit to his. Maybe she really wanted this as much as he did. The thumb of his right hand brushed slightly against her waist until it was pointing up, fingers still curled around to her back, while his left hand slid its way up the contour of the muscles in her back to the back of her neck. His fingers reached into her hair, both for him to support the weight of her head, and to allow him to push his mouth against hers a little more. A hot shiver ran through his spine and down his legs as he attempted to hold himself back. But even as chaste as this kiss was, there was something burning behind it that he couldn’t completely forget was part of the reason behind all this. He owed it to her though to keep his masculine drives to himself for now.

He was silent. Completely and utterly silent. He wasn't saying anything. Not even a sound of recognition of her apology? Sophia suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes; there was something familiar in them, but it had never been directed at her. She held them as fiercely as she could, not backing down, but behind her gaze she felt like she was melting; snow in the sunlight. It was obvious that he was thinking about something; his eyes, nearly the same color of hers, were glistening in that certain way that she recognized. Why wasn't he saying anything? She released her lip as though about to speak herself, but nothing came. There was nothing left for her to ad. Goosebumps were rising over her arms, her bare stomach, and then, he was coming to her, and she was frozen; what was he doing?! She tilted her head to meet his eyes as he stopped so close to her, and she vaguely noticed his hands on her bare midriff as a shiver moved up her spine. Sophia caught herself thinking about the time they had sat in this same room, his arms wrapped around her while she cried and her whole body convulsed with the effort it took just to weep. He had seen her at her worst. Isaac had began to define her at her best. Was that a good or bad thing?

If her breathing had been slowing, it was quickening now. She was becoming much more aware of how close they were, how heavy his hands suddenly felt on her skin. Isaac was touching her like he touched other girls; this registered in her mind and her eyes widened, but she didn't have time to protest, because his lips had caught hers. It was like a lightening bolt through her system; every single muscle tensed instantly at the shock of the moment. Her first kiss, with Isaac? But it felt...good. It felt real. Her body relaxed after only a moment in his hands, and she practically curved to fit his form, her hands, which she had fisted in his shirt at first contact, releasing to rest on his chest. Her lashes brushed her flushed cheeks and her lips parted in a sigh, inviting an even more electric kiss. The goosebumps were back and her mind was reloading; what was she doing? Kissing Isaac? Oh, God. No, no, she was not just another one of his play things! Her mind demanded that she pull away, be angry, react in any way other than what she was; instead, as his fingers slid into her hair, she tilted her head just enough that the angle of the kiss changed and provided a new experience for her virgin lips. This was Isaac. She considered haphazardly that perhaps this was why girls liked to kiss him so much - he was damn good at it. Soph didn't, of course, have anything to compare it to, but it didn't matter. It was perfect.

But it couldn't last forever. She knew that. For now, she was trying to ignore the little voice in her head telling her that this was all wrong - the exact opposite of how it felt.

Feeling all her muscles tense up at once really just prompted him to slightly flex his arms in pulling her in. It was the opposite of what he should usually do, because he knew it was a discomfort, but he did it anyways, hoping it was only a momentary one. Though he had to admit, the way her fists tugged at his shirt then slowly relaxed to where her palms here resting against his chest wasn’t helping him control himself. Already his breathing was becoming a little labored and heavy, fighting back a multitude of urges, to move his hands to better locations, to move his lips to other locations, even just to deepen the kiss; somehow, he contained himself though. Slow and steady wins the girl. What did win even mean in this case though? Did he even have a point in this kiss? Well, other than how amazing, and agonizing, and amazingly agonizing it was. He knew for sure that ‘win’ didn’t mean ‘sleep with’. Even under his manly kissing stupor, he knew he didn’t want that for her, didn’t want to take that from her as well. He couldn’t really think of anything but a damn good kiss and awkwardness that would result from this. He could deal with the latter though for the former.

As many girls as he had kissed, in as many ways as he had done so, it was always different somehow with each girl. The obvious comparisons would be between someone with the passion of Rea and someone with the innocence of Sophia, but even with two people who were physically shy, the emotions and feelings differed. Kissing Sophia was, therefore, a new experience for him, but in so many more unidentifiable ways than just him never kissing her before. There was something else there and as far as Isaac could figure while he was kissing her, which wasn’t really very far – his brain seemed to have lowered in power slightly for the moment – had to do with them being so close before anything happened between them. Or maybe it was because they had been in a fight? But the thought was a little fuzzy, kind of with a haze over it. He decided to push all the analysis out of head though until he wasn’t busy with such pressing matters as her body folding against his weakly.

