The Watcher

38. Ice Cream Daydreams

"What?" I asked, subconsciously dabbing the edge of my mouth in case I'd somehow managed to smear ice cream across my face.

"I like it when you smile," he said simply.

I blushed and shifted on the sofa. "Everyone likes it when people smile. It's human nature," I said, but I froze and flashed him a look as I replayed what I'd said. "Sorry... I guess sometimes I forget you're not human," I mumbled.

He didn't skip a beat as he replied, "Sometimes with you I feel like I am."

Any rebuttal caught in my throat. Trapped by the sentiment behind his words. Before the silence could turn stale, Atticus asked, "What were you thinking about? Or does ice cream always make you smile?"

"Ice cream makes every girl smile," I replied while the memory of the ice cream parlour passed through my mind, with its magnolia signage and plumes of ice cream on display behind the glass cabinet.

I glanced at Attius and continued, voicing the memories in my head. "I was just thinking about this ice cream place I used to go when I was little."

They were perfect days, when I was young enough that all a day needed to perfect was an ice cream, but they all stopped after the car accident we witnessed driving back from my aunties. Since that night, my mum never drove. So, just as she said goodbye to her freedom to go wherever she pleased, I said goodbye to days at the beach and ice creams.

I couldn't remember much of the accident, but I could remember the chill of the night air as we waited for the emergency services to arrive, and the look on my mum's ashen face while the police officer took her statement. They'd asked me too, and despite the years I could still remember how indignant I felt when I saw the glimmer of distrust in the policewoman's eye, while I told her what I saw. Which is odd, because I could remember that feeling, but I could never remember what I'd seen.

I took a final spoonful of ice cream, and as I licked the last remaining melted trails from the back of the spoon, I felt a pain shoot through my head.

"Ah brain freeze," I gasped, as I planted my palm against my forehead. Whether it worked or not, I felt like the warmth of my palm helped.

"Are you OK?" Atticus asked with a frown as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I smiled at his overreaction. "I'm fine. It's just an occupational hazard of inhaling ice cream."

I glanced towards him, but the pain continued, splitting my head in two. "Fuck me, that just keeps going."

I clenched my eyes shut and eventually the pain eased. When I opened my eyes again, I caught the flash of concern on Atticus' face, but it quickly dissipated when we both realised the space between us had shortened to mere inches.

Suddenly for some inexplicable reason, the atmosphere between us changed, charging with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing altered. His head turned fractionally toward me, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. I bit my lip against the tingle running across it, like the urge to press them to his.

He inched a little closer as did I, and I felt the heat of his body near my own, our lips so close to brushing together.

Slowly he reached to cup my face in his palm, gently turning my face to his as we came together like magnets.

This kiss was nothing like the one from last night. When his lips met mine, they were slow, soft, and dancing that delicious line between frustration and satisfaction. His tongue swept across my lower lip and with it I tasted the delectable sweetness of sugar and vanilla mixed with something unidentifiable but intoxicating.

In slow, lazy movements, fitting for the muted morning light, we moved together. Him, yielding to my will and falling back against the sofa, and me hovering above him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

Unlike last night, there was no destination in mind as our bodies moved together. And with that aimless pleasure came a feeling of relief. My mind didn't wander to what would come next, it just indulged in what was happening now and how amazing it felt.

Inch by inch, button by button, my fingers popped the buttons free from their slots and revealed the toned expanse of Atticus' chest. When they had space to explore, my hands roved over the firm surface, revelling in how his muscles tensed under my touch.

Lightly my fingertips skated over the tattoo covering his left pec and as they did, I felt a tingle tickle the surface as they made contact with the ink.

Drawn to the unusual sensation, I pulled my lips from his and retraced the shape, marvelling at the difference between the tattoo and bare skin.

"It's the mark of a Watcher," Atticus said as he noted my interest. "We're all branded with it when we make our pledge in exchange for our book."

"They branded you? Why?"

"It binds our energy and it's a reminder of the four rules we must follow." He took my hand in his and gently traced the shape imprinted on his skin.

"Treat all orders with confidence." He led my finger along the curve that formed a c amongst the pattern.

"Execute all orders with due diligence." He continued as my fingertips passed over the corresponding D shape that was formed by the central line and S shape.

"Live in secrecy," he said, "and above all else, follow the orders with absolute obedience." He added as our fingers traced the outer circle that held the symbol within it.

My gaze scanned how all the components came together in the simplistic design. "Those four tenets form the pillars of our whole existence, and to breach any one is a punishable offence," he finished.

"Like when Olivia said Aslo committed a breach of diligence?"

He nodded gravely. "A breach of diligence can be pardoned, depending on the severity, but the others... they aren't so easily forgiven."

I should have been focussing on all he'd risked, but all I could think was that it didn't make sense. Why would he risk turning his back on the only life he's ever known, the rules he's lived by, just so he could talk to some bitchy bartender with a mild drinking problem and withered heart.

"Hey, talk to me," he said as his hand dropped to my thigh.

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would you risk everything just for..." For fun, for a hook up. For me.

His eyes met mine, open and honest, and a lopsided smile lit his face as he said, "Some things are worth the risk."

There were no lies in his eyes. Not even a flicker of doubt, and in that moment, I realised, if I just let go, I could love this man. Not the kind of love that's just fuelled by lust (fast, furious and fickle) but really love him. If I could just move on from the past, I could see that lopsided smile every day. I could listen to those sweet words and never worry that they were just platitudes. All I needed to do was let myself fall and trust him enough to know he'd catch me, just like he did on that day in the bar.

Still, Rome wasn't built in a day, and I wasn't going to be fixed in a matter of seconds, but in that moment, I made the choice to try. And as my lips sought his, on this hazy November morning, it felt like the sun shone a little brighter.