And then he stops, as if his words had completely taken me down. What he just said is sufficient to cool off my feelings which I need to get back under control again, once and for all, to stop this back and forth wildness with my heart.
“Sure… Patrick,” I say, disappointed, even if I don’t have a reason for feeling this way.
Aaron is a friend, for my brother and for me too and my disappointment is just an echo of some insanity that keeps popping up in my mind for one stupid moment after another, a misunderstanding with little meaning.
“We have to go,” I say harshly, getting up from the bed. “The others are waiting for me.”
“Do you feel like going? Do you want me to call your mom or Patrick?”
“No, I’m fine. Nothing happened. There’s no need to inform anyone of anything.”
“You should talk about it with someone, you need to get it off your chest.”
“I said I’m fine,” I repeat curtly. I don’t want him to worry about me.
“Ciara,” he says my name in a sweeter tone of voice.
“It’s nothing, Aaron. I just want to change, gather up my things and go and not mention what happened here again.”
He looks at me, frowning, and in his eyes I see worry and indecision so I decide to lay it on the line.
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I tell him, lifting my chin and crossing my arms. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m grown up. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m a woman,” I conclude, turning my back on him and leaving the room, closing myself in the bathroom, where I can finally give way to my emotions, which are a mixture of fear, confusion and anger because I was about to risk it all, and I’m not just talking about my safety.
I was about to lay my heart down by telling him my real feelings.
—
AARON
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says, raising her chin and crossing her arms almost in challenge. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m grown up. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m a woman,” she concludes, leaving me and shutting herself off in the bathroom.
I let myself fall down on the bed, grabbing my head in my hands.
The problem is that I have noticed and I’m acutely aware that she’s no longer a child, that she’s grown, grown a bit too womanly to tell the truth. She was undressing in front of me and… shit. I can’t even tell you when was the last time that a woman got undressed in front of me.
I shake my head and try to chase away that absurd thought. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten to her when I did, and I don’t even want to think about it, because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.
Of course I know she’s playing tough with me and, after all, that’s what she is. She’s stubborn and always has been, even as a child. But I know it’s all a sham and that she’s still shaken up inside.
I know that sensation by heart.
After a few minutes she comes out of the bathroom. She’s washed her face and there’s no trace of the make-up that had been running down under her eyes and over her cheeks. Her face is clean and simple and her big clear eyes are red and still display the fear she is trying to hide.
She must have cried a lot.
I close the distance between us as she looks for something in the closet. I lean my head on her shoulder and breathe in the scent of her hair.
The scent of a woman.
“Excuse me,” I tell her, before allowing myself to touch her skin again, this time without retracting. She is breathing heavier now but keeps her shoulders to me and so I gather my courage, battle the fear, anxiety and every other scary emotion that’s going through me right now. Because I need it.
Right now.
I need to touch her.
I wrap my arms around her waist from behind, pulling her towards me, mixing her scent with mine and once again I am filled with that same emotion which forces me to close my eyes.
I keep holding her close to me, fighting against the demons that have been living in my soul, fighting against my own mind and heart.
