Inevitable Flaw

Chapter 46: Friction

His smile empties into an unobserved area of space. The warm curves around his mouth expire. I sense the lack of oxygen to my brain when the clench in his jaw rises to his temples.

"Why aren't you wearing it?" his eyes shoot at my finger. There is a lot of deprivation in the little ghost of a frown. A craving of offence, anger.

I gulp, loudly, staring longingly at the large coffee he bought me.

"You're engaged," Amani breathes in heavy, the lack of ventilation consuming her eyes as she inhales the massive rock.

I feel fear heavy around the crowns of her face. An emotion I found subtly confusing.

"With Adam?" She asks, her focus still on my hand. I shakingly place it behind my back.

I hold in my breath for a second. The hairs along my nape rise tentatively.

I nod.

There a sliver of fury that slits her in half but she manages a smile. A smile that has no substance as it does superficially.

"Congratulations," she looks at me with void eyes.

I feel guilt festering along my whole body, this releasing anger as well. I wasn't obliged to satisfy everyone. I had just met these people but had yet, advertised myself as bait for their happiness.

And even if, my finger eventually became unworthy of the ring. It itched every time someone lay their eyes on it. I didn't like that sort of attention, never have.

"I don't want to lose it," I look up from the details of the cup to him hovering above me.

He roughly combs his hair to the back, his eyes softening to a summer's sunrise.

"You are fairly clumsy," he mocks and then laughs as soon as I roll my eyes.

I feel an intensity of relief with this distraction. There's not much more I could rummage.

His stature starts to overpower me as I sit in my chair staring ahead at the millions of papers that lay before me.

Theres something of symphony in his presence. I felt less overwhelmed.

He is wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants that fit permanently to his lean figure. It was an attire that comforted exam period.

I find myself thinking of him all day. It has become more of an obsession, an infatuation. He was every where, and now even more so.

I watch him leap across the table to rob the study sheet from my finger tips. He gives me a sweet yet mischievous smile that invites the reddening of my cheeks and then proceeds to scan through the highlighted paper in amusement.

"You know this," he scoffs, lifting my lack of confidence.

There's something of luxury about the way his eyes focus, hair blistering around his head without worry.

"You want me to test you?" He offers, looking up at me with raised eyebrows.

And I realize how normal this all is, even if it isn't. There's a special place of home. The overdose of Xanax returns.

"No, you should be studying for your finals," I eye him before trying to take my paper back.

His reflexes win, the paper now over his head. My lack of height in comparison makes him laugh, the melodious tune marinaded with the little dimples around his eyes, all taking my soul.

"I don't do studying," he narrows his eyes as if this is the most obvious piece of information. But it was.

"How?" I ask, defeated, thinking of all my sleepless hours and weeks of stress.