Mr. Berkshire (Book 1 in the For Better Or Worst Trilogy)

Chapter 17

     "What are you doing here?" He asks, looking side to side as if I sneaked in.

     "Scarlette invited me." Well, this isn't the welcoming I had been expecting. At the very least, I expected him to start off with hi.

     "Of course she did." That reply alone is enough to let me know i'm not welcomed.

     "I'll go then. I just wanted to give you this." Embarrassed, I thrust the box into his hands. I need to get out of here. Before I can make my speedy exit, fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me.

     "That's not what I meant." He holds me in place, not daring to remove his fingers from my wrist. Silence falls over us as his eyes wander my figure. Instead of falling under his intimidating gaze, my own eyes begin to wander. From the deep red of his fine fitted suit to that charming grin, he is the devil through and through. Wasn't the devil God's favorite once upon a time? Is that why he is so beautiful? Dark eyes hide the many sins he has committed. There's no denying his chin was sculpted by god himself. Suddenly, the allure of darkness makes all too much sense. "Come with me." He says, breaking the silence. We walk down the opposite hallway, towards the bedrooms at the end of the hall. At the end of the hall, we enter the last room on the right.

     Inside, the room looks like it must belong to a teenager. The walls are painted a dark grey, music CD's cover an entire corner of the room, a canvas and paints are on the other side of the room, art decorates the wall, and pieces of clothing spill from the closet. This room and Roman's room back at his house are similar in many ways, but this room has a touch of playful youth. Unlike his room, nothing is precisely organized. There's a lit bit of something, everywhere.

     "My home away from home." He announces, closing the door behind him. "I tried to convince my mom to make it into a guest room, but she wants to keep everything exactly the same." I smile ever so slightly. So, this is Roman Berkshire, the teenager. I walk across the room, lowering myself on to the edge of his bed where I see a pile of books sitting on the floor. At the top of the pile sits Frankenstein. It's obvious by the flimsy book cover and scratchy writing between the lines that this book has been read well over a hundred times.

     "Your least favorite book?" I ask, jokingly.

     "Ha ha." He sits beside me, looking over my shoulder at the book in my hands. "I'd read a chapter every night before bed, starting when I was nine. After I finished, I would just start it all over again." Attempting to ignore the closeness of our bodies, I continue the conversation.

     "Why'd you like it so much?" I sneak a quick glance at him, noting his thoughtful gaze, then return my eyes to the book.

     "Probably because it proves that nothing is what it seems. Everyone assumes Frankenstein is a good man and his horrifying creature is the monster. But, by the end of the book, we see Frankenstein for who he truly is, a monster. A father who abandoned his child and blamed that child for everything that was wrong with him when they were to cross paths once more. The creature was nothing, but the product of his environment." Without realizing it, my eyes had wandered back to the man beside me, taking in every word as if it's laced with the finest gold. "I promise I wasn't a weird child." We both laugh. Returning the book back to the pile, I turn my entire body to face him, crossing my legs as I make myself comfortable on his bed.

     "Well, are you going to open it or not?" I tap the box encouragingly. My voice reveals my excitement, but my eyes can't hide my nervousness. Truth is, i'm preparing myself for him not to like the gift. After all, a scarf doesn't compare to a mansion.

     "You didn't have to get me anything, Sawyer." He mutters sheepishly as he slowly opens the box to reveal the folded hand knitted black, blue, and purple scarf. I watch closely as he retrieves the scarf from the box, digging my teeth into my bottom lip unknowingly. The silence stretches between us while he eyes the scarf like some kind of rare species that he's never seen before.

     "I know it's not much, but I've noticed you don't wear one and it's super cold here. It's also one of a kind, made by these hands and these hands alone." I flash him my best jazz hands, a nervous smile playing across my lips. Since first opening the box, Roman finally looks away from the scarf and turns his attention to me. The look in his eyes, one of gratitude and a touch of something unfamiliar, sends a shiver down my spine. I gulp, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in my mouth. "What?" I finally ask. A second later his lips are smashing into mine with a feverish urgency which is quickly returned. Everything we've held back for months is released in a matter of seconds.

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