On the Rocks

XIX (HAZEL)

It's been a few days since Theo and Dawson basically kidnapped me from my flat. I haven't spoken to any of them. They've tried but I have only responded to questions I need to with one word. 

I would give anything to be in my own bed again but they seem determined to keep me here. I don't know why and I'm sure as hell not about to ask them. I'm quite settled making my own food, going to work and then staying in my room. Thank god for Netflix or I would be bored out of my mind. 

Without the café to go to I feel lost on what to do with my spare time. I used to always go there and read the day away but now it is a pile of ashes. I gave up on trying to go on a run when one of the guys kept trying to join me, saying I can't go on my own. It's suffocating. 

I step out of the shower, my hair dripping with water. I wrap a towel around myself and brush my teeth. If there is one thing I can give them credit for, it's the soft towels. They feel like a massage against my skin. 

Walking back into their guest room, I grab a pair of black leggings and a matching black crop top with long sleeves. I brush my hair and cover my feet in cream fluffy socks. I decide to leave my hair down and let it air dry, only brushing out the knots and adding some product to it.

Fuck, I'm bored.

I could watch Netflix again but I'm running out of things to watch. Peeking out of the doorway, I listen out for voices only to be greeted by silence.

Great. They're not home.

Risking my instinct that they are indeed out of the house, I decide to explore. There are so many rooms in this place. There must be some interesting secrets behind some of these doors. 

I walk past the doors, my fingers tracing each doorway. I stop at the end of the hall, at a large archway. My breathing stops. 

The walls are surrounded by books, with a large grey L-shaped sofa in the middle of the dark, wooden floor. I step inside, my eyes widening as I scan the bookcases. There must be hundreds of books in here. I walk over to a bookcase on my right and brush my fingers over some of the spines.

I find myself stopping at one book in particular: an original copy of Jane Eyre. Its original title: Jane Eyre: An Autobiography. Tingles spread up my arm as I pull the book out, feeling the original leather bounds. Holding it with both hands as if scared to drop it, I walk over to the sofa and open it. My eyes scan over the delicate pages and I cross my legs on the sofa, leaning back into the scatter cushions. 

My eyes begin moving, taking each word in and sending my mind into the world of Charlotte Brontë's mind. I turn each page cautiously, not wanting to miss a single word. 

My bliss is interrupted by chapter six.

"I see you've found the library."

I look up from the book and see Atlas leaning against the archway. I send him a glare. 

"What do you want?" I ask him, my voice filled with impatience. He pushes himself off the archway and walks into the room. I watch him in silence as he sits next to me, spreading his legs and leaning back as if he owns the place. I mean he does own the place... but that's beside the point. 

My eyes involuntarily fall on his face. His dark locks fall down on his forehead and reaches his stubble from the side. His black suit is pristine and inviting. It gives him a look of class but also some sort of ruggedness that I can't quite put my finger on. I can see tattoos peeking out from his neck, making my mouth water along with the muscles threatening to burst out of his perfectly fitted suit. 

Shit. I'm staring. 

"What do you want, Atlas?" I sigh at him, closing my book but keeping a thumb in to keep my page. 

"You already asked that, bambolotta," he says, his voice low and gruff. He shifts himself closer to me and my heart rate increases with every move he effortlessly makes. His face is now inches from mine and I can feel his breath on my skin. His eyes find mine and I feel captured by his stare. I bite my lip and we sit in silence, the tension between us palpable.

"Here," he says as he pulls something from his inside suit pocket. I break away from his eyes and look down to see a bookmark in his hand. I take it and look at it. It's a beautiful stainless steel bookmark with something in Italian engraved:

"Sei sempre stata nostra... Dovevamo solo trovarti"

I must remind myself to google translate that later. I look up to him and see a look in his eye, like he is waiting to see if I like it. He disguises it as quickly as it came. I place the bookmark in the book and set it down on the sofa next to me. 

As soon as I turn back to look at Atlas, his hand is on my cheek. It feels warm and comforting against my cold skin. He brushes a strand of my wet hair away from my face with his other hand and I bite my lip, causing him to stare at them.

Fuck. He looks like he's going to kiss me. 

Fuck. I want him to kiss me. 

"ANGEL! WE'RE HOMEEEEEE!" I hear Andros shout as the front door slams. I jump away from Atlas and grab the book before running out of the library and back into my room. 

I press my back against my door as soon as it's shut, trying to slow my heart rate down. 

What the fuck just happened?

What am I doing?

My mind starts spinning and I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me. Sliding down the door, I sit on the floor with my head resting on my arms against my knees and try to fend off my looming panic attack. 

My dad would kill me if he saw me now. 

By the time I have steadied my breathing and anxiety, it is dark outside. I grab my phone and google the bookmark.

Fuck.

"You have always been ours... We just had to find you."

I can't keep hiding from them. 

They'll always find me. 

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Thank you guys so much for 200 reads!

This is my first story and it means so much to know people actually like reading it!

I designed new banners for the characters.

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