I was very much attracted to Mr. Horton.
It was certain.
At least, I thought so, until the doubts began to surface at the back of my head.
Was I attracted to Dwain?
And even if the answer was an obvious guess, what peculiarity about Dwain got me head over heels for him?
Maybe it was his smile which was all I'd dreamt of in a man. . .tender and sweet with just a perfect hint of amusement.
Or the way he looked at me so beautifully without ever flinching.
He always had soft eyes for me which was very different from the hostile glare he shot at others.
He was hotheaded, quick to anger, and silly, not what I wanted in a man.
It was unfortunate that life gave me what I never asked for, even though there were plenty of options out there to choose from, yet I won't trade Dwain for any amount of silver or gold.
I couldn't hide from my guilty pleasure.
Dwain had become my ultimate happiness.
To be fair, he was my world.
Maybe I clung to him because of the validation I had in his sight. . .the long-lost validation I sought from my parents, but they won't give me.
Even at that, being the apple of his eye, I still wished to let go.
Was it a weakness to want to let go?
Did it make me a bad person to want the thrill of taking risks or to be loved even at the expense of others' happiness?
I should be a fool for asking myself these questions.
Just thinking about them made spiders crawl all over my body and shove their dirty tentacles into my mouth.
A lump built up in my throat.
I wanted to puck, not even because the questions were stupid, but the fact that a part of me was prejudiced towards Dwain.
This man had taken over my senses with his charm.
I shouldn't have second-guessed my choices in the first place.
I knew the consequence of returning to the Horton's mansion so well that I could list them off my fingers from memory without making a mistake.
I'd accepted my faith and come to terms with it.
There wasn't a way out to love Dwain without taking the risk of lying to him.
Was I wrong?
Bits of sweat built up across my face, before tracing beelines onto my neck and raced down my back, but I couldn't move to wipe it off.
My clothes stuck to my skin like leeches.
I was drenched from head to toe.
It was very uncomfortable.
I should have taken a bath.
This was my clue to jump out of my head, but I couldn't.
My efforts were in vain.
Every struggle to get out of my head made my breathing worst.
I was short on breath.
It sucked to be out of control.
It even sucked more to be helpless.
It also sucked miserably to be glued to the same spot and not be able to move a single limb.
I was stocked.
Like a rope had fastened me to a chair, I couldn't shake.
It was pure torture to have thoughts racing in shambles before my eyes, buzzing out the silliest of things, and pointing accusatory fingers at me.
From time to time, I envisioned being lost in my little universe, just me against my thoughts, and passionate fantasies.
But facing sleep paralysis had never been part of the equation.
Going through sleep paralysis was hopeless and the episode seemed to last for an eternity.
Before that, I'd tossed and turned throughout the night in search of answers to a trend of questions that won't let me sleep.
Was I selfish?
Did I have to be selfish?
Was love worth the pain?
Was I worth Dwain's time?
Was lying worth it?
The choice was mine to make.
I could stop this chaos by doing one thing.
The very thing Mr. XY advised me to do.
He said it was an easy task, as easy as saying out loud the letters of the alphabet.
Yet, on a difficulty scale, counting from one to ten, it was a ten.
Yes, a big ten out of ten.
I was asked to spill the truth about my identity to Dwain as though it were the most basic task to tick off on a bucket list.
Telling the truth to Dwain wasn't as basic as it seemed.
It was hard. . .pretty hard it won't even be fair to compare it to an advanced placement algebra test.
Yet, it was the finest thing to do.
Sure, saying the truth would have been the finest thing to do if I wished to land in a grave the second the truth was out of my mouth.
Knowing Dwain's rapid temper, I couldn't risk bearing the consequences.
What if the truth brought nothing but self-loath?
Such a mind-blowing reveal will just add salt to his wounds.
Worst of all, I'd pissed him off before he went to bed.
Moreover, the timing was bad.
My insecurities were the death of me.
Making an appearance at Horton's mansion might have been a good idea from the start, but after reconsidering some options, I began to regret my actions, hate myself, and question my motives.
I acted out of selfishness and frustration.
What about Dwain's happiness?
Did I ever consider his feelings?
And how he will be devastated by the truth?
I couldn't stand the slightest thought of him rebuking me for my actions.
Maybe I was quick to make a decision.
I should have thought it through before concluding to leave Anna's apartment for the mansion experience.
Elisabeth had talked me out of this nasty idea, but greed and stubbornness got the best of me.
Shouldn't I have listened to her?
It wasn't up to a day since I'd returned to the Horton's mansion, yet my walls were already crumbling to pieces.
How long will I last hiding the truth from Dwain?
I was pretty much convinced to live a lie till Dwain's contract with Elisabeth was over, but doubts about the credibility of my actions crept in.
I didn't foresee the guilt to be this bad.
Did it make me a monster to want happiness?