Damn, it was so tempting to move this kiss along, but after very quickly setting up a few rules to himself, he focused back on Sophia. For a first kiss though, she was really testing his self control. She probably had no clue that her sigh against his mouth, as simple as it was, sent a series of chills through his body, making his breath trip over itself. And the new angle she moved her head to only increased the heat he could feel smoldering under his skin. After a pathetic attempt on his part to get a grip, Isaac gave in slightly, angling his head a little more and pulling his chin down as he inhaled again. By now, he was kissing her harder than he’d first expected he would but still soft enough to not feel like he was rushing her or maybe make her uncomfortable – not that she seemed very uncomfortable at the moment. It was a strange sort of balance trying to introduce her and yet still trying to shelter her from all these feelings and experiences.

He moved his head once more, this time holding onto her lips a little in the process before almost removing them then pressing them against hers again. The thumb of his left hand, which was still on the back of her neck, found its way to the back of her jawbone then across to her soft damp cheek, which seemed to be growing warmer by the second. His right hand struggled to stay in its place on her waist without creeping up her side or running the tips of his fingers across the top of her leggings. Would it really be that bad to just.. no. He denied himself even thinking about anything like that right now, but the thoughts kept prodding him again and again. Eventually with a sigh of an exhale, he pulled barely apart from her, to where their lips were still less than an inch away, though his were slightly below hers. He didn’t move the rest of his body. His breaths were coming a deep inhale and quicker exhale now and with eyebrows raised slightly, the blue of his eyes peeked out from behind their cover to memorize her face, her expressions, and her emotions in that moment. As he breathed out he muttered a soft, “Sorry,” against her lower lip as an added response to her earlier words but he didn’t want to give up the moment just yet and, though it was done quite selfishly, he kissed her again, softer than he had broken off the last one. This time it only lasted a few sweet seconds before he pulled away. It was almost too painful to pull away from her lips twice in such a short time. His left hand dropped back down to her waist, gently resting there as he looked back over her. What now?

This was ridiculous.

Sophia wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. She was so warm and cold all at once; soft, legs like jelly, against the hard lines that defined Isaac's physique. A small whimper left her lips when he released them, and she kept her eyes closed for a moment, savoring the total absence of regret she felt for those brief seconds. Soph knew that such a feeling would come, but she refused to recognize it - yet. Her eyes fluttered open, glossy blue in the shadow that his height cast on her, her lips full from the blood rush his touch brought. Flushed cheeks bled into her hairline, still messy blonde hair falling wherever it felt it should. Everything was frozen for a unique breath in time; she was acutely aware that the hairs on her arms were standing on end as goosebumps lifted on her skin, the warmth of his fingers in the hair at the nap of her neck, the pressure that his hips and torso exerted on her own. It was comfortable. It was terrifying. It was the most real, physical experience she had ever had in her life. And while it scared her more than she could say, numbed her voice as she stared up at his dark, beautiful eyes, she felt her stomach lift in the hope that, while she couldn't let herself have him yet, that, one day, he would kiss her like this again and she wouldn't have to reject him.

She couldn't think about that, now. Not with his mouth on hers once more for a brief, searing kiss, his breath hot on her mouth as he apologized with an agonizingly husky voice that made her lashes flutter to her cheeks, blonde against crimson, before she braved his face again. His eyes were heavy with something she had never seen directed at her in her life; his lips were just as full and inviting as hers. She could feel the heat of his skin sinking through his fingers and the fabric of his shirt, his pants. It suddenly struck her how close they were - why hadn't she noticed before? Panic rose in her but it was quickly suppressed by another, stronger feeling; his mouth was hovering over hers and she could taste him on her lips and she wanted to kiss him again. Her hands slid from his chest to his neck, the other cradling his face, as she stood higher on her toes and took another, his lower lip fitting snugly between hers. This feeling was beautiful. Real. She could feel electricity sizzling between them, coming to climax at their kiss. Why would she have to reject this? Why couldn't she have it?

