In Love with the Lynx[Ash Lynx]

Episode 11: First Kiss

How hard is it to let someone go? Apparently very hard, especially when you don't get all the answers. Ash was back and still had not had a word with me yet. I was curled up in my bed, trying to make sense of what was going on. So far I came up with the following conclusions:

1. I reunited with Ash and now I kinda like him

2. Evelyn is a B****

3. A guy named Arthur kidnapped me to get to Ash

4. He is partially responsible for Griffen's death

5. Let's not forget what had happened to Skipper

6. Ash is involved with the mafia and is the leader of one of the most powerful street gangs in New York.

7. Plus he was framed for a MURDER (I wonder what my criminal defense lawyer father would say)

Wow, I am so screwed. I was so occupied in my thoughts that I had failed to notice the door creak open. "(Y/N)," I heard him call. Ash did not flinch when I jumped out of bed. He was calm. Too calm for my liking.

"Aslan Jade Callenreese!" I snapped. "I need an explanation right now."

Again, he was calm. Stoic even, refusing to give an answer. He gently grabbed my wrist and stared at it. He traced his thumb along the markings that the rope had left. I studied him carefully, trying to understand what was going on in his mind. With a sigh, he brought my wist to his lips.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against my skin. He sounded so broken. He looked so vulnerable. 

I tugged my wrist from his grip and pulled him close to me. He stiffened in my embrace. "It's okay," I whispered, "It's okay." He snuggled his face in the crook of my neck as if testing unsteady waters. I waited for a moment for he wrapped his arms around my waist and closed my eyes.

We stood still for some moments.

I felt him pull away prompting me to open my eyes. He pressed his forehead against my own, his eyelids were still closed. 

"Do you trust me?" I asked softly. He should have been the one asking me this question. But the heartwrenching solitude that reflected in his actions pushed the words out of my lips.

He opened his eyes, allowing me to admire the beautiful shade of green. " I do," he said.

"Then, you know that you could tell me anything,"  I said in a hushed tone. There was a tender warmth in our exchange. One so fragile that I was scared it would break. I pressed my palm on his cheek.

Huh? That's funny. He's petty warm.

In response, his palm covered mine, holding it in place. I couldn't but smile. His eyes flickered from my eyes to my lips and back again. He moved a step closer, his other hand rested at my hip. All I could think of was what was holding him back.

He pressed his lips against mine.