Apart from heaviness, there wasn't any other feeling in my chest.
I shouldn't have gotten involved with Dwain, but I did.
And like catching feelings for him wasn't even a big deal, there was also a lie to keep away from him.
Why did romantic relationships always come with a price?
Someone nudged me awake.
Help at last.
I nearly leaped with joy onto whoever it was as a sign of gratitude and hold him/her in a tight embrace.
Long story short, nothing happened.
Guess what?
Nothing always happened because reality had a special way of spitting on my face.
It took me a couple of failed attempts to finally snap out of the sleep paralysis and adjust to the brightness impairing my peripheral vision.
I caught a glimpse of the blurred figure squatting down next to me.
Whoever it was, a thief or an alien, they had saved my life.
And for that, I was grateful.
What, grateful?
What if it were a ghost?
My eyes went wide scrutinizing the walls and chairs from across me.
I'd fisted the quilt covering my lower limbs with one hand, dug my nails into the fabric, and pulled a protective cushion over my head.
Only for it to occur to me that I napped on the couch for a while when Dwain went upstairs for his bath.
I released a throaty breath, briefly tugged at my shirt, and closed my eyes as a cold breeze washed over me.
I must have forgotten myself and dosed off in the living room.
My fears were gone in a matter of seconds.
Although the memory brought comfort, I wasn't fully at rest.
I needed to know one last thing.
Who saved me?
"You are sweating."
The crouched figure on the floor tossed a couple of wipes at me and rose to stand on his feet.
His height went on for a good number of miles before stopping to tower over me.
I knew it will be him.
I just felt it deep in my bones.
And it was truly him.
He gulped. "Just clean up and you will be good."
He said it so casually like it was a normal thing for him to toss wipes at a lady and watch her clean herself.
His tone of voice was distant.
Almost down to earth and rigid, so much rigid that I thought he was still mad at me.
If that were to be true, he won't make it to purgatory because my knuckles itched to punch into something. . .something human, huge, and handsome. . .handsome in a very charming way.
I bit my lips. "I won't mind a little bit of help."
What the hell was wrong with me?
I couldn't be flirting with him when every part of me screamed guilt.
I had to behave like the good girl I was brought up to be.
It was just one of those hormonal moments.
Everything will get back in place.
A little concentration, some discipline, and a change of scenery should do the trick.
But, nothing worked.
I'd been played.
And the situation was frustrating.
I just wanted to move toward him and close the gap between us.
Yet, I stayed rooted in the same spot.
It was impossible to resist a beautiful man parceled like a cupcake in his flashing pajamas.
"It's alright if you don't want to help."
My head hung low when I got no reaction out of him.
I sulked.
He was playing hard to get and sought after me to fall for his games. "Must you be mean?"
He took a step back with slow deliberation and looked me up and down.
His inspection seemed to last for hours though it must have taken only a few seconds.
I couldn't decipher his facial expression.
"Why didn't you come to bed?"
I fooled around with the hem of my shirt.
My brows furrowed into a thin line as I pieced the puzzles together. "Someone was having a bath, remember?"
Something about him was distracting.
Maybe it was the way his arms flexed out underneath his pajamas while he poked his ears or it was the way his chest stood like a mountain of rocks in front of me, completely blocking the staircase.
Whatever it was, I needed to get it out of my head before I misbehaved.
Gosh, it was difficult to stay calm.
His stare lingered on my lips for a moment before lifting to my eyes.
At this point, we were eyeballing each other.
What will his high cheekbones feel like in between my palms?
Will they wound my fingers?
He searched my gaze as though he could see my soul or read my mind.
Mission impossible, hence, he gave up.
His puppy eyes pulled together. "Are you mad at me?"
I swear I got lost in his lovely regard.
The dent on his cheeks was long gone.
Sadness had loomed over his face for a while before drifting away. "Is that why you chose to sleep on a couch?"
"Me? Mad at you?" I stuttered. "Why should you even think of such a thing?"
I couldn't help it.
I was drawn in by the force and pressure of the affection in those damnable blue eyes.
The air between us thickened.
That was when I moved.
Emotions got the better of me.
I threw my arms around his torso in a tight hug and buried my face in his chest.
His hands didn't wrap around my waist immediately, but I expected that so I squeezed him closer. "Instead, I thought you were still mad at me because of what I said."
I didn't stop sobbing as the events paced through my mind as though we had been carried back to that special moment when he confessed his feelings for me.
I murmured. "I was inconsiderate of your feelings. I'm sorry."
His body stiffened.
He wasn't expecting those words to come out of my mouth.
I couldn't blame him.
If asked, he would have sworn to be daydreaming.
Knowing who Elisabeth was, she won't apologize for her wrongs.
This was new to him.
My vulnerability was something he hadn't anticipated but he handled it so well one would think he was excellent at adapting to changes.
