We showered in record time, and we didn't even do it together. I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and stepped on the cold tiles of his bathroom, goosebumps rising on my legs. I opened the door to his bathroom and saw him buttoning the top of his white dress shirt with a gray tie hanging around his neck, and God did he look sexy
I took a moment to look at him while he was busy with his tie. His dark hair looked raven while wet, and his forest green eyes glowed, illuminating his whole face. There was a light stubble running across his razor-sharp jawline and his plump lips were rosy and alluring. He bit his bottom lip as he concentrated on the knot he was making, and then released it unconsciously.
I wish I was the one bitting his lip.
I take a moment to contemplate on us and how it ever happened. It is wrong in so many levels and we both know it, but it is impossible to ignore the connection we have. I felt attracted to Alexander the moment I laid eyes on him and social conventions were the last things on my mind right then. I just saw him as a man. A sexy, captivating man that I was forced to look at every day.
Are we walking on thin ice? Yes. Are there going to be consequences if we're caught? Definitely.
I don't know what we're doing, and where this is going. I didn't think about that before I came to his apartment. This could be something casual, a booty call even, or it could be something else entirely. And as I reflect upon our current predicament, I can't bear the thought of being someone he's using purely out of lust. I frown.
Could he be using me for sexual favours?
Does he want to use me for sex and then discard me like I'm nothing?
Has he done this before?
The thought makes me sick.
I crave to be special. I want to be the only girl he has touched.
I feel my mood souring instantly. That's the thing about being unstable, we attach to others and look for comfort anywhere we can find it.
I know what it looks like. My father is an absent piece of shit that prefers to give me material things instead of affection and Mr Clarke is an authority figure. This screams daddy issues and I'm surprised that I haven't thought of it before. I've been analysed so many times by shrinks that I can identify what the fuck is wrong with me without even trying. It used to be instantaneous, but that ability has diminished with time and I haven't realized.
I sit on the bed and shiver with cold but I don't have the energy to move. My thoughts started growing increasingly erratic with every moment that passed, and the sound of Mr Clarke moving made my anxiety worsen. I felt deflated as I sat on the bed and I stared at my hands before me.
I heard him stop doing whatever he was doing and I continued to stare at my hands with my head bowed down. A lifeless corpse, a girl that lost the spark inside of her just like that.
I felt hands on my shoulders and I wanted to squirm and twist my body away from him but I didn't. I sat very still and very spiritless while he clutched me, and although I knew what I was doing was wrong after everything that happened last night I couldn't help it.
"Luna?" He said tentatively. He received no answer from the girl in front of him, a girl that he didn't have the misfortune to have met yet. This was the self that I tried to repress everyday and she was finally showing after months of hiding.
"You okay?" He tried again, concern laced in his deep voice. He caressed the skin on my shoulders with his thumbs and I stood up, his touch unbearable against my body.
The touch that I had craved so much felt foul and sickening, burning my skin with the contact. Isn't life ironic?
"Yes." I replied and grabbed my pants from the floor. I didn't think about bringing any clothes with me. That was stupid, but I wasn't really thinking before.
I dropped the towel and dressed, my back to him. There is no need for modesty when the person watching you has seen everything you have to show.
I avoided looking at him as long as I could because I didn't want to look at his face. I felt ashamed at myself for doing this but aren't I a booty call anyways? Affection isn't part of the deal. He doesn't want a love-sick high school girl having feelings for him. He just wants her body.
I knew that the poisoned thoughts coursing through my brain weren't logical but they kept coming incessantly, plaguing my head and making my chest become constricted.
That's the thing about depression. You don't feel good enough to earn someone's affection and you repel from it to protect yourself. If you don't feel you can't hurt, and numbness is better than pain.
And then I saw a vision of myself, heartbroken because of him somewhere in the future, alone and desolate. I see myself having feelings for him that would be crushed under the soles of his shoes, breaking the secure walls that hold me together. We're unrealistic, he'd say, and too different. And that's disregarding the age difference that we have. It was fun while it lasted, but you can leave now, darling.
I can't have that happening to me. I have worked too hard to become fine again and this would make me crumble into nothing, and the particles of my being would be smaller than dust.
I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't.
I won't be hurt again.
"What's wrong?" He asked exasperatedly as I finished putting my shoe on.
"Nothing's wrong." I answered, the monotonous voice of numbness showing through. "I've got to go."
I finally looked at his face. His eyes were wide and vulnerable, his mouth parted in surprise and confusion. I felt sorry for him. He chose the wrong girl.
"Talk to me." He said, running a frustrated hand through his hair, eyes looking at my features. "Just tell me what's wrong."
I felt my throat constricting. He wanted to help me. He couldn't.
Even though he could hypothetically hurt me I can't take the chance. It's just too much for me, all this feeling. And as much as I enjoyed it, enjoyed him, the fear overrules my emotions.
"I've got to go." I took a last look at him, standing dumbfounded beside the bed. I felt broken, but that wasn't anything new, "Bye."
"Luna!" I heard him shout as I left the bedroom with my things on my hands. I jogged to his front door and opened it desperately, not even bothering turning back around to close it. I just needed to get out of there.
The cold rain hit my face when I arrived outside and I violently gasped for air. I held myself under the water, my arms wrapped around my figure, unable to move. I counted to fifteen in my head and then walked towards my car, the raindrops hiding the tears pouring down my face.
***
I don't know for how long I sat in my car. I lost track of time as I remained immobile on the leather seats while parked on the school lot, the rain pounding violently against the metal above my head. It could have been minutes or hours, and even as time went by I couldn't get myself to leave the confines of the vehicle.
My knees were pulled to my chest and I placed my head against the cold window. The wet trails left by my tears felt like ice against my cheeks. They were frigid, just like my heart.
For the hundredth time I remembered myself that this is all my fault. I'm the one that ran out of the apartment and left him. I'm the one that's causing all the pain. But isn't that what I like to do the most?
Why the fuck am I so screwed up?!
The thought crossed my head over and over again, tormenting me endlessly. I wanted to go back to him and apologize, continuing right where we left it off, but the future scared me infinitely and I couldn't act in the face of uncertainty.
I drew labored, shaky breaths, breaths tainted with the remains of my intense crying session. The minutes ticked by in the electronic clock of the car and I stared at them in a attempt to calm down. I grabbed a cigarette from my purse and lit it up, inhaling the acid smoke into my lungs.
I smoked the whole pack.
I felt like shit. The little energy I had vanished and I was left feeling hollow and anesthetic. After I counted to ten I opened the door of the sports car and stepped outside of my confines. While dragging myself to school I felt the tell-tale pain in my chest that came with anxiety and it was so strong that I had to catch my breath.
The hallways were empty and oppressive as I walked on the linoleum floor. All eyes were on me as I opened the door in the middle of history lesson and plodded towards my seat.
"Glad that you could join us Miss Crawford." The teacher said. I didn't bother answer.
I could see Ava looking at me from my peripheral vision.
"Where have you been?" She asked worriedly, "You smell like a tobacco shop."
I didn't answer her either.
The rest of the day dragged by and I thankfully didn't see him again. If I saw those worried green eyes staring at me I would break down in an instant.
When I arrived home I shut my curtains until the room was pitch black and I laid down on the bed wishing that everything would just stop, and I remained there for the rest of the day.
***
A/N
It wasn't going to be so damn easy between them lol. It was becoming too good to be true, and what's the fun in that? BUT don't lose hope in them is all I'm saying.
Vote and comment! It really encourages me to write.