“Oh, go on, what’s the big deal?” he says, playing it down.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go,” he reaches his hand out to me. “I can lend you one of my shirts.”
I follow him, speechless, towards the bed. I stand there watching while he digs around in his drawer, pulling out a t-shirt for me. He hands it to me and I accept it, digging up a little smile.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, heading towards the bathroom.
I sit there motionless for a few seconds, confused and scared by the situation. I slip my shoes back off and slide out of my jeans. I pull off my jumper and throw it on the floor. I put his t-shirt on, which comes down to my knees. It’s huge, just like him. I grab the collar and bring it to my nose.
I inhale. Sharply. I fill my lungs and my heart with his scent. I sigh like an idiot and then snap my head up as I sense his presence behind me.
Ian overshadows me completely with his body, pushing me with his shoulders against a wall. He looks down at me, my legs shaking.
It’s not from fear. He could never frighten me.
“Something’s not right here.”
I try to avoid eye contact.
“Riley.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re hiding something from me, and I’m aware of it, you know that?”
“That’s not true.” I stammer unconvincingly.
“Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m…not.”
“I want to see you.”
All of my muscles go rigid.
“You might not like it,” I whisper, barely audible.
“You’ll never know if you don’t give it a try,” he says, with a face that lets me know exactly what he’s thinking.
The problem is that I like what I see. His large, defined shoulders. The muscles in his arms as his hand rests on the wall behind me. That little silver sword that he carries on a chain around his neck, suspended in the air by our breathing. His smile, a little crooked, a little sexy and a little cheeky. His enigmatic blue eyes that hide a world that no one can see, but one which I dream about; it’s a secret world, made of hope, desire and infinite security.
I like being here, in this apartment which at first glance could seem cold and bare, but which actually emits a warmth that wraps you up. I like the feeling that I get every time he touches me, running from my mouth to my stomach, when he talks to me a bit too intensely and lowers his voice.
I like all of it, dangerously so.
“Come on,” he says, moving away. He holds out his hand for me. “Let’s go to bed.”
I let myself be pulled along towards his bed, I sit down and he gently pushes me to the mattress. I lay my head on the pillow and inhale his scent which feels like home to me now.
Then he stands up like he’s about to leave me and I grab onto his hand and squeeze it tightly. He jerks his head round to look at me in search of an explanation I’m not able to provide. I don’t know how to explain in words how I feel right now, what I need almost as much as I need air to breathe.
He looks at me for a few seconds before exhaling deeply and lets his hand drop.
Disappointment fills me immediately.
I feel small, cast aside into a corner.
