Hawthorne

35 - I love you

Camilla White

"I've had enough," Vincent's growl startles me even before the door slamming could.

"What?" I whisper, shocked at his attitude.

"What the fuck is going on? And you won't leave this fucking room until you're completely honest with me. It's been two fucking months of dodging me and avoiding telling me what's bothering you. None of us leaves this room until you tell me!"

It's true. Tomorrow it's his mother's birthday and ever since I read that letter, a couple of months ago I have been avoiding him as much as I can. At least when it comes to communication. I had hoped that he hadn't noticed but who am I kidding? I saw it in his eyes, the frustration... The worry...

Still, I don't want to give it away any more than I did, so I answer, "Vincent... Nothing-"

I am cut off by his hand grabbing my neck. He doesn't press on it, but I can see how shaky his hands are, how his nostrils keep flaring as his angry eyes roam my face. With a few calculated steps, he backs me against the wall, pressing his torso against mine.

"If you say nothing's wrong I'll fuck you so hard, I'll have you scream it out before you can even come."

His eyes swirl with a thin layer of anger, that's only there to disguise the hurt. He's hurting because of me.

But if I tell him the truth... No. I can't.

Vincent will hate me and think I got closer to him just so I could get leverage or something. And that's not true. I don't want it. I don't want anything... Not from him, not from the nobility or the crown. I never asked for anything, for any of this. All I wanted was to be able to love him freely and work my dream job, being a marine biologist.

All my life is a lie, it's bad as it is. Stepping up to strip Vincent of everything he is meant to be?

I can't. I won't.

That's why deflecting is the best option, "If you're that horny, just fuck me."

In shock at my bluntness, Vincent tenses up while his mouth opens slack. He has a good reason for it because in all the months we've been in this secret-or-whatever-it-is kind of relationship. If it can ever be called a relationship. I never used the F word unless he told me to.

It seems out of character because it is. But desperate situations require desperate measures.

Slowly, his grip on my neck slackens until his hand falls to his side and he straightens his body, detaching from mine.

"I won't do such a thing until you tell me what's wrong."

Nervously biting the inside of my cheek, I look away, giving it a quick thought. I could come clean and best case scenario, he'd understand and be by my side.

Worst case scenario? He'd feel betrayed and accuse me of using him as leverage.

"Nothing that should concern you." I end up saying.

"Then why is it that you keep avoiding me?"

Deflect. Deflect.

How can I deflect this?

"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter.

"Little Milla," he whispers, one of his hands caressing my cheekbone. " I can sense that something's bothering you, let me help you. I want you to be alright. I want you to be happy."

Vincent's words pierce through my chest. We've grown so close. Much more than I'd ever considered possible. I've been so close to telling him how I truly feel so many times but it would only make things harder for us. For me.