A promising night turned into a total shitshow and, honestly, should Salem even be surprised? It might have been his teenage angst talking, but nothing ever seemed to go right nowadays. Salem dug into his pants pocket for the keys to his car before he even exited the country club so he would be ready to go. A big part of him was anxious, his gut roiling as his imagination ran rampant with what could make Marisol upset - and she was clearly upset, considering her text. Or perhaps angry.
It was a relief when he saw Marisol huddled next to his car - and of course, his heart broke when he saw the grief on her face... But at least she was safe and unharmed. He hurried over to the car as fast as he could, jogging slightly to approach to get to her even quicker.
“Marisol…” Salem tried to make his voice strong to be heard over the ruckus of the dance but it came out more throaty and strained. He tried again, “Marisol!”
Salem, the exact instance in which he arrived to her side, asked in a hushed but worried manner, “Are you alright?”
The girl whose attention he was demanding had been resting against the driver's side of the vehicle, staring off in the general direction of the ocean. The argument with Julie kept playing over and over in her head, which only served to infuriate her further. Frankly, she was tired of Sonny being painted as the good guy in this situation. The guy had picked her up, thrown her down and toyed with her feelings, yet she was the bad guy for ignoring his texts? He had completely dismissed her when, in what was perhaps her most vulnerable state, she had confessed her feelings for him. Yet, once again, she was in the wrong for choosing to cut ties with him for her mental health’s sake? Why did she have to get her priorities straight for a person who wouldn’t do the same for her? This whole situation was completely fucking unfair, and it was driving her insane.
It wasn’t until Salem arrived at her side that Marisol finally looked up, realizing he’d been trying to get her attention by asking about her well-being. “Not really, no,” she confessed, looking up at him with still-glassy eyes. “But I rarely ever am these days, so it's whatever…” Mari trailed off. She studied his features for a second and noticed her date was breathing much too heavily for someone who'd walked such a short distance. Upon further observation, Salem also seemed to be somewhat rattled and distraught. The girl's brows met together in a frown. “Are you?”
Salem frowned at her answer, his eyes catching the glassiness of hers. This damn dance was cursed or something, because nothing had seemed to go right so far. “Yeah, no, I’m fine...I just got into a little scuffle. Don’t worry about it.”
The last thing Marisol needed on her conscious was the brief one-sided fight between Salem and her best friend (or was it former best friend?). Salem’s blood boiled just thinking about that smug dollar store Peter Pettigrew and instead turned his attentions back to Marisol before his anger got the best of him again.
“I’m sorry this night has been bad for you.” Salem said, his voice sincere and sorry, “I really wanted your first official homecoming dance to be good...do you want to go to my place and watch a movie, then? I have a popcorn machine and both John Wick movies.”
The mention of a scuffle made Marisol's frown even more pronounced, curiosity peeking from the pissed-off feelings. There was only one person in all of King’s Academy that Salem could have reasons to get into it with, and that person was the very reason for her shit mood. And so, Mari decided to follow Julie’s advice in getting her priorities straight… Her priority was going to be her own damn self.
Completely dismissing his fight, Marisol focused instead on the lifeline Salem was throwing at her. The prospect of leaving this clusterfuck of a dance was a blessing in itself, but to finish her night chilling with the coolest dude at school and her favorite movies? There was no way she would pass up that opportunity.
“You should have come up with that idea earlier, Sal. Would have saved us a damn good amount of grief,” she said with a smile, straightening up from her previous position and walking to the passenger's side of the car. “Lead the way, then,” she ordered before sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the car door behind her. She wanted to put this dance behind her as quickly as possible; and the sooner they got on the road, the better.
The ride to Salem’s house (a humble word for the giant estate) was almost anticlimactic in how uneventful it was. Salem invited Marisol in, was the perfect host by offering drinks and food, and led Marisol to his room to watch the movie she raved about so much. The only place to sit was his comfy bed, but Sal never had problems sharing his bed - platonically, of course.
Salem was never much of an action movie person, but his nonna was fond of them so he had a couple lying around. It was fortunate that the Rivera matriarch was probably a bigger fan of Marisol’s favorite movies than the girl was (he was pretty sure the older woman has a thing for Keanu Reeves). Still, he tried to pay attention to the movie happening in front of him since it was something Mari really enjoyed. However, his brown eyes drifted frequently, sliding past the movie screen like a conveyor belt and landing on the comfortable-looking Marisol laying next to him on the bed.
