Page 5 of The Threads Of Fate
“What’s his name?” He walks closer to the wall and starts to climb it using the vines sticking to the wall.
“Are you crazy? If my father sees you, he’s going to be pissed!” He laughs at my response and grabs the windowsill, pulling himself up.
Contemplating if I should squash his fingers so he’d just fall off and leave, I decide to go against it and grab his arm, helping him inside.He better not make me regret it.
“So what's his name?” He looks around, ignoring my scowl.
“What’s whose name?” I cross my arms while he walks to the closet in front of my door. He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.
“Troubles in paradise,Vespera? I’m guessing ‘the fight’ had to do with your phone call?”
Annoyed, I hold my head high in defiance, “My personal affairs are none of your concern.” He looks at me with an apologetic smile on his face as he nods, “Don’t worry, love, you’ll tell me sooner or later.” I scoff at him; he just got here, and I already regret pulling him up.
Unashamedly, he walks over to my bed and lies in it. Seraphina falls down the dip in the mattress he created and bumps against his leg. He picks up the doll, and I can feel my heart beating faster. The strange urge to grab her from his hands and shout at him to never touch her again starts to rise up.
I haven’t even seen that doll since I was like, what? Ten years old? Why do I suddenly now feel so protective of it?
“Cute doll, my love, she makes me think of you.” He tries to straighten the crinkles in her dress, the action, and the way he called me ‘love’ is making my heart skip a beat. Does this mean anything?Don’t be ridiculous, you just like the attention.
“What makes you say that?” I ask him, a little too eagerly, to my liking. He places the doll back onto my bed gently and gets up, his hands holding each side of my face, as he puts his forehead against mine. His voice turns soft and smooth, like butter.
“Your skin is just like hers, cold, smooth, delicate. I cannot stop myself from reaching for it; the longing to touch you is always there. You have the same kind of blue eyes, ones that I could find myself lost in forever. The sight of you alone makes me feel unworthy, yet I cannot find the strength to stay away. I could keep going if you wish me to.”
Lost for words, I move away and stare into his dark eyes. He smiles and returns to my bed, lying on it next to Seraphina.
“Why are you here?” I ask him in a whisper instead.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” He counters. Why can’t he just answer my question the way I want him to? I feel like everything he has done so far is encrypted.
“I don’t know you, yet you decided to break into my room and say these things to me, things that only a lover would say while you are no such thing to me.” He lifts his eyebrow at that, the corner of his lip slightly going up.
“I wouldn’t mind being that if you’d let me.” I scoff at his response, who even says that to a person they have only met once before?
“Do you think I’m that desperate?” I snap back, anger seeping into me. Does he really? Why do I care? I shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let me feel those things he’s making me feel right now.
He sighs, “Of course not, I have found myself needing to be in your company, always. I don’t think ill of you.” I stare at himin suspicion. He seems sincere, and I don’t understand why he sounds so perfect, and this scares me more than anything else.
I move forward, picking Seraphina up, and take her place beside him. He seems pleased by that as he smiles up at me. He has such a beautiful smile, it makes me feel insecure, and I hate that.
Seraphina’s porcelain skin feels cold to my touch, but I don’t mind it; it’s actually very soothing, and it’s helping me feel grounded.
“Did you name her?” His question surprises me. Why is he so interested in my doll?
“Yeah, Seraphina, why?” He snorts and moves to his side so he’s lying with his face towards me.
“Are you always so suspicious of others?” What a stupid question. Only dumb people trust everyone blindly.
“Wouldn’t you be if I were to follow you and break into your room? And about that, how do you know I live here?” He seems amused by my question and starts to laugh.
“I know everything there is to know about you.” I frown at him. I don’t even really know myself, so how could he?
“You know,” he moves closer to me. His head is right above mine, and he brushes his fingers over my tender, bruised cheek.
“You could tell me who did this, and in return, I could help you solve the problem,Vespera.” My breath hitches, and I can feel my hands going clammy.
“I don’t know if I can tell you that,” the words come out like a whisper, and I can’t seem to make my voice go louder. One side tells me I should tell him that I can trust him, and I really want to believe that side, but there’s this other side telling me that he’ll find a way to twist my words against me. I wish I could just tell him, I really do, I wish I had that one person in my life that I can tell anything to, that I don’t need to worry anymore about every single word I say, but I don’t and I can’t.
He moves closer until his lips softly brush mine, he tastes of mint and cigarettes. Slowly, he moves against me, the kiss feels like he’s taking in my soul through it, like it’s just us in this room, and we are becoming one.
