The Girl Behind A Mask (Pitch Black Love Story)

Chapter 15

   Fiona's POV-

   Warm arms. I thought as soon as I woke up. I had two, warm arms wrapped around me, holding me close, hugging me tight as I wake up. I don't move my head, to look at who it is. I already know it's Pitch, so I keep my eyes focused on his chest, rising and falling as he breathes. His breaths are calm, slow, and soft but deep, making his chest rise a lot and fall down slow. Before I realize it, I'm breathing at the same pace, same speed, our breaths in sync. My cheeks heat just enough to tell I'm blushing but I close my eyes, hoping it helps and just listen. I listen to the silence, his breathing, his heartbeat. His heart, it's fast for someone who's asleep. Strange, I think as I slowly turn my head to meet with a pair of gold eyes. His eyes, the never seem to cease to surprise me with their glow, their way to have a different emotion hidden in them each time I look at him, their way to make me know who's looking at me without even looking, his eyes are just... Different, better than everyone else's, in more ways than one.

   "Um, morning." I say, quickly looking back down. Why am I so nervous?

   "Morning, you ok?" Pitch asks me, I always seem like something is wrong with me...

   "Yeah, sorry..." I tell him, I feel bad. I always seem like something is wrong and he always asks, it seems like I don't ever ask him. I feel selfish, maybe I am heartless...

   "Sorry? For what?" He asks me, confusion clear in his expression. How do I explain this, should I even tell him? No, it's not important. Doesn't matter, I should just stay quiet. Nothing I say matters.

   "Nevermind. Um... Hungry?" I ask, trying to change the subject, while standing from his lap. Finally, maybe my nerves wil calm down, cheeks go to normal, and my nervousness will go away. Pitch takes a moment before answering, slightly in thought, wondering what he should say maybe?

   "A little." He admits, I smile. Cooking time, what should I make? I mean, I literally have a small kitchen in my room. Possibilities are endless yet limited, I don't know what he likes to eat... I raise my hand I slightly slap my face in frustration, I can't believe this. "What's wrong?" He asks me, pulling my hand from my face. He got there fast, I'm surprised I didn't flinch. "Don't slap yourself like that." He says, worry trying to be hidden with a slightly stern tone.

   "What do you want to eat?" I ask, avoiding his comment or should I say demand? He looks at me, slightly confused I think.

   "Um, surprise me?" He says, or asks. I would but what if he doesn't like what I make?

   "Um, ok." I say, biting my bottom lip, hard. What should I make? "Do you like blueberries?" I ask, I could make blueberry filled roles with vanilla creme on top.

   "Yeah, what do you have in mind on making?" He asks, I come up with the stupidest thing to say as I smile, cheekily.

   "It's a surprise." I say, he smirks and roles his eyes.

   "I shouldn't have said 'surprise me.'" He says, making me giggle as he turns, his side facing me. I can't believe I giggled! I feel my eyes widen and I go silent. He notices and turns his head to look at me. "What is it?" He asks me, confused and curious.

   "Nothing." I say, almost stuttering. I turn around, avoiding eye contact and bring a bowl to the counter to stir the ingredients in. I am just about to reach the cabinet handle to get the flour out but my arms are pulled down and I'm turned around to face Pitch. Obviously, he didn't buy it when I said nothing because his facial expression is worry hiden behind a stern mask, proving he won't let me go until I tell him the truth.

   "Tell me the truth, Fiona." He says, his hands wrapped around my wrists as he keeps me pushed against the counter, arms against the cabinet. I feel like blushing, hiding my face and running off to get away. I hate this feeling, I never have experienced it before which means only one thing and I don't like it. It's scarey, it's dangerous, it's painful. Love. The worst thing to me but everyone always dreams of having it. Not me, I want nothing to do with it. It causes pain, the worst kind and I've seen it hurt the innocent. Change them for the bad but for the good to others, change them like me. It wasn't easy helping them, I did it though. I never let anyone leave me without being truely happy. I have to stop this, get away before everything crumbles and I'm left vaulnerable, unprotected and unmasked. I can't let that happen.