Page 134 of Fixation
The pipes hum. Water pressure shifts behind the wall.
I blink up at the ceiling, wide awake.
I must’ve slept, technically. But it doesn’t feel like it.
It feels like my body’s just been…waiting.
Truth is, it has.
I’ve tried to resist it throughout the day, ever since he shoved his fingers down my throat.
In record speed, I had my last two custom orders packed and ready to ship. After they were done, I sketched, soldered, and polished pieces from my new collection.
Anything to keep my hands and mind busy.
I should be happy. Everything’s coming along nicely. So much so that the collection is almost done.
I am happy.
I’m also hyperaware of how my obsession with Anderson has become a real thing.
How, between one piece and the other, I’ve checked the time to see how much longer he’d be at the hospital.
How I looked at each new sketch and felt like I didn’t just want it out there. Like I wanted to birth it.
Our love child.
It’s insane. And true.
The type of silver I use is steel gray, darker than usual. Every design has a cutting edge to it. Every piece has crimson and black gemstones embedded in it.
The color of my hair intertwined with his dark eyes.
His darker presence.
I’ve missed him.
“Enough is enough.” Yet my eyes can’t help but snap to the wall that connects our houses. A frustrated groan ripples from me. “No. More.”
At this point, any distraction will do.
I’m out of bed, ready to start the day early.
Then a low, manly sound stops me in my tracks.
Anderson.
It shouldn’t matter what he’s up to.
It doesn’t.
What I should do is keep going. Ignore this pull I have toward this monster. A man who deals with other monsters; who could ruin my life if I only let him.
“Fuck.”
That one, muffled, barely audible word, and I’m already there, in my bathroom. Drawn, addicted,wanting.
Water must drip over his lean body as he stands beneath the showerhead, the same one I stood under days ago.
