Forbidden Love

A Decision is Made

I spot him, bent over his desk, through the small window above the door. His posture is immaculate, as always, but his head is buried deep in the pile of papers on his desk.

He shifts his weight, running a hand through his chocolate hair. I take a deep breath, pushing on the door to enter his room. He looks up as I enter, giving me a strange look. I evaluate his expression, deciding, after a few seconds, that it's a mixture of both hunger and dread.

He sets down his pencil and straightens up. We stare each other down, assessing the little changes that have been made since we'd last seen each other. I note his untucked shirt and how his hair appears to have been pulled through his fingers several times. The bluish dents under his eyes are vivid. A small smile spreads across his face.

He looks me up and down, surely noticing my polished outfit, one that'd taken an hour to choose. My outfit makes me look older, something that made me feel better about pursuing this... whatever this is.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

I pause, "Are you telling me to leave?" My pulse quickens as he takes a step towards me.

"Not at all," He takes a deep breath, "Quite the opposite actually." His words drive the courage-filled adrenaline in my veins.

I take a step forward and in an act of bravery, touch his arm. He shivers at my touch but takes another staggering step towards me. By now we're nearly nose to nose and the tension is unbearable.

"I want this," He says, his hot breath against my cheek, "I want you."

I move my lips a fraction until our mouths are brushing against each other, "Me too," I whisper, my fingers fumbling for his shirt, gripping it until my knuckles turn white.

He kisses me with the same hunger as before. I return his need as fiercely as I can, pushing forward until I can't get any closer. Our bodies are pressed together like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly side by side.

I break away, gasping for air as my swollen lips fumble for something to say. The first thing that comes to mind. "This isn't right."

He furrows his brows, "Then why did we just..."

"Because we're not thinking of the consequences. If my parents find out about this then they'll kill me. Kill the both of us! And you don't want to lose your job do you? Cause that's what'll happen if they find out about this one, miniscule kiss!" I start to freak out, waving my hands in the air just like my Spanish counterparts are known to do.

"Miniscule," Mr. Romero, ( no, I remind myself that at this point he is definitely not a Mr. Romero but instead a Nicolas) echoes. His eyes are somewhat unfocused now as if he's still processing the information.

"I don't know if I want to risk my education for this-" I gesture around the room while staring, in desperation, at Nicolas's hazy eyes.

"But I do," Nicolas looks up, our eyes lock. Then I know that no matter what, I'll do the same, "What I see in front of me is the most exceptional girl I've ever met and for her, I'd risk everything."

My heart melts and just like that, I'm kissing him again. I kiss him with twice the power and desperation and longing as before. His lips form a rhythm as they move against mine and his hands drift down to the small of my back. He holds me tight and moves the both of us towards his desk.

The pair of hands drifts down to my thighs, where he lifts me and sets me onto the wooden surface. My pulse quickens as he leans forward, causing me to lay back on the pile of thick papers. They spill over the edges and drift to the floor. Yet, it doesn't hinder our movements, our kiss.

Nicolas's hands fumble at the edge of my shirt and that's when I know that it needs to end. Breathlessly, I break away. Nicolas's eyes find mine, pupils dilated beyond normality. It's as if his eyes are black.

"We, we need to stop," I pant, leaning my forehead against his. "This is unreasonable. Entirely unreasonable! I'm not risking my education to pursuit... this." I repeat, my hands gesturing towards the both of us, "Whatever this is. God, what even is this?" I pull away, sliding off the desk. I get more and more agitated the longer it takes for him to respond. Finally, I grab my bag and stomp out of the room. The door to his office slams behind me.

Georgia is waiting, holding a mocha with extra sugar and cream. I take the cup from her hand, giving her a grateful smile before chugging half the drink. I wipe the remnants from my upper lip before glancing at Georgia.

"What is it with you and downing drinks?" She asks, giving me a grin. Her bleached blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun that is one jostle away from uncoiling from its precarious position on the top of her head.

I smirk, "I've had practice."

She raises her eyebrows, "Do tell!"

"Later," I nod, "But first, I have a meeting."

Georgia furrows her eyebrows, "Is this the one you told me about last night? Cause I'm not sure that sounds safe."

"I have to go, Georgie," I stare off into the distance, remembering the fell of his long white fingers around my wrist and the last words he'd said to me, 'Stay safe.' "I have to know."

"Fine," Georgia huffs, "I'll be waiting in the car and watching you the whole time, okay?"

"Of course," I smile, but just thinking about it, my stomach is churning with doubt. What if he tries to kidnap me? Or doesn't even show up at all? I sigh, "I'm gonna explain everything to you tonight," My eyes meet hers. Her gaze is open. Unknowing. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

The club is desolate. Empty. It's almost depressing seeing the unlit sign and velvet rope dividers. The parking lot is also empty, other than three cars; a silver Cadillac, a white van, and a taxi.

The Cadillac, I assume, belongs to the owner. In fact, the license plate says Allure, which is also the name of the club.

The white van is open at the back and I can spot mops, buckets, and brooms crowding the inside.

The taxi is pulling out as we enter and I notice that it doesn't have any passengers. That, I figure, is how he got here.

Georgia pulls into one of the many open spots. She turns off the car and faces me, a wise expression on her face. "Cattie, I love you. You know that, right?" She starts, clasping my hands in hers, "But I think this is a really bad idea. This man, whoever he is, followed you here. He came to the United States because of you, and it sounds like you don't even know him. To me, that's kind of disturbing. He obviously expects something from you and if you don't give it to him, he's gonna take it himself. Alright? A man who flies across the world for a stranger is not gonna take no for an answer. I don't want to see you get hurt, and I'm afraid he will do that. Maybe even worse. Now, I know you're just gonna say 'I appreciate it, Georgia, but I've still gotta go' or whatever, but please just take my words to heart for a moment." She leans back, pressing her lips together.

I nod, saddened by her words. I know that he's bad news... and I know that I have to meet with him, but something about her words gives me pause. What will he do to me? Was his warning and promise for more information just his method of drawing me back. Drawing me back when no one else is here. I shudder, imagining him tying my hands behind my back and dragging me away, never to be found again.

I glance at Georgia, whose eyes are still on me. "Will you come with me?" I ask, immediately regretting my offer. I can't drag her into it. What if he focuses on her now? What if he takes the both of us? To make her come would be too selfish.

She opens her mouth, hesitating before answering me, "Of course."

Before I can protest and take back my words, her car door is open and she's stepped out of the car.

I sigh, unbuckling my seatbelt and doing the same.