Because she was just another girl. That thought was the end to her moment of reverie. Just another girl. But why? What if she wasn't? Her lips left his and her forehead met his chest as she took a deep, shuddering breath, her heart pounding even harder than it did when she danced. The blood raced through her veins, still heating her skin, her cheeks. But she was very suddenly feeling like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. "Isaac."

She lifted her eyes to him, clearly fighting tears. "I don't want to be just another girl to you. I don't want this to mean that I'm just another girl."

Isaac was surprised to say the least that after he had invaded her space twice, taken her first kiss, and not felt bad about it, that she in turn not only kissed him back both times, but kissed him again after he thought she would be done. A mix of the surprise of this action and the softness which she used as she first placed her lips on each side of his lower one made his stomach drop as he closed his eyes once again and leaned into the kiss with a very slight moan. Passive or submissive girls didn't make him moan; he made them moan. This was so opposite of how he had [s]always[/s] imagined Sophia and him. She was even new to this, but the movement of her lips certainly didn't seem like it. A natural? As much as he tried to just forget himself and enjoy it, the thought of her kissing him creeping around. Perhaps she was curious about the whole kissing thing. Experimenting with her feelings in a way. In an attempt to acknowledge the thoughts to get them to go away, he made himself very open to the kiss, but allowed her to lead. It was a very peculiar change that resulted in a warm fuzzy feeling and a mix of raw passion and caution that he had never felt. Usually it was one or the other, or mostly one with a hint of the other. But this was like a fight between the two. A very amazing, very appealing fight.

He kept his eyes shut for a little as her lips pulled away. He felt the heat of her forehead on his chest, and his arms tightened around her feeling protective and needy. They were both breathing heavily at this point, Isaac trying to take deep breaths without expanding his chest because it made him feel like she was further from him, even while she was flush against his body. The shudder in his arms was usually a good sign, but he suddenly felt like their actions had caught up to their morals. He opened his eyes when she called his name. He loved hearing his name from her mouth. Sometimes she would say it like he was the only thing she needed in the world. He looked straight upward inhaling deeply, then exhaling slowly. Here it comes. He was such an idiot.

Her eyes nearly killed him. The redness and shine which clearly told him how overwhelmed she was. It couldn’t have been that bad. But her reasoning spilled out of her and when she finished, he moved his right hand to her chin and gently held in his fingers, looking at her directly, eyebrows raised slightly upward in concern. ”Sophia,” it was practically a whisper, ”I need you to understand something.” He paused for a second, gave firm trying to find the words, ”You know me. Better than most people. I can’t – I can’t promise you anything about us right now. Stating my unwavering commitment would be a lie, and lying is the last thing I want to do to you.” He exhaled and looked away for a half a second, feeling a little rotten about having to tell her he didn’t have what it took to make her the only one. He brushed her still flushed cheeks with the back of his fingers, ”But please, please know that there is no way you could be like every other girl to me.” That was a strangely bold statement for him to make. It could have quite a few implications, most of them true, that Isaac wouldn’t be able to bring himself to say outright.

He kissed her forehead softly, hoping everything would be okay between them, then hugged her once more, resting his cheek on the top of her hair. She smelled good. Soft and airy, like vanilla or lilac or something sweet and slightly floral. His eyes closed once more. As many issues as they had, he just wanted to stand there, enjoying the feel of her in his arms and the all around feeling which before now, he wasn’t allowed to experience with Soph. He softly hummed the melody of a song he had created while she was sitting in the room with him a while back. It didn’t matter if she recognized it or not. He was so incandescently happy in that moment that it was more of a nostalgic set-up for himself than anything else. He would remember this whenever he played or thought of that song. It was extremely comforting and rather romantic of Isaac. The side of his mouth felt her hair, hot from her dance and their kisses, and he opened it, words beginning to form before he could really think about them, ”I know it’s not the same as my undying commitment, but would you go to homecoming with me, Soph?” His eyes were still closed, and he realized he didn’t care what people would say about them. About him settling for some girl that didn’t put out, or maybe saying that she was finally putting out. But anyone who was saying that would have their jaw meet Isaac’s fist. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he didn’t even care about Izz’s opinion on this one. He wanted to take her and his sister would have to deal with it. Besides, she would probably drag along some guy Isaac didn’t approve of. He actually didn’t approve of her being with any guy. And yes, he knew he was a hypocrite.