Love Bites

LOVE BITES Chapter 2 : The Truth of Reality

Then hesitated.

But you're not a kid anymore, Nikki.

My hand recoiled, slowly rolling itself into a fist. That's right. I'm almost 18, I'm not a kid anymore and I shouldn't want to see him.

My hand fell limp by my side. I took a step back, putting distance between myself and his bedroom door. I better not. I didn't want to be a bother.

So silently, I walked back to my room with a heavy weight on my chest. I shouldn't want to but I do. I want to see him so badly.

I fought the urge that had me wanting to return to his door and instead focused on myself. "You need to start that essay, Nikki - no, no, you need to sleep. Ugh, but you seriously need to write that essay... You should-" My stomach suddenly rumbled, stopping me in my tracks and reminding me of the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since I got home from school. "Eat. You should definitely eat," I decided with a nod.

I changed my coarse and headed down the grand staircase that led to the kitchen below. Talking to myself was a regular occurrence; it kept the silence at bay and kept my mind from flooding with unnecessary thoughts. My hand found the light switch along the wall and flicked it on.

I'd lived in this old manor for as long as I could remember, even before my late parents left it in our names. It was large, extravagant and most of all, it kept the cold winds that rattled the trees outside, out. What more could a girl ask for?

Sure it might have also been dark, intimidating and creak a lot during the late hours of the night but how could one be scared when they had that one person they entrusted their life to only a mere bedroom away?

I found the kitchen and walked straight to the fridge. The glass chandelier dangling from the ceiling flickered a few times before properly lighting the counter tops around me.

Leisurely, I pulled both doors of the fridge open and ran my blue eyes over everything on the selves which was... nothing. A few bottles of water, a packet of cheese, a jar of... something. I made a mental note to stop by the shops on my way home tomorrow.

I sighed and leaned my head against the open door, listening to the soothing hum of the fridge's engine. I wonder if he's eaten yet.

I wonder where he's been, I also thought. Where he disappears to on a basis. I hate not knowing everything about him.

I'd already considered he might be visiting other women. It's the most logical answer. Who wouldn't want him? You'd be stupid to look at anyone else. I closed my eyes, hiding the pain. I've accepted the knowledge that he had his own personal life, so why? Why does it hurt so much to think about it?

I fisted my hand and brought it to my chest. I felt my heart, noting the rhythm of the beats it set against my rib cage.

What did he mean to me?

My eyes shot open when I felt soft skin brush past my cheek and a hand rest against my waist.

I watched as an arm extended over my shoulder to grab a bottle of water from the otherwise empty fridge, the seemingly pale skin of the arm belonging to no other.

My heart skipped a beat. I could feel his warmth behind me, radiating from his tall and lean frame. My skin beneath his hand, the hand placed dangerously gently over my waist, burned at the contact, despite there being a piece of material between it and my body. I was frozen in place; incapable of moving, of even breathing.

"You're home," I managed to say around the lump in my throat. His closeness fogged my mind.

His warm breath tickled my neck. "I knew you knew I was home." His voice was so gentle, so smooth, that it made a delicious shiver trickle down my spine.