She would have stumbled, but her feet stayed sure and his confidence in the movements kept her own responses smooth. He tightened his arm around her waist and she felt the air leave her lungs. “I hate you.” She whispered, attempting to ignorethe feel of his arms around her body. It wasn’t fair. He stepped precisely, leading her through the moves of the dance.
“No you don’t.” He whispered back. He rested his chin on her hair, cocooning her in his warmth as the cool night air blew throughout the camp.
“Projects?” She asked him quietly. If she could keep the conversation work related, maybe she could convince herself she wasn’t enjoying this. Enjoying him. Maybe she could ignore how safe she felt in his embrace, ignore how his slight beard tickled her cheek when she leaned in to ask him a question.
He glanced around, “Maybe more scientific developments?”
“Maybe.”
She balled her hands into fists, refusing to touch him more than she was forced to. When he spun her out and back into him, he twirled her so her back was against his chest. “You know, you’re allowed to have fun in moments like this.”
His breath on her ear caused her to shiver, and his arms brought her even closer. Her heart pounded under his touch, and she couldn’t ignore the fact she wanted more. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him to feel just as tortured as she felt.
He spun her so she was facing him, pulling her waist against him as they swayed. His thumb traced across the line of skin where her t-shirt had lifted. She reached one hand up and wound her fingers through the curls forming at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned back ever so slightly into her touch.
The music grew softer, and his arm around her waist tightened as he looked down at her. His face was only inches from hers, and he started to lean down, closing the gap between their lips as his eyes flicked across her face.
Terror filled her mind. She couldn’t let him kiss her. If he did, she would fall again, right back into his orbit. A moth to a brutalflame. He wouldn’t even see the damage he caused, but she would be irreparable. Burns heal, but they always scar. “Don’t do this to me,” she managed to whisper right before his lips touched hers. Somehow, mercifully, those almost silent words caused him to release her.
“You know what, I am pretty tired. We should crash.” He said loud enough to explain their departure. He kept a loose grip on her hand, all for show of course. Relief, and disappointment if she was honest, flooded her chest as they left the flames and dancers.
They grabbed their bags from their previous spot, and walked far enough from the group they could barely hear the shouts and excitement.
Clara enjoyed the momentary silence, but knew questions from Carver were quickly coming. “What,” he inhaled, and she could hear the tension in his breath, “Exactly amIdoing to you, Clara?”
She wished he hadn’t said her name. Wished that single moment hadn’t taken her back to when she was his. Her name sounded so wrong on his lips now, and she wanted him to take it back. Foolish.
“Everything.” She whispered as she unpacked her blanket. She was determined not to lose her composure, determined to keep her focus and complete this mission. Carver wouldn’t be the death of her. He wouldn’t stop her from fulfilling this. She could do it. She could and she would. She wouldn’t let petty emotions rule her actions.
“Everything?” He questioned.
“Just drop it, Carver, okay? This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.”
“What is a conversation you want to have right now?”
“We’re really bad at following the rules.” She spit out, trying not to cry. Tears filled her eyes anyway, and she paused to take adeep breath and compose herself. She was grateful for the dark, grateful he couldn’t see the anguish consuming her face.
“Is that even relevant anymore?” His voice remained perfectly calm, sterile, almost. He was logical with the mission as the only thing of concern. Because, of course, she wasn’t his concern. She never was.
“Yes, Carver, yes! It’s all relevant.” A tear fell but she swiped it away before he commented, “You want me to trust you for this mission. You want me to trust you to have my back. But how can I? How can I trust you with anything? You never follow through on your word. This time around is no different.” She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of him. She couldn’t stand the hurt look on his face. It wasn’t fair her words could hurt him in that way. Not when he hurt her the way he did.
“And I,” she paused, attempting to maintain some semblance of composure as her voice broke, “I fall for it every time. No matter how strong I am, how strong I become, I still see you as this knight in shining armor. And you’re not. You’ve hurt me more than anyone else ever has. You didn’t save me. You’re not the hero. You may not be the villain, but you made me who I am. Do you understand that?”
He shook his head as she continued. “Weapons are forged. I’m no different. The fire that pushed me to become this was your betrayal. Don’t expect me to forget and just trust you like everything is okay. It’s not okay. None of it is okay.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” She raised her voice, and could feel the hysteria building. “I say all of that and the only response you have is ‘okay’?”
“What response do you want me to have?” His voice was rougher than she had heard it before, and she took a step back awaiting an outburst from him. “Do you want me to say that you’re right? That I’m a horrible person and all I’m capable of ishurting you? I know it’s true! I know, okay? And I’m trying to do the right thing and protect you now, but it’s never enough, is it? All I’ve ever done is try to protect you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” All of her aggression flew out in that one statement.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” He ran a hand through his hair, the defeat clear on his face.
He laid out his blanket, and folded himself into it facing away from her.
Another tear trickled down her cheek as she watched his form inhale and exhale. She didn’t bother to wipe it away as she laid out her own blanket and curled into herself.
