Reece's Haven

11

So why the heck is he doing what he is doing?!

"Then get off of me!" I yell.

"No. You bit me!" he snaps.

I continue to thrash but he does not budge.

"LET GO OF ME! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

The bloody idiot covers my mouth again.

"MHMM! MHHHM!"

"Dorothy," he says.

His eyes suddenly lose the shine, becoming darker and more hollow. It's intimidating how he can change his expression to a more dangerous one in a matter of few seconds.

"I hate you," he spits.

I frickin' know! The feeling is mutual!

Then, unexpectedly, he lifts his left hand and caresses my right cheek. His dark eyes now seem to be in a daze as he looks at me... warmly?

"I hate you for making me want you."

Yea yea, I know —

Wait... What?

My eyes widen.

"You left me Dorothy," he croaks. "You... You hurt me. I missed you. I waited. Damn, I always waited. And then you finally come back after seven fucking years."

What...? What is he saying?

"When I saw you that night..." he continues. "The first time after seven years... I thought I was dreaming. Then I saw you in your garden... When I touched you... It hit me. You were finally back. You finally came back to me."

It's as if his cruel façade has melted away, leaving behind a very vulnerable Reece Walker. I have not the slightest clue of how I should react to this new information, but my body seems to be reacting to this whole situation. My heart feels like as if I have just run a whole marathon.

"And damn, if beauty were time, you'd be eternity," he adds, mumbling.

And just like that, Reece Walker manages to break down my tough walls. The little Dorothy within me is now attentive and ready to embrace him. Gosh, I'm finding it difficult to breathe.

"You're perfect," he continues. "Perfect for me. But then you told me you did not want to come back... Funny, isn't it? I thought of you for seven long years while you forgot about me and stayed at that fucking boarding school. You discarded our friendship like... like it meant nothing to you. And because of that..."

He pulls his hands away from me. He turns around and sits at the edge of the bed with his back facing me. I sit up, staring at the back of his head.

"I want you to suffer. I suffered, and now it's your turn to suffer. But it's so hard to see you suffer," he whispers.

"Why?" I say.

He stands up and runs his hands through his hair.

"Because," he replies. "You're always... always making me want you. I..."

His breathing becomes ragged while my eyes become watery.

"You what?" I demand.

"I... Dorothy Sherman, I think I failed to hate you. In fact, I might just..."

"You might just...?"

"I might just love yo–"

And then he leans down and, with a horrid sound, pukes on the floor. Snapping back into reality, I grimace, trying to not look at him.