✔ | PAINTED IN CRIMSON | T. SHARPE

SIXTEEN | ANCHOR

I had only read one or two pages when I noticed the snow falling down out of the window. I put the book down and crossed my legs, then, propped myself on my elbow.

"Everything okay?" I was startled by Nicholas' voice, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, you alright?" Damn, his voice was so smooth. I only nodded, feeling my heart pound against my chest, "Can't sleep?" I wrapped my arms around myself as he sat next to me.

"Can't sleep." I stated and he sighed.

"Neither can I." He said, staring at the falling snow, "How's your finger doing?" He asked and I looked down at my hand.

"Doing well, I think . . ." I stretched my hand, so he could take a look, his fingers brushed the back of my hand and he furrowed his brow as he examined it. I wondered if he could actually see it with the dim light coming through the window. A soft bluish hue illuminated the room and it flattered his features even more.

"It looks much better than the day you fainted at my door," he said, smirking and I tried to hold back a smile.

"I see you're not going to forget it that easily. That's only one of the many embarrassing moments in my life."

"Many?"

"You would be surprised if I told you more." He chuckled under his breath. We kept silence for a while. Nicholas took the book in his hands and began to page through it, not really reading a word, but trying to fix the few winkled edges of one or two pages.

"So, what do you write?" Nicholas spoke out of the blue and I realised I was very nervous, jumping at the slightest of, basically, everything.

"I write romance, tragedies, stupid things like those, you wouldn't like them." I waved my hand. I honestly didn't understand why people read my books.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, "I was thinking of taking a break from medicine books for a while and read some of these 'stupid things', as you call them."

"A doctor reading cheesy romance books, sitting on a deck chair on a Sunday morning . . . that's almost impossible to imagine." He chuckled and riffled through the pages and inhaled deeply before speaking.

"Do you know a place where we can rent a car once we get to Cumbria? If you say people are terrified of Allerdale Hall, I don't think we can get there by taxi. And, since we'll arrive late, maybe we can find a place to stay in, a bed and breakfast perhaps?"

"No, I don't know . . ." A smile crossed my lips when I remembered Sam, "But, I know someone who can help us."

"Oh, okay. I'm sure I would get lost, the last time I went to Cumbria, was the day my father sold the property to your parents," my eyes widened a bit and my lips parted.

"You, you were there that day?" I uttered, "You didn't mention it."

"I know." He made a pause, "The day you showed up at my door and told me why you were there, I panicked. I didn't know what to tell you, and we've had so little time to talk about all this properly . . . I never put a foot in the house, though. Me and my father went for a walk in the fields as we waited for your parents. He thought you wouldn't go and we were getting into the car, ready to leave, when your parent's car approached, he told me to stay in the car . . ." He said, closing the book and frowning a little, "I think I saw you . . ." I raised my eyebrows.

"You're joking," he shook his head and slightly smiled.

"No, I did saw you. It was spring and you wore a lilac dress . . . I know it because I remember thinking," Nicholas bit his lip, trying to suppress a smile, "you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen." I couldn't help but laugh.