Donatella:
That was a lot harder than I thought.
But also a lot easier. In the sense that he still wants to be with me. As long as we have that, I think that we can work on us. Get better. Heal.
I don't know how to explain it but I'm sure it'll all work out.
It's fated. I feel it.
When I wake the next day, after getting ready for school and making my way downstairs, there's a box waiting for me.
The maid holding it allows me to open it while still in her arms. When I do, beneath the glittering tissue paper, is a pink bunny. With sparkling grey-blue eyes, like mine I realise. And when my breath catches in my throat as I realise what he's done, I lift its front paw and written in gold cursive...
Donatella.
A few tears prick my eyes but I blink them away. I let myself cry yesterday but not today.
I notice something else in the box then. Hugging the toy to my chest, I retrieve the note and unfold it.
I don't want you to forgive me because of gifts, though this is just one of many, but I wanted you to have it. It feels right that we each give each other one. You gave me mine fifteen years ago, it's about time I gave you yours.
See you soon, Darling.
Right when I said I wouldn't cry. Damn him.
"Would you like me to put it in your room?" The maid asks and I shake my head.
"Could you hold this?" I hand her my bag and hurry up the stairs back to my room, debating where to put her. I decide that my bed will do and so I gently place her down in between my pillows. I nearly struggle to leave it there. But I manage it, returning downstairs and saying goodbye to my mother and leaving.
Speaking of the woman who birthed me, I have still yet to talk to her about what she did with Darius yesterday. They looked like they just had a very long conversation and so we are in need of one, too.
My stomach flutters with butterflies the entire drive to school. Nerves and anticipation and anxiety and hope all concocted together into one big internal mess.
It all stops though, when I see him right there, outside, leaning against his car, talking to Jeremy.
Once I'm out of my own car, it's like the force that connects us together sings and all of a sudden, his sole attention is on me.
I can't move but it doesn't matter. He comes to me.
"Hey." He greets.
"Hi."
"Did you get my present?"
I nod.
"Did you like it?"
"I did. Thank you."
"Don't thank me."
What is it with this man and hating the phrase "thank you"?
"Come on." He holds out his hand. "I'll walk you to class."
"Were you not talking to Jere?"
"I was. Now you're here."
And there go the butterflies again.
The good ones this time.
"Was it not anything important?" I ask as he takes my bag from me, and then my hand.
"It wasn't. But it doesn't matter even if it was, you'll always be more important."
I look down, attempting to hide my blush. "What if it was about... a murder?" I have to ponder for a good topic.
He tilts his head, the complete picture of nonchalance. "In general or one I committed?"
My eyes shoot wide and I halt in my tracks, causing him to stop as well. I snap my head up at him, eyes wide. "You haven't killed anyone, have you? " My voice is hushed while I try to make sure no one else hears.
His chuckle is deep and oh so familiar it's almost painful. "Is there anyone I should have?"
"Darius!" I whisper-yell, smacking his arm. "Don't joke about that. I'm being serious."
"So am I."
I open my mouth but when nothing comes out, I close it again, facing forward and continuing my way to class.
He catches up to me in less than two strides.
"Give me your hand."
"Why?" I ask.
"So I can hold it." He answers simply.
I blush. Again. But move my arm so that he can intertwine our fingers.
"Look at that." He muses. "Doesn't that feel better?"
I look away, at anything but him.
How is it that he can say things so casually, yet his words leave me speechless?
It doesn't make sense.
Once we reach my class, we stop outside of the door. I turn so that I'm facing him, my head tilted upwards, our hands still joined. "Thank you."
He rolls his eyes. No doubt, huffing about the fact that I did so. I mean seriously, what's wrong with having manners?
"You're welcome." He gives in. When he is just about to say something else, another voice sounds.
"Donatella."
I look over to see Noah, a guy who I share this class with, walking this way.
"Hi." I reply, then notice his swollen eye. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He rushes. "I just wanted to thank you for sending those notes over the other day. I wanted to catch up for not being in and yours are always the best in the class, so."
"Of course. No problem." I don't think they're the best, but I appreciate the compliment.
He looks to Dare. "Hey, man. Great game on Friday."
Darius doesn't answer. Just stares frostily at him.
"Anyway." He clears his throat, cheeks turning pink. "See you in there." I nod and he hurries past us, entering the classroom.
When I turn back to Darius, his eyes, or should I say his glare, is focused on the door.
"Darius?"
He looks down at me and loses the withering stare, only to gain a furrowed brow and a pout. "You gave him your notes?"
"Yeah. He wasn't in for one of the lessons so our teacher asked me to send them to him."