I could only imagine what went through his head.
It must have been tough for him to process the sudden change in my behavior.
Each step forward with Dwain made me realize how difficult it will be to make him accept the truth.
Will he let go of me?
Will he still pick me?
I couldn't help but wonder if I was making a mistake.
Will my actions take Dwain away from me?
How could I love when I was afraid to watch him stand alone?
I was fed up.
How could a girl so little go through so much pain?
I wished for Dwain's hands to crawl over me and whisper words of hope into my ears.
Assuring me that everything will be alright.
A girl could only dream.
So I dreamt.
I dreamt about a future wherein the stars aligned in my favor.
I dreamt because, in the midst of what ought to be a reality, I lived a lie.
I was brought back to reality by a groan.
Dwain's groaning was hoarse. "You finally admit to avoiding me, don't you?"
I cupped his cheeks while he held me in place. "How won't I?"
My thumbs skimmed over his forehead to rub out the creases between his brows. "What did you expect me to do? Follow you when you stomped out of me in anger?"
It took him a little over a minute to adjust to our closeness and pat my back as he stirred loose strands of hair out of my face. "You got mad at me, don't hide it."
"Not really. I was lost, so lost I felt dumb. Walking out of me was rude."
"Sure," he nodded and lifted me off the floor such that my feet snaked around his waist. "Why didn't you lash out at me? Why will you bundle yourself on the couch and cry yourself to sleep? If you'd wanted to hit me, I won't have refused."
"How could I hit you?"
I hid behind my palms to stop the blush which grew across my cheeks.
He was making me laugh.
It was mind-blowing.
The hole in my chest was empty due to genuine flattery. "Moreover, you are bigger than me and would have gotten back at me if I had just dared. Stop making a fool out of me."
"Says who?"
I didn't respond.
So he maneuvered a wipe to my face and dried off my tears.
"I already feel like crap for ill-treating you. Isn't that enough? Do you want me to die of remorse as I watch you cry? Is that your plan?"
He snuggled my head against his torso.
"I can't stand your tears. . .not anymore. I don't want to be the cause of your tears. . .not anymore milady. Just let me prove my worth to you."
The innocence in his words was the last straw.
I wept.
He was clueless. . .so clueless about everything.
I chose my happiness over his. "I'm not crying because of you."
No matter the layers of sorrow in those words, beneath its roots, there was a lie.
I was crying because of him.
And he knew.
"I'm crying because I don't deserve you. I'm crying because you won't keep your promise. You will let go of me. It's only a matter of time."
There was no consolation for the guilt in my throat.
I wasn't perfect. "I'm crying because I was stocked in a nightmare and you woke me."
"Hey," his fingers rose from my chin and pressed gently to my lips.
He was smiling.
His smile was slow and easy, revealing a rarely-seen dimple on his cheek.
Dwain was amused whereas I was terrified.
"Don't be scared." Tears ran down my cheeks onto his pajamas as he calmed me down. "It's alright now. I'm here with you. Nobody can hurt you. I won't leave you. Please, enough with those tears."
"Don't argue," he stroked the tip of my nose and stopped me from retaliating. "We didn't start on a good footing but it doesn't mean that we can't be happy."
"But, I-"
"No buts just trust me to take care of you. Let me have this chance to rewrite my wrongs into rights. I want what is best for us. I won't leave you. I promise."
"Why are you being nice to me?" My hands gripped his back as I held back tears. Just for him. "You don't have to be good to me. I will just hurt the more."
He chuckled and twisted my ears.
I muffled a scream.
"Just let me lead. I know what I'm doing. I have your best interest at heart."
He playfully went for my ribs tinkling the hell out of me.
I hit his chest and frowned.
He made a face. "Aren't you embarrassed for crying at this time of the night? Don't be silly."
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
Without sparing him a second glance, I looked out of the window as though something might catch my attention, but it was pitch black.
I was late to comprehend what transpired as Dwain tossed me over his shoulder and went for the staircase.
"Let go of me this very minute." I kicked through the air with my feet and threw punches at his back. "I will scream. I swear I will scream."
He gave a deaf ear to my threats as we ascended the stairs. "Keep your calm. We shouldn't wake the others up. It is late. We don't want to make a scene."
He lowered my body to his chest, unlocked the door to our bedroom, and pushed through it to step on the multicolored rug, before switching the white lights on. "You are sweaty. I recommend that you bathe."
"Are you hinting at something? That I stink?"
My high-pitched voice might have echoed in the mansion and sent the crows on the rooftop into a fight.
Then it dawned on me that my clothes were sticky and smelly.
I cursed that rash episode of sleep paralysis. "You aren't serious. No way do I smell. You don't mean it."
He cocked a brow at me. "Isn't it obvious?"
"You caused it." I rolled my eyes at him. "You are so annoying."
