“Room 45. It’ll be on your left,” the middle aged woman said, smiling as she pointed down one of the brightly lit hallways. I nodded in thanks, too overwhelmed to do much else. My sneakers squeaked as I padded across the white linoleum towards your room. I was relieved as I saw that the place wasn’t too sterile. The walls were a deep mocha, the baseboards decorated with small spiral designs in every color imaginable. Warmth was the first thought to come to mind, but even this was nothing compared to–
No. I wasn’t going there. I couldn’t. Not now.
“42, 43, 44...” I murmured, halting outside your door. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the muffled conversations from behind other doors. I could just barely hear the jazz music blaring in the room next to you, the notes spilling from beneath the wooden door.
I swallowed, my throat seeming to constrict as I raised a hand to knock. The door swung open and all I got was a glimpse of blonde hair before I was flat on my back in the hallway. My head smacked against the tile, my vision going fuzzy for a few seconds.
“Gemma!? Are you alright?” Your voice, gruff from sleep and laced with concern, seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Ow...” I groaned, struggling to sit up, hands reaching for my head.
“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking and you were so close to the door–”
You cut off when I winced, nearly falling back to the floor when my world tilted. One muscled arm wrapped around my shoulders as you helped me into an upright position, tensing when I froze. Even through my sweater I could feel the heat coming off of you, my mind warring with itself as it tried to decide whether to to lean into you or scramble away on my hands and knees. Your touch was an electric shock, seeming to burn me where your arm was draped. A million feelings bloomed in my chest and I couldn’t grasp any specifics, but I knew fear was definitely not at the forefront.
I didn’t have long to debate on either choice because your voice interrupted my sudden whirlwind of thoughts.
“I have some ice...in my room...?” you said, the profile of your face appearing in my peripheral. I found it sort of funny how I could pick out the real question you wanted to ask. “Do you trust me enough to be alone with me again?”
“Okay,” I whispered, attempting to calm myself. I was getting some ice, no big deal. I could do this.
With a sigh I heaved myself to my feet, swaying lightly. Though I knew I wouldn’t fall with your arm still draped securely around me.
You walked me back through the open door and I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I gasped in a lungful of air as the door clicked closed behind us.
The room was nice, having the same design as the hallway. It housed a bed, a small couch, a mini fridge and a sink. I noticed no other door, the bathroom’s probably community style.
“You should sit,” you said, guiding me over to the couch. As I sunk into the leather cushions, I finally found the nerve to look you full in the face.
You smiled when you noticed my eyes on you, yours crinkling at the side. I blinked, staring up at you dumbly before tearing my gaze away, a wild blush igniting my cheeks. I had no idea what came over me as I began to twiddle my thumbs in hope of drowning out your chuckle as you rooted through the fridge.
Your back was to me but my eyes focused on everything but you as if you could see me watching. When you stood I fidgeted, giving in as I watched the muscles in your back tense.
“What is wrong with you, Gemma?” I thought to myself.
“Here,” you said, extending the ziplock baggy full of ice to me. I cursed inwardly as my hand shook when I reached out, quickly tugging the bag from your grasp and placing it upon the back of my head.
Blue gaze never leaving me, you sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows perched on your knees as you examined me openly. I fidgeted, only able to hold your gaze briefly before settling for staring at your shoes.
“You’re here,” you stated, cocking your head to the side. Some hair fell into your eyes but you didn’t brush it away, the strands catching the light filtering in from the sole window.
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered, shrugging in faux nonchalance.
“Why?”
“I just...um...wanted to see h-how you were doing,” I said, hoping you wouldn’t question it. But the wry smile stretching across your lips squashed that hope.
“Why?” you asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I just did,” I huffed, crossing one arm around my torso, my other busy holding the ice.
“I’m doing alright, thank you,” you said, and I blanched. You were going to let it go that easily?
“You’re welcome,” I breathed, eyes wide as you leant forward, just a bit. “You have enough food and everything?”
It pained me how amused you looked at my inquiry. Why in the hell did I care if he had enough food?!
“I’m fine, Gemma,” you assured me. My name coming from your mouth launched me back five years ago, the memories of the desert, the house, the camel and the snake bursting free from the box I’d locked them into.
I gasped, shooting to my feet so fast my head spun.
“I need to go. Classes, I forgot,” I muttered, stumbling towards the door on wobbly knees.
“I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive,” you said, your hands coming down on my shoulders, making me shiver. With what, I don’t know. Or maybe I refused to acknowledge it.
“I’m okay. Thanks for the ice. Bye,” I rushed out, fumbling with the handle before ripping the door open and darting into the hall.
“Bye, Gemma!” you called, voice as rumbling and concerned as it was before. I didn’t turn, picking up my pace to a sprint until I was outside, climbing hastily into my car and peeling out of the parking lot.
What were you doing to me?
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Lovely Letter. (Lucy Christopher "Stolen" FanFiction) SLOW UPDATES
Fanfiction*This is my take on the events that could occur after "Stolen", the wonderful novel by Lucy Christopher. This takes place after Ty is released from prison, then progresses from there.* The world seemed to fall away- in bits and pieces and then shatt...
