She Breathes the Stars

Chapter Fifteen

Wash, rinse, repeat...

"No!"

My fingers fall open towards Nite, watching with wide eyes as his curious gaze skims over the contents of the page. His own irises have grown so dark that they almost look purple, and I can practically see the constellations swimming within them. They're jumbled and confused, yet somehow have a sense of betrayal in them as well.

My hand latches onto the sleeve of his t-shirt, pulling his hand away from the dusty book as fast as I can. But because I'm an idiot, I accidently yank too hard and Nite comes tumbling down to the floor with me. My shoulder blades bang against the wooden planks, giving my skin a rather nasty friction burn before he lands uncomfortably on top of me, bashing our foreheads together. I only have a moment to process what just happened before he quickly scrambles off of me.

I don't think he saw much of the picture; but he definitely saw enough.

"What the hell Tawny?" He presses his hand against his bruising temple. "What was that all about?"

I clamber off the floor and yank the book off the table, closing it with a satisfying snap and tucking it in the crook of my arm. The tips of my ears are burning with shame and I can't quite seem to look at him in the eye. All I can see is the slow clenching and unclenching of his fists.

"I..." I'm mortified. "Uh, it's private."

I drop my eyes to the floor, letting strands of my hair fall into my face so I don't have to look at him. But I feel his warm body standing across from me, and watch as his socked feet move to get closer. His hands are slack at his sides, but his fingers are twitching and unfurling like he wants to brush the hair out of my face. The atmosphere grows lukewarm.

"I saw my picture in there, Tawny," his voice is suddenly soft and teasing. "Is that some kind of photo book? A diary, perhaps?"

The atmosphere is hot.

I look up, weight falling from my shoulders when I realize that he has no idea what this book holds. But the nervousness slowly crawls back into my chest when I realize how close he's getting. I could count every single freckle on his face right now if I wanted to. Every single eyelash as he strides closer.

"Uh..." I have to keep my cool. "Yeah, sure. It's a photobook of things that I...draw?"

The last word comes out sounding like a question and I silently curse myself in every language I know. But Nite seems to find it amusing, as the right side of his mouth quirks up into a little smirk that makes me wonder how he learned to be so...alluring. Everything about him right now is pulling me towards him.

His face tilts to the side, letting his warm breath rush over my cheek as he leans in. My entire body feels as if it's in overdrive; shivers buzzing from my scalp all the way down to the tips of my toes. My skin feels impossibly hot, and the closer he gets the more I just want to close the distance.

"Can I see?"

His hands reach out, his fingertips running up and down the sides of my arms just like he did the night before. Hours ago, this same gesture was unbelievably calming, but now it's turning me into a mushy puddle of mixed emotions right under his touch. The feeling is surreal.

"No," stern.

"Please," soft.

The hands reach around my back, pulling me into a warm embrace that I just can refuse anymore. He rests his chin on my shoulder, whimpering pathetically like a child begging his mom for a chocolate bar at the convenience store. Only this child is very touchy, for his thumbs start to make little circles and patterns against my hipbone and shoulder blade. The strokes almost feel like letters, but I can't quite make them out.

I know what he's doing. This book will stay pressed to my side and for the life of me; I won't let him get away with it.

Then why am I not pushing him away?

Eyes widening, and with a little grunt of annoyance, I place my hand on his chest and gently separate his body from mine. But his arms immediately pull tighter around me. His hands grip at his own elbows so I have absolutely no room to push him away. This time a pathetic whine escapes my lips, and I feel a puff of warm breath tickle my ear as he lets out a chuckle.

"Come on, Tawny," he chides against my earlobe. "Don't push me away. You weren't complaining last night."

Several curse words die in my throat as my entire body grows warm with a blush. My brain can't seem to focus on anything but how dirty that sentence just sounded, and my limbs feel like jelly in his embrace.

Before I can even register what's happening; my arm goes slack and the book drops to the floor.

Nite moves like a lightning bolt, unlocking his arms and ducking by my feet in one fatal swoop. His greedy hands swipe up the dusty novel and his feet carry him into my living room quicker than I can look. He's giggling like a Japanese school girl while my heart pounds out of my chest in fear.

I'm petrified of what he may find.

I extend my arm, ready to bolt and chase him down. But all of sudden he just...stops. His own arm becomes slack by his side and his fingers unclench, dropping the book to the floor with a hefty thump. His pupils blow up to the sizes of his irises and his skin pales even further. No, it disappears.

He's transparent.

Frantically, I look around the room for a sign that a curtain may be drawn back, but I see none. And my gaze seems to be locked on the place where I can see the couch through his translucent skin, peaking out at me behind his nearly invisible clothes. It occurs to me that he may not have dropped the book, but rather it slipped through his fingertips because he can't touch it.

"Nite," my voice is cautious and careful. "Are you alright?"

His eyes stay plastered to empty space, his feet almost glued to the floor while his fingers twitch by his sides. He looks haunted and just utterly terrified, and I don't know what to do or how to help him.

What happened?

I'm too petrified to move towards him; fearful that he might suddenly move again as this creature that doesn't even look like him. This person's stance is too bold, too wise. And his eyes have a certain glint in them that makes me believe that he's seen some really serious shit in his lifetime.

"Nite," I call his name again.

Without warning his head suddenly turns towards me, movements slow and sluggish. His lips are pressed into a straight white line and his hands are balled into fists at his side. He doesn't look angry, but he definitely doesn't seem very happy. And his eyes...

Are green.

"Are thou talking at me?"

I blink slowly, letting his words settle into my chest. His voice is deep and commanding, but there's a hint of fear in it as well. This person isn't Nite. My Nite isn't afraid to speak, nor is he commanding or threatening in anyway. This man-boy's stance is too tall; too wavering. His atmosphere is too cold. He isn't mine.

"Nite," I call to him again.

But he doesn't answer, and I am once again talking to a broken vessel as the ground swallows me whole.

And I sleep.

Wash, rinse, repeat...

Wash, rinse, repeat...

...........Author's Note............

Hm... I don't know if I like this chapter yet, so please leave a comment telling me if you liked it or not. I'll delete it if you guys aren't satisfied and rewrite it if need be!

Thanks for reading!

-Iridescent