Currents

Twenty-one ~ Victim

Twenty-one ~ Victim

"Alastair? What are you doing here?"

My muscles seemed to freeze, rendering me motionless. Why? Why today? Why now?

"Rosa, baby." He hurried across the room and took both my hands in his. "I feel so bad about Daisy, and it's made me think about what an awful boyfriend I've been in general, leaving you out here by yourself. I needed to see you. I need to make things up to you."

His words barely registered. He was here. Alastair. After eight weeks of only seeing him via Skype, all six foot two of him stood before me in the flesh, though hardly recognisable as my boyfriend who dressed impeccably with a perfected poker face.

Wearing a wrinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top buttons undone, Alastair carried an expression of apprehension that I'd never seen on him. His hands still clutched mine, thumbs rubbing over my knuckles, but the tremble reverberated through my static limbs. He was waiting for me to talk, his blue eyes flickering with worry as each tick of the bedroom clock emphasised the growing silence between us.

When my body caught up with my mind, I pulled my hands free and cleared my throat. I twisted to push my door shut, then advanced across the room to close my balcony doors, too. Once satisfied we had total privacy, I turned to Alastair and folded my arms. 

"You look good," he said, his gaze sweeping over my figure in a way that suggested appreciation rather than lust. 

"Why are you here? Don't bother bullshitting me, Alastair."

Hurt flickered across his face. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"You hooked up with Daisy again. Why would I be happy to see you?"

He flinched, then closed the distance between us before I could react. 

"Rosa," he said, his voice soft and his hands cupping my cheeks. "Please... I know I'm possibly the world's worst boyfriend, and I'll be the first to admit you deserve so much better... But I love you and I want—"

"You don't love me, Alastair." I yanked my head out of his grasp and took a step backwards. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have slept with her last time, never mind doing it again—knowing how it hurt me before. I mean, it's twice I'm aware of, but tell me the truth: how many times has it actually happened? And don't you dare lie."

Fearful eyes flitted around various features of my face, no doubt trying to read my thoughts. Business had always hung over our relationship, and even now Alastair was using his boardroom skills to determine which course of action to take in a risky scenario.

"Twice." He shifted his focus to the floor and wrapped his arms around his torso, shoulders hunched.

"Twice?" I straightened up, latching onto the unusual power shift between us. "You're sure?"

"Rosa, I promise you," he said, wide eyes meeting mine again. "I don't even know why I did it the second time. Selfishness, she was available, she was all over me... You've seen how she can be."

"You're such a victim," I said, not bothering to hide the bitterness from my voice. 

"No, I don't mean it like that," he replied in a hurry. "It wasn't like the first time when I did it because I was panicking about feeling trapped. I got caught up in the moment and it just happened. Afterwards, all I could think about was you and how much it was going to hurt you, how much it hurt you last time and what a dickhead I was for putting you through it again. I felt sick with myself. I still do."