Call it your final lesson in immortality
20
The next day was slow to start. Neither of us wanted to get out of bed, which we would claim was because we didn’t need to, but I had a feeling it was more the result of a minor case of depression dampening the mood.
I made the best of it, considering doing absolutely nothing was a newfound hobby of mine. Whenever I felt less than chipper, it was easy to fall back on the laziness living with Riftan had cultivated within me.
Being an immortal, there was no downside to chronic lethargy—except maybe the occasional boredom if I’d been by myself. Because I no longer ate, I didn’t need to get up and make food. My body type would never change, so I didn’t have to worry about getting any sort of exercise to stay healthy or in shape. Plus, I was immortal; I didn’t have to worry about aches or pains from sitting in bed all day.
Though the slothfulness had come from Riftan himself, he reminded me from time to time that it wasn’t good to get used to the profound idleness we often succumbed to. But his argument remained that this was his down decade and all he wanted to do was rest until the decade was over—which from my calculations was still several years away.
Regardless of his reasoning, I’d always enjoyed it when we didn’t bother getting out of bed. Even with our budding situation, it was easy enough to pretend we weren’t passing any of Riftan’s thin lines by accepting the comfort of each other’s arms under his sheets. To any normal person, that may have been crossing a lot of lines in terms of platonic-ness, but we’d been doing it for so long it seemed stranger to stop doing it.
That meant lazy days were spent in a circulation of drifting in and out of sleep while cuddled in Riftan’s arms or reading raunchy romance novels—my newfound obsession.
In the past, I’d always thought reading to be for the intellectual types—something I never saw myself as. Since procuring endless amounts of time, I’d dabbled in reading romance, only to find out how perfectly it suited me. I was easily enchanted with the many stories of love and passion—the spicy kind I wasn’t allowed to have myself—and found myself tantalized by the vivid and lustful pictures an author could paint in the minds of their readers. The kind that could make my heart race while sitting still. Maybe that was an externalization of my own sexual tension. Regardless, I could officially admit that it’d made me a book girl.
Shoulder to shoulder on our bed, Riftan always noticed how my heart would stir, though rarely looked over, knowing well what the cause was. For whatever reason, this time, he’d been bolder, peeking over my shoulder.
No matter the contents on the page or how well they pulled me in, I’d always notice when Riftan got close, his gaze like electricity sending a gentle zap whenever he looked my way. Unlucky for him, I wasn’t shy about what I was reading. I let him skim the page, waiting patiently for him to get an eyeful of more than he’d bargained for. I knew he’d seen enough once he pulled away, muttering something about “raunchy smut.”
I giggled. “What? You don’t like it?”
“It’s rather gruesome,” was his answer.
Setting my Kindle in my lap, I cocked a look at him. “I don’t think gruesome is really the right word for a romance novel. Obscene, maybe, but it’s not really the same thing.”
Riftan shrugged and gestured to the Kindle. “You know nobody actually does that, right?”
“What? The thing she did in the novel?” I asked, recounting the steamy specifics that had been so brilliantly interpreted by the filthy mind of whatever pervert had written it.
“Yes, that. It was embellished to the point of inaccuracy.”
“That’s not true. I can do that,” I quipped.
Riftan blinked at me, the muscles in his jaw jumping under the skin but not displaying any further emotion. A glimmer of pink on his nose was the only indication of the cause of his expression—or lack of.
Jumping onto my hands and knees, I maneuvered the sheets so I wouldn’t be tangled and crawled toward Riftan. With a teasing and sensual bat of my eyelashes, I asked, “Would you like me to show you?” It was a joke—I knew he’d refuse—but it still made my heart run like a racehorse.
His eyes widened and I reached out, trying and failing to catch him before he skillfully slipped off the bed and ran from me. He murmured something about a “flippant minx,” which surely was me, and rushed off toward the bathroom. Thankfully, he didn’t sound upset; more dumbfounded than anything.
“Hey, wait.” I laughed, flopping down onto the bed where his heat still resided. “I was kidding, Riftan, come back.”
He didn’t respond but shut the bathroom door behind himself, clicking the lock into place.
I sighed. The unfamiliar sound of a lock being used in the condo was a small grievance that weighed heavier on me than it should have.
After listening to the water run for a couple of minutes, a short stint of silence, and a sigh, Riftan unlocked and peeked his head out of the bathroom door. “Do you want to go dancing tonight?” he asked, his tone as ordinary as ever.
“Yeah, sure. What for?”
“Because I want to,” he scoffed. “But if you really must make it out to be some sort of lesson or something, then the reason will be to teach you that you can do whatever you want, for whatever reason you want. Call it your final lesson in immortality. You don’t answer to anyone but you anymore, so do whatever you wish.”
He hadn’t meant anything negative by that, as I could see plain as day by his relaxed appearance, but I couldn’t help feeling put down by his justification, especially the “final lesson” part. It made me feel like our time together was coming to an end—that this was our last hurrah. Sensing my apprehension, he added, “I promise it will be fun. Please, love? I want to get out tonight.”
I wondered if he genuinely believed the lack of possible fun was what soiled my mood toward the idea. Regardless, the irony of his pleading with me didn’t go unnoticed. He had, after all, insisted an immortal should answer only to themselves. I supposed that argument was slightly different when they had a partner to please.
A partner.The idea of sharing a mutual partnership with Riftan made me weak in my bones.
If positivity was the goal, then I’d tell myself that after my final lesson I’d have gained enough mutual respect for Riftan to consider me a partner. Though, that wouldn’t solve the issue of him being afraid to break my heart.
“Whatever, I’m fine with going out,” I responded, my mind wandering on to so many variable opportunities with him.
Uncaring to read into my vacancy, Riftan re-shut the bathroom door and I listened as he started the shower. Once he’d stepped inside, the pitter-patter of water against his skin drummed restlessly through my ears thanks to their formidable hearing.
The noise painted a picture of him, completely bare and standing under the cascading water. He probably had to duck to wet his hair, but it was long right now, and I could imagine how he’d brush it out of his face, flexing the muscles in his arms as he raised them up over his head. Water would fall over his chest, cascading along the many ridges on his abdomen and dripping from his… My breath halted, my heart pounding with such a sickening ferocity that I had to clutch my chest to know it wasn’t going to beat right out.
Seeking distraction, I picