La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

24. Web of Lies, Tears of Deceit

"Yeah," I said, nodding his head at the parts of the machine that he had disassembled. "It looks pretty cool."

The young man chuckled.

"I wasn't talking about the machine," he said, giving me a suggestive look.

He knew. It was almost as if he could read my mind. Well, there was no use denying it now.

"Yeah," I muttered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. "You're pretty hot, okay?"

The young man only tilted his head to the back, a smirk on his lips. He always loved to get cocky when his ego was inflated.

"You know what," Leslie said as he threw down the pliers that he held in his hand. "This can wait."

With that, he nearly lunged at me, taking me in his arms. I knew where this was headed, and as much as I wanted it, I knew I'd regret it. Doing it in some dingy storeroom, trying to hide from others. . . it wasn't something I wanted. Yet his hands slipping under my shirt made it difficult.

I managed to spit it out anyway, mustering every fibre of strength I have left within me.

"Leslie," I called out. "Stop."

He didn't listen. Nuzzling against my neck, he planted a kiss on my skin. Maybe he didn't think I was serious.

"That's enough," I said firmly. "Let go."

As if there was some kind of reluctance, Leslie finally stepped back from me. His eyebrows were furrowed.

"Didn't you just say that we're going to have sex?" he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

A part of me wanted to just bend over and let him vent out his frustration on me, but I knew it was something that I wouldn't enjoy.

"Yeah, about that," I muttered underneath my breath, almost ashamed of saying those words. "I changed my mind. I don't think I'm ready for this yet. Not now."

"But you said you were earlier," the young man protested.

I noticed his shoulders drop as he heaved out a disappointed sigh. I felt slightly bad, knowing that he had wanted this for quite some time now, but what worth was it if I were only to feel bad and regret it after?

"Look," I said, grabbing onto his sleeve. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Well," the young man said. "What's wrong with me?"

He pointed to himself, moving his palm downwards in front of him, gesturing towards his body.

"Did I do something wrong?" Leslie continued. "Did I say something to put you off?"

"N-No," I replied. "It's not you."

"Then what's wrong?" the young man asked. "You okay?"

"It's just that I don't feel like doing it," I muttered. "It just doesn't feel. . . right."

The young man bit his lower lip, his hands on his hips. But before he could respond, the door at the far end of the room opened. I could hear two voices, one male and one female.