Page 16 of Unmasked Anarchy
“You’re not supposed to care,” I croak.“Nobody is.”
He shrugs.“Who gives a shit about supposed to?”
Silence falls again, but this time I let it.I catch his eyes, for just a flicker, and feel something that I could so easily get addicted to.
“This is a very bad idea,” I say, my voice hoarse.“I shouldn’t be here.”
I don’t know who moves first.Maybe it’s both of us.But his hand is up, knuckles brushing my jaw with the kind of tenderness that makes me want to scream.I lean into it, just a little.He doesn’t kiss me, but his lips are so close to my ear when he says, “Tell me what it is about you I can’t seem to shake.”
I wish I knew.
My phone vibrates and I know without looking that it’s time to go.I pull away slowly, and Kael lets me.
“I gotta get back,” I say, not just for him but for me too.If I stay, even a second longer, I don’t think I’ll have the strength to walk away again.
Kael nods without a single word.
He walks me to my car and when I get in he places a hand on the roof and leans down, his eyes catching mine.“I’m not done with you.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“I’m married, Kael.This is a bad idea.”
“Friends aren’t illegal,” he murmurs.“I’m not finished until I have who hurt you in my hands.”
I hold my breath, wanting to scream at him to just stop and tell him never to leave all at the same time.
“I should go,” I whisper.
“See you later, sweetheart.”
I drive away, forcing myself not to look in the rearview mirror.
I’m afraid that if I do, I might just turn around, and never look back.
~*~*~*~*~*~
AMONTH PASSES.
A long, slow month.
Kael messages me every single day.
At first, I tried to avoid deep conversations with him, but in the end, I found myself sneaking out late at night to sit by an old tree in the compound to talk with him for hours.He tells me about his club, his life, his family, and how he got to where he is.I do the same.
I have never had conversation like it, and the more time I spend doing it, the harder it is for me to walk back through these doors.
I know it’s dangerous, I know it’s wrong, and in my own head I try to justify it by concluding that I’m not cheating, so I’m not hurting anyone.Yet, deep down, I feel the weight of my choices, the nagging voice that warns me of the consequences.I am playing with fire, and, eventually, I am going to get burned.The thrill of it is intoxicating, a heady mix of fear and excitement that pulls me in despite the risks.
It isn’t enough to stop me.It almost seems like I am walking head first into that fire lately, wanting to see how it will feel when the flames rip up my body, burning into my flesh.There’s a part of me that craves the intensity, the raw, unfiltered emotion that comes with stepping into the unknown.It’s as if I’m testing my limits, pushing the boundaries to see how far I can go before everything comes crashing down.
The danger is real, and yet, it’s the very thing that makes me feel alive, a stark contrast to the monotony that often surrounds me.I know I’m playing a dangerous game, one that could leave me scarred, but the allure of the fire is impossible to resist.It calls to me, promising a release from the ordinary, a chance to feel something real, even if it means risking everything.
My days seem to drag by, my body healing slowly.I can move around now, but there is still a sting of pain if I do too much.The ugly scar across my abdomen is a problem I am refusing to deal with right now.I don’t want to acknowledge it or think about how it has ruined my body.Instead, I choose to pretend it doesn’t exist.
Maturity.
Right?
