I kept waiting for him to knock on my door, minute after minute. He didn’t.
So I decided to go knock on his.
It was almost like I’d convinced myself that this wasn’t really real, that I wasn’treallygoing to walk out of my room when I opened the door. I wasn’treallygoing to step barefoot into the hallway, go all the way to his door.
I did.
It was quiet out there, the air colder. Maybe I should have put something around my shoulders, at least. I should have worn shoes.
Or maybe I should have stayed in my room altogether—and it was those thoughts that kept me frozen there, staring at the polished wood of the door like a fool, never moving a single inch as my heartbeat sped up little by little.
Stay—
Leave—
Knock—
Run—
The feel of the wood underneath my knuckles startled me. I had no idea when I’d fisted my hand, when I’d raised it, when I’d slammed it against the door.
Two seconds, and it opened.
March stood before me with his hair disheveled, a pair of red pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, nothing else.
I did it—I did it—I did it?—
“What are you doing?”
His whisper cut me in half.
His eyes roaming down my body as they became darker and darker put me back together.
The clenched muscles of his torso and his fisted hands set me on fire.
“I’m…knocking.” It wasn’t the smartest thing I could have said, granted, but I had nothing else. I’d come out of my room and to his, and I’d battled thoughts in my head like they were my enemies, and I’d knocked.
Because how was I supposed to find the right words to tell him that I didn’t want to be alone badly enough that my skin felt too tight on me in that room?
March closed his eyes, lowered his head, took in a deep breath and tightened his muscles so that I saw them flexing. A little light from the hallway fell on his smooth skin and revealed to me all his shapes and curves and edges.
“What for?” he then said, his voice dangerously low. I’d have preferred if he’d have been pissed off, if he’d shouted. But he said, “You want to be distracted again?” That smile.Awful, awful, twisted.“You want me on my knees for you?” Every gear in my body turned the wrong way for a tick. “You want pleasure—is that it?”
I did.
I did want distraction and pleasure, and I definitely wanted him on his knees, too—but that wasn’t why I was here, I didn’t think.
“Presence,” I whispered despite my better judgment. Despite the cruel way he was looking at me—and maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was so used to being looked like I was a wonder of the world by him before that now I couldn’t standthis. I couldn’t stand him not being fascinated by me. I wasthatweak.
“It feels like…like I’m disappearing,” I said a second later because he refused to even move a single inch, and I had no idea where the words came from, only that they were true.
At least March wasn’t smiling like that anymore. He wasn’t fisting his hands as tightly. He wasn’t looking at me with mockery—only like he wanted to figure me out just now.
So he asked, “You want me to reassure you that you’re not?”
I shook my head. “I just don’t want to disappear alone.” Because I wasn’t going to believe him if he tried to reassure me. I didn’t even believe myself.
Our eyes stayed locked for a long moment.