He glances back towards where Noah disappeared from our line of vision. "I don't like him."
"What?" I laugh.
"I don't like him. He gives me a bad vibe. I think you should avoid him from now on. It's for the best, I can smell his raging crush on you from here." He pulls a face. "And his fucking aftershave."
"Darius." I scold for the second time this morning. "That's not nice." My nose wrinkles. "Even if it is true." I ignore his prideful smirk. "And he does not have a crush on me."
"Yes he does. He didn't even blink when he was talking to you. And I'm a guy. I can tell."
"Well, do I have a crush on him?"
"No." He frowns.
"Exactly. So there's nothing to it."
His gaze travels back to the door, sharper this time, maliciously mischievous.
"Darius Alexei Ford." I narrow my eyes at him, bringing his wide eyed expression back to me. "You will not kill that boy."
"Who said anything about killing?" He raises a brow with a small smile. "The real fun is what comes before."
In no world would I ever have thought I'd fall in love with someone who tortures and kills, let alone enjoys it. But here we are. I honestly don't even know why I'm not so shocked or horrified over it. My family don't indulge in a lot of that side of business so it's not like I've been surrounded by it. But I guess it is what it is. I love every part of him. And nothing will change that.
I will, however, not allow innocent people to be hurt because of me.
"He didn't do anything wrong."
"He looked at your ass when he was heading over here." His voice is now less playful and more lethal. "He's lucky I didn't grab him then and there."
I involuntary step closer to him at that comment about Noah looking at me. "What?"
"Mhm." He lets go of my hand and places both of his onto my hips. "You can understand, can't you? Why I'd want to gouge his eyes from his head?" The way he talks is so soft. So gentle as he tilts his head to offer me an innocent expression. So cold where pliancy blankets.
Swallowing, I try and stand my ground. "You can't just go around hurting people who do something you don't like."
"But this isn't just something I don't like." His grip tightens. Not painfully but possessively. "This is about you. You remember how much I hate when someone fucks with what's mine."
I do. On several occasions.
When he tripped a kid into the dirt because he accidentally got some of it on his shoes. When he nearly broke another kid's arm because he tried to take his lion. When he pushed a kid down a play set because he made fun of the way I looked.
All at the little age of six.
And that's barely the tip of the iceberg.
The bell goes then, signalling that classes are to start in no less than three minutes.
"I have to go. Bye bye." I attempt to leave but he captures my hand.
"Forgetting something?" He asks.
Forget...? Oh.
I bite my bottom lip, nervous. I don't even know why. We've made out for a whole half hour before, and I'm getting an upside down stomach because of a kiss?
Taking a step forward, I glance sideways before quickly standing on my tiptoes and pecking his cheek, then turning away to get to class.
But he only recaptures my hand, tighter this time, and spins me inwards towards him. Our bodies make contact and I freeze, statues by surprise and anticipation when I look up into his opal eyes. There isn't even a single second before his mouth comes down on mine, our lips fitting together like they were made to do so. Like it's their purpose.
It was hard at first, full of passion and desperation but now it's slow and sweet. So many things and it lasted all but ten seconds.
It's a rollercoaster, just what being with him has been like. Everything that's been and felt from over a decade ago to this very moment.
His forehead rests on mine and when I open my eyes, I find his already there, watching me. Like he always is.
"You're still my girl, Tella." He murmurs. Lips brushing against my own with every word, and sharp gaze causing me to feel feverish. "You better still kiss me like you are."
It's a caress as much as a muted threat.
If I didn't, I'm sure he'd drag me into that classroom and shove his tongue down my throat in front of everyone there, and then repeat the process at the next assembly or in the parking lot so that the entire school could whiteness it.
I gasp and the corners of his mouth tip up. A wicked, sinful smile gracing his expression.
He bumps the tip of his nose to mine and then places a soft kiss onto my temple, whispering lowly in my hair. "I'll be here when you finish."
I'm released from his embrace and the cool breath of air that I feel as I walk away from him chills me right down to the bone.
He's always so warm. Despite his icy countenance around others, he's like a freaking furnace to me.
I stop for a second, feeling the presence of his stare. Angling my head around, I glance at the back of my skirt and then him, watching as his eyes detach themselves from it before he sends me a smirk. Blushing, I hurry into the classroom.
Damn him. The heathen.
As I sit down just as the teacher walks in, I chance one last look at the door, even though I know he won't be visible to me from here, the shadow of his presence still hovers.
I'm so glad.
So glad that he still wants to be with me. That we're going to fix things.
I know we will. It will all work out.
He's mine and I'm his.
There is nothing else.