The brunette waitress from downstairs jumps off of Scarlette, eyes wide as she realizes what i've just seen. The youngest Berkshire readjusts her thin dress strap on her shoulder, carefully looking between us. Like the first time we met, I can tell she's analyzing the situation before acting.
"I am so sorry." The words tumble from between my lips. Not wasting another awkward second, I hurry out of the room, closing the door behind me. My feet carry me half way down the hall, nearly tripping over my dress in the process. Tears build in my eyes at the thought of what just happened. The embarrassment across the features of the women runs through my head on an endless loop. Clearly, I walked in on a private moment, one that they might fear anyone knowing about. Now, what? Would they fear what I'd say? Would they live in fear because of me? My stomach turns at the thought.
"Sawyer!" I hear Scarlette's voice hiss from behind me. I realize that i've stopped and am now leaning against the wall to catch my breath. She slows to a stop beside me, resting her hand on my shoulder with a comforting touch. "Are you okay?"
"I'm so so sorry." I whisper in a trembling tone, daring to break at any second. I set both my bag and black box on the floor before taking both her hands in mine. "I never meant to walk in on you, but you have my word, i'll never ever say anything. I promise." My eyes stay on hers, desperate to prove my sincerity. "I know I don't know you very well, Scarlette, but I know you're a good person. A person that deserves to be happy. Don't ever change for anybody, okay?" The last thing I want is for her to feel like she has to hide from me, or even worse, be afraid of me.
"Oh, please. As if I would think you'd spill the beans." She laughs, nonchalantly. Pulling her hands from mine, she uses the pad of her thumbs to wipe away my tears. "You're the most trustworthy person I know. And definitely the last person that would share my secret." After wiping away my tears, something I thought I would have to do for her, she bends down and retrieves my items. "Elena is a bit worried, but i'll tell her we can trust you. She's scared of what her mother might think." She flashes me a half smile. "I guess i'm scared of what my mother might think too. My father has never been too fond of me, even though i'm his mistake to begin with, but my mother took me in. She forgave him and accepted me when he wouldn't. I don't want to make her regret it."
"Your father's mistake?" I ask carefully, hoping i'm not prying. Scarlette bites her lip, clearly contemplating whether to share this information with me or not.
"He cheated on my mom with another woman. I'm the product of that mistake. That woman almost instantly abandoned me and my father followed behind. Well, tried. Until my mother stepped in. That woman has a heart of gold. She took me in and forced my father to be a father to me. What if she finds out what I am and regrets that choice? What if she doesn't want me anymore?" For the first time since I met her, I see fear in Scarlette Berkshire's eyes.
"Your mom seems like the type of person to accept anyone. Even after only a short time of knowing her, I know she loves her children more than life itself. I don't think she would ever turn you away."
"But is it worth the risk? There's a small chance that this will be too much and she will turn her back on me. Is it worth losing my family over?" She's searching my eyes, searching for the answers to her question. If only she knew this is something I ask myself everyday. Is it worth losing my family to follow my dreams? I shake my head.
"I'm not sure." I admit. "But I do know you deserve to be happy." She smiles, handing my belongings back to me.
"I know, but perhaps at my own time. Right now, I can have my little bit of happiness behind closed doors." Her eyes flash over my shoulder then return to mine. "I believe you have someone to wish happy birthday to." And just like that, Scarlette is retreating back to the room down the hall, leaving me to my own devices. I take a second to collect myself, knowing for a fact that I look absolutely ridiculous. After a few seconds to myself, I turn around, nearly running straight into Roman.
"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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