Being in Salem’s room, in the coziness of his fluffy bed, had provided Marisol with the first good amount of peace since the night had started. The young man had been nothing short of a gentleman, making sure she was comfortable and content. However, the girl was sensing a shift in the mood: an unspoken electricity of sorts hanging in the air between them. Throughout most of the movie, she had spied her host stealing periodic glances at her. And while this had been flattering the first few times, Sol was getting increasingly curious as to the reasons behind it.
“Just because I’m still tipsy and my eyes are on the TV doesn’t mean my peripheral vision is impaired, Salem,” Marisol suddenly said, her voice nonchalant. The brunette shifted her body and attention away from the television screen where Keanu was currently making his entrance to The Continental, and onto the tall young man laying beside her. “You’ve been staring at me on and off for the better part of ten minutes now. You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure you’re peripheral vision is working right?” Salem teased, moving his arm around her back so he could wave it in her periphery from the other side.
Marisol rolled her eyes, but gave Salem a small smile. “I'm certain. Now, are you going to be a big boy and ‘fess up to what's going on, or will you pussy out?” she replied, giving him a light punch in the arm.
Salem grabbed her hand before she could retract it from the punch, holding it within his own two. Her hand was tiny in between his and weirdly soft. “There’s nothing to ‘fess, my little enchilada. I was just admiring.”
He hummed in contentment, laying back fully on his bed and keeping his attentions on her hand. It was relaxing to just play with them instead of letting thoughts of that night swirl in his brain till he vomited from sheer fury. Salem kept entwining their fingers together and releasing them, “You have really small hands. They’re cute. I didn’t know hands could be cute…”
The young woman couldn't help but let out a small giggle, grinning from ear to ear as she watched Salem play with her hand. Mari made no motion to move away, choosing to scoot closer to where the young man was. “Don't let them fool you, though: they can pack a punch,” she warned playfully, her green eyes on his face as she pressed her cheek to the back of his hand.
“Oh, is that so?” Salem grinned. Almost on its own accord, one of his fingers disentangled from her hand to stroke her cheek in the most gentle manner.
He liked seeing Marisol like this - all soft. It made him feel like he and her were the only people in the world; an Adam and Eve in their own reclusive paradise where no one else was allowed. His father and his girlfriend were not allowed, stupid Sonny wasn’t allowed, and…
Salem pressed his eyes shut and tugged Marisol into him with his hand until she was lying on top of him. “I’m cold and, as my homecoming date, you are honor-bound to keep me warm.”
“I’ll be glad to,” she said softly, tangling the fingers of both their hands together as she rested her head on his chest, the top of it tucked under his chin. Here, lying on Sal’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall with every steady breathing he took, she felt safe.
The more time Marisol spent with Salem, the more realized that she was a completely different person at his side. There was no fear of being ridiculed, no need to hide behind hostility and abrasiveness, no worry of having her feelings be disregarded or questioned. She could be unapologetically herself with no hold-backs or regrets: vulnerably strong, gently passionate, and a million other oxymorons that she couldn’t even begin to explain. At his side, Mari felt at peace with the world… A feeling she could definitely get used to.
In that moment, against each other like this, Salem’s mind drifted to their almost-kiss. It might have been the alcohol at the time, but he felt the same need to be consumed by whatever this thing between them was now. It was like his mind was gone and only his heart was beating, thumping against his chest to the rhythm of Marisol’s breathing. As if his heart only knew Marisol, and only cared about Marisol in this moment.
Pushing a hair behind her ear, Salem shifted until Marisol toppled off of him, a trail of laughter following her. With her body laying beside his and her looking up at him, he grasped her chin and his eyes focused on her lips. For a fraction of a second, time was suspended. He didn’t move an inch, as if leaning forward would make this thing real - make this magnetic attraction real. His mind was buzzing with white noise, as if there was some logical reason to not do this, but he couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. Like a switch, his mind stuttered and spurted until it clicked off.
And Salem kissed her.
