Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Drabbles
His fingers feel a little rough and a little soft at the same time as he runs them along her jaw carefully, barely brushing.
Rough – skater fingers, skin constantly bruised and coarsened from lacing and unlacing, tight and tighter, morning and evening. (She’s missed that – no roughness with Evan; he has an assistant to lace up his boots.)
Soft – because Johnny is very thorough with his hand moisturizer. (She’s missed that – no softness with Evan; he’s too concerned with his masculinity.)
They kiss – three years since they last did and it still feels a little right. Johnny’s hands are threaded into her hair now, a little gentle, a little not, as if Johnny was afraid she might run away again. (She’s missed that – no desperateness with Evan; he always seemed to take her for granted.)
Suddenly, Tanith can’t help but wonder what The Rivalry is really about.
She smiles against Johnny’s mouth, a little bitter, a little shocked that she spent so long participating in the Let’s Pretend game. She’s never been a good actress, anyway, not when she unlaces and steps off the ice.
(She’s missed that – no pretenses with Johnny; with him, things have always been for real.)