Teach Me to Please | Please Me #1

FORTY SEVEN

He scoffed, "What kind of guy?"

"The jealous kind." He didn't answer. "You're acting like I belong to you or some shit. Well, newsflash, dipshit, I can do whatever the fuck I want!" I stalked towards him. "We're not together!" I pushed his chest. "And you're not my boyfriend!" I went to push him again when he grabbed my wrist tightly and stared down at me, eyes blazing like lighting. "Let go on my wrist." I commanded.

He only stared at me for longer, "Let. Go." I gritted through my teeth, and he finally did, yet still kept staring into my eyes. I huffed and turned, walking to the other side of the room. "And you act as if you weren't doing the same with Emily. Did you enjoy dancing with her, hmm?" I turned back around to face him.

"No." he bluntly answered.

I rolled my eyes, "Oh please, you must be crazy."

"You make me crazy!" he burst. I stilled. What? "Christ, for the past few months all I can think about is you! But you're so fucking confusing I don't know what you want, and I've been driving myself insane by it! You are madness, complete and utter recklessness, but you're my recklessness, and I'd dive right into that fire of yours if it was the last thing I could ever fucking feel."

When the words fell from his lips, I found myself unable to breath. Every part of my body froze on the spot as if each letter of the numerous words latched onto me like weights, and all I could do was look at him.

"I'm gonna take a shower." He eventually sighed and shook his head when my time to respond was up. "You can wait downstairs if you want." He shrugged before opening his bathroom door, slamming it so the noise left lingering echoes crawling amongst the darkness. Once I heard the echoes of shower raining on the floor mix in, I finally managed to breath.

   "You're my recklessness."

His.

He said I was his.

I let out another long breath and pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. God, I felt dizzy now. Whatever he had said, it consumed me. Every word, every syllable, it wrapped me up in strands of attentive warmth, roughy whipping me around, plunging me deep in oceans of emotion before gently placing me on my feet in unknown territory.

I realised I was standing in complete darkness as I looked out of the window and decided to turn the lap on by his bedside. A calming, soft light dimly lit the room, highlighting the shadows lurking all around me.

I should go wait downstairs. I began to walk to the door. He said I should wait downstairs.

He also said you were his.

I stopped and braced my hand against the doorframe.

He also said I was his. His recklessness. I closed my eyes and listened to the noise of the shower. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking of me? Was he thinking of what he just said? Was he thinking about what I was thinking?

I turned my head back to focus on the bathroom door. "But you're so fucking confusing I don't know what you want," what did I want? I tried to empty my mind of everything and focus on that one question. What did I want?

I liked it when he called me 'his'. The feeling of it tingled around my body in small explosions of happiness. Happiness.

"When somebody looks at you like that – like the way he does – sweetheart, that boy would take you to the moon and back, all odds against him, if it would make you the happiest woman on earth."