When Marisol felt Salem's lips on hers, her breathing suddenly stopped, and the heart that was once beating steady now threatened to burst out of her chest. At first, she stood petrified against his lips, afraid that the glorious moment would come to an end if she moved. But when she was still savoring that intoxicating taste of spearmint with a hint of tequila a few seconds in, she knew that the moment happening between them was real as her existence. And with the same enthusiasm, Mari returned the kiss, tangling her fingers through Salem's dark waves and further closing the distance between their bodies.
This must be what drowning feels like, Salem thought, and then he thought this must be what breathing too much feels like. He felt as if he withdrew, if he stopped, then he’d die of asphyxiation. Kissing Marisol was intoxicating - kissing had always been intoxicating to Salem, he found nothing more beautiful than being connected to someone. Salem didn’t think he’d ever felt more connected to anyone before in his life... Not even Gwen.
Gwen.
Salem drew back and reality crashed unto him, threatening to drown him with guilt and disappointment and this strong, powerful yearning. “Fuck, Marisol, I’m sorry - I shouldn’t - fuck.”
People often said that, much like gravity, what what goes up must eventually come down. What Marisol didn’t expected was that the rise and the fall would be so sudden, and that it would sting so damn much. Salem had been different from every boy she’d met before, and she’d blindly trusted him so. Obviously, she’d been an idiot. But if she was honest with herself, in a way, she should have expected something like this to happen. This sticky situation was just a déjà vu of her incident with Jason Weaver in what felt like a lifetime ago. Had she not learned her lesson then?
Judging by her actions? Most definitely not.
Face blazing crimson and hot with humiliation, Marisol immediately shot up from the bed. “It's fine, Rivera, really. It's whatever,” she told him as she walked around the bed to slip on her shoes, her eyes fixated anywhere but Salem. “This was clearly a stupid fucking idea, and I should have been smart enough to stop it. And it's getting late, anyway, so I'll call it a night. See you Monday.” And with a curt, parting wave, Marisol turned on her heel and began to leave Salem's bedroom. She needed to get out before she lost it.
He knew everything about this was a bad idea. There were so many reasons not to do it: it’d hurt Gwen, it’d hurt Marisol, it’d hurt him…(his mom would say it’d hurt his GPA). It had been a while now, though, that Salem had felt this way, hadn’t it? When was the last time he’d felt this connection with someone? Had he ever felt it so intensely? Maybe there was once a time with Gwen, but he didn’t remember it now. Right now, he only remembered this, and the sweet taste of Marisol’s lips.
Words wouldn’t stop her from leaving, and maybe he couldn’t really explain everything running through his head with words. Still, it would have been more pragmatic to tell her to stop or to wait. Instead, he found himself grasping her tiny wrist in his hand.
She was so small against his body when he pressed her against the wall and she felt like a heater against the exposed parts of his skin. He wanted to feel that heat all over him, and he wanted to taste her lips again. He should stop, he has so many reasons to stop and think this over, because this was a bad idea. Marisol was the apple to his Eve and he wanted to -
Salem’s lips crashed against hers for the second time that night, and he poured everything he had into it. Maybe if he kissed her with as much passion as he could, she would hear his thoughts and understand that he wanted to sacrifice it all for her in this moment. In the morning, he will probably regret it… But it wasn’t morning now, and he wasn’t regretting a goddamn thing.
When she felt his hand on her arm, the angry Marisol had been ready to slap him away and storm off. But in no time, he had her pressed against the wall, and had his addictive lips on hers once more. No words needed to be exchanged for Marisol to know that whatever hesitations Salem had a second ago had been reduced to nothing more than ashes in the wind. He kissed her like a drowning man taking his first breath of air, making all of her anger evaporate into nothingness. A wave of longing washed over her now, and Sol basked herself in the feeling of being craved so desperately. Never in her mind had she wanted someone so badly… Not even Sonny Drake.
Without wasting any more time, Marisol threw her arms around Salem and passionately kissed him back, lips heavy with hunger and dripping with desire. It was her turn to make the young man understand she was willing to be his sin, and face the consequences that came with it with her head held high… To Hell with everyone and everything else.
The world had now faded off into nothingness, and her and Sal were the only thing that mattered. What had started off with an innocent kiss had now turned into something that went far beyond what words could possibly explain, and the desperate wanting shared was obvious in the way they so intensely went at each other. The emotions between them gradually intensified with every minute, until they were nothing but red-hot passion consuming them whole. Their hours together became a blur, with Salem and Marisol exploring each other’s bodies until the morning light.
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