Be Rude but Love Me | ✔

CHAPTER 42

I am left alone right now and I don't want to think right now. I push myself off the counter I had been leaning against and make my way to my little sister and her friends.

When I walk into the living room, Yann's playing with Lucy and Russell. I sit down on the loveseat and watch the scene before me, chips in hands. Until Lucy grabs them from me and starts munching on them, throwing some to Russell who wolfs them down in greedy mouthfuls.

When Lucy gets tired of being indoors and offers to go in the backyard, Yann decides to stay inside. She calls him a coward for being afraid of the scorching sun before disappearing with Russell close behind.

His back is to me, his hair falling over his shoulders in soft curls. Unable to resist the pull, I twist a few locks in my fingers, silky and ebony. They're beautiful. Bliss lasts for a few moments until I pull on his hair by inadvertence. He snaps his head to me, surprise in his features until he relaxes. I pull away and recline in my seat, backing. He doesn't stop staring at me though, and no matter how many times I look away, my eyes are always drawn back to the blue of his.

Then he stands, eyes still in mine, and suddenly grabs my hands, yanking me up and slamming me into his chest. A gasp of surprises leaves my lips and my breath hitches in my throat. He smiles, visibly satisfied at having caught me off guard. I roll my eyes at him but smile nonetheless. I stare at him, wondering what he wants to do next. Then, out of nowhere, he lifts me up, and I have nothing left to do but to wrap my legs around his waist.

He carries me into the kitchen as I whisper into his ears, "Yann, what are you doing?"

But he keeps walking, his gait determined. I keep my arms secured around his neck, trying not to fall abruptly as I proceed to unwrap my legs from his waist but he holds them firmly in his hands. I look at his face, waiting for him to look at me but he doesn't. Instead, he arrives in the kitchen, rounds the counter and sits me on the granite top. He stands in between my legs, takes my hands in his and entwines our fingers. I don't stop staring at him as he stretches out our hands, looks at them, keeps looking and then brings them back in between us.

Then he raises his head, allowing me to look into his eyes, to see the emotions that were previously hidden but I can't discern them. I can't seem to get what he says to me. He keeps playing with our hands, intertwining our fingers then flattening our palms.

As he continues his game, he whispers to me, "You shouldn't want a nobody, Tracy." He keeps playing, keeps moving our hands around but never raises his head to me. "Those supposed feelings you have, they're just pure fantasy, right?"

When I don't answer, he at last lifts his head. "They're not," I find myself saying after a while. "And you're not a nobody."

His eyes gleam, and I wonder whether it's from emotions or from the sunlight. He looks past me, staring off into distance. "Black sheep of the family, never fitted in, never will."

"Sometimes we don't have to fit in. We don't have to let ourselves be molded. No one wants to fit in a box." I say then rethink my words, thinking of people that try too hard to be something so I add, "Except those who do."

He smiles. "Do you store your wisdom for the right moments?" And his beautiful eyes capture mine. I know he's dodging the topic so I don't press him, I promised him he could open up when he felt ready.

I shrug and grin at him. "Maybe."

He lets go of one hand and reaches up to cup the side of my face, and I obediently lean in, savoring the touch of his palm to my cheek. Then he says, "My feelings for you..." His words die in his throat and he shakes his head as if he can't finish the sentence. "I can't get you out of my mind."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

And he smiles grows even wider, more handsome, digging two dimples in his cheeks. "I'm not sure," he whispers.

He leans his forehead against mine and touches his nose to mine. I inhale, I exhale, in and out, mediocre attempts to calm down my racing heart. I want him, I know I do. But does he? My uncertainty about his feelings, all those questions in my head, they make me want to pull away, to stay away for a while, until I figure out what I want to do. But when he touches me, all I can focus on is him.