The ongoing silence was wearying, to say the least.
“I can’t stand it when you act like this,” I grumbled to myself as I lay in bed. I was wearing my prescription reading glasses, which I only used when I read books after a long day of classes and wanted to avoid straining my eyes. My hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and I was bundled up in warm clothes.
I glanced over at the clock: It was only four o’clock in the afternoon. I’d eaten a quick lunch at school with my friends, and now I was alone for the afternoon.
My mother wouldn’t be home until dinnertime.
We hadn’t spoken any more about my lying to her and going to see Neil, but her frosty looks were more than sufficient to tell me she was still upset with me.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang and pulled me out of my thoughts.
I reluctantly leftPeter and Wendyon my bed and hurried downstairs to the door.
When I flung the door open, I found the object of my obsession standing on my front porch in all his glory. He looked like he’d come to haunt me with his stern frown and diabolical beauty. My breath caught at the sight of his nose, tip reddened in the cold, and his lush mouth cracked down the middle. That cut on his lower lip seemed like it might have been from someone biting him…the way I did.
“Hey, Tinkerbell,” he said in his baritone, and I blinked in surprise. It felt like New York was no further than the next block for him—he just showed up here like it was nothing, completely disarming me with his enthralling appeal.
“What…what are you doing here?” I adjusted my glasses, and he took notice, smiling. It was the first time he’d ever caught me looking so dressed down. Good thing I had at least taken a shower because I was otherwise a hot mess.
“Are you alone?” he asked, not answering my question.
“Yeah, my mother won’t be back until dinner.” I shrugged as he walked proprietarily inside, shutting the door behind him. I took a step back and tilted my head to get a good look at him, feeling small and awkward.
As always, Neil was magnificent.
“I texted you these past few days, but you disappeared,” I said, only after he’d spent a moment looking around without noting anything in particular. He made me wait before deigning to give me his attention. The smell of musky bath gel filled the air. It had only been a minute, and he was already invading my space with his essence.
“I’ve been working on my application for my internship,” he explained, looking down at me. He lingered over the long sweater I wore before moving on to my light pants and fuzzy slippers. With an amused look on his face, he looked up into my eyes. “Since when do you wear glasses?” he asked, and I reddened. I knew he was going to say that.
“When I read,” I answered, staring at the tiny cut on his lower lip.
“And how come I never noticed?” he asked, cutting the distance between us. The closer he got, the more I felt crushed, disintegrated, scattered to pieces, and absorbed into his soul.
“Maybe you were distracted,” I whispered. Neil lifted up a hand to strokemy cheek and graze my chin with his thumb without ever taking his eyes off me.
“You think so?” he asked, smiling wickedly. “I bet you were reading one of your dull books. Maybe something by Nabokov?” he said in a sensual murmur.
“No,Peter and Wendyby J.M. Barrie.” I blushed again, preparing myself for whatever snarky remark he had for me. Instead, he just furrowed his brow, and with a rough chuckle, he kept caressing my cheek.
“You really are a kid at heart.” He leaned down and dropped a chaste kiss on my lips. I marveled at the delicate movement. He lingered a few more seconds against my mouth, but it was not one of his passionate, devouring kisses. It was a kiss hello, a show of affection.
As soft as it was powerful.
A few moments later, he pulled away and looked into my eyes, sensing the enveloping warmth there. He seemed pleased to see me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to just enjoy the moment.
How many days had he avoided me?
Neil wasn’t capable of suppressing his urges for long, and the mark on his lip made me think he’d run straight into the arms of one of his other lovers.
“What happened to your lip?” I asked him suspiciously.
I felt like peeling off his clothes and examining every inch of him for marks that didn’t belong to me. He came back to earth and turned serious, shutting himself back up in his darkness.
“It’s from the cold. My lips get dry, and I get these little cracks,” he explained with his usual cool. He seemed sincere enough, but I couldn’t be entirely sure.
“Are you still sleeping with other people?” I blurted out, my possessive urges getting the better of me.
“Even if I did, it wouldn’t mean anything to me,” he answered honestly, a hint of shame in his voice. He looked up over my shoulder so I wouldn’t see the hurt on his face.