He flipped me over like a pancake and spanked my buttocks before letting me rest my foot on the tiled floor.
"You can't just accuse me of everything, okay?"
"I hate you. You are a certified freak. I'm warning you, next time when you try such rubbish; I will plug your teeth off. " My fingers poked his chest. "Why will you even hit my ass? They are already flat."
"They are mine, little nutshell. And I love them as flat as they are." His face lit up with self-satisfaction. "After you," he held open the door to the bathroom for me and stood outside. "Hurry up and get in."
Unquestioning obedience wasn't always my modus operandi, but to my greatest surprise, I complied and blindly followed his guide.
"You are sick. I hate you."
He didn't respond.
As usual, dirty freak.
Why did I even fall for him?
I came face to face with a massive see-through ridden glass wall.
Nothing had changed.
It was the same way I remembered it, the classic hotel vibes and the vibrant colors.
A shiny brown rug at the entrance with Dwain's initials and a soft chiffon-colored wardrobe stood in the corner with a lot of toilet supplies.
Attached to the ridden glass was a black framed door with a wooden handle.
The latter was smooth against my fingers when I pushed through it and stepped onto the flowery tiles barefooted.
It brought back the memories of moving into Dwain's room for the first time and also that one time when I got hurt and he carried me in here to attend to my wound.
I found myself reliving the experience again.
Moonlight stroked the closed windows.
It sketched a shabby silhouette of me on the tiles and played the role of the primary source of light in the bathroom although there were tons of alternatives.
Moonlight just felt natural and conservative.
Leftover cologne and aftershave lingering in the air caught my attention.
Lavender and cheery had always been Dwain's favorite fragrances.
It made sense to have the two fragrances bossing over the place as they owned it.
This place was not different from an art gallery.
Greek portraits were everywhere like they held a special place in Dwain's heart because whatever was his own always had a touch of Greek.
I was drowning in silence.
I closed my eyes and saw Dwain.
The guy was larger than life inside my head, wearing his usual boyish charm.
I had an unhealthy obsession with this man.
"Am I mistaken? You seem to be enjoying yourself."
Dwain came in after me but went forth to spread out the double sliding doors which parted way for a huge bathtub sitting in a secluded corner on an elevated platform around the bathroom.
"Says who? There's nothing to be impressed about a bathroom."
I strolled passed a faint beam of light, ignored Dwain's presence, and sneaked a peek at the bathtub.
My eyes went out of their sockets.
"Who did this?"
I couldn't help but marvel at the view.
Heavily scented candles flamed in a semicircle at the foot of the bathtub.
How did he know I loved red roses?
Rosy petals flooded the bathtub, floating on the water from side to side as though it were a fashion parade.
The sight was spectacular.
There was even an automatic light sensor that lit up the moment I walked passed it to take a good look at the bathtub, emitting a brick-red light.
"When did you have time to pull all of this together?"
He rubbed his neck in deep thought, a shy brow being raised at me, and pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses from his back.
"Don't you like it?"
"Of cause I do. Who won't love this?"
I closed the distance between us, stood on my tiptoes to reach his ears, and whispered. "Thanks for making me feel special."
"You are my girl." His baritone was whining to the ears. "I want to spoil you."
"You have already spoiled me enough."
My toes curled in embarrassment on the tiles. "I didn't even think that I had a chance with you. You make me speechless."
"Look at me," he leaned into my tiny frame while working his fingers down my chin to tilt my head in the direction of his gaze.
His touch ignited butterflies in my stomach. "You will always have a chance with me. When you must have gotten fed up with me and requested to let go, I will come chasing after you. I've lost you once. I won't lose you again. I won't lose you for anything in this world. I will fight for both of us. I will fight for you and me to be together till death do us part."
"I will fight for you too."
My voice cracked.
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.
I was falling hard for Dwain.
"Mr. Horton, I will fight even when you choose to let go. I will fight till my last breath. Even when it's impossible, I will keep fighting."
"You are mine." He lowered his breath to my ears. "You will always be mine."
I snorted while shaking my head and evading his eyes. "Keep your promise."
"Have I failed to keep any?"
He pulled his arms over me like I was about to fall, caught my waist while bending me over such that we were staring into each other's gaze, and caged me onto his torso.
"Every day, I woke up thinking it wasn't possible to love you more. But each time I woke up to the happiness in your voice, your arms around me, and your breath on my face, our love grew. It forever grows. The beat of my heart is you. I'm in love with you. I love you like crazy. I will always pick you. I promise, little nutshell."
He pecked my cheeks.
"I've never been anyone's first choice. I was always a background character in everyone's story." My nails dug into his biceps for support. "Thanks for making me feel like the first choice. I shouldn't have been in the picture, but you make me want to fight for your love. I will always be here in case you choose otherwise."
I kissed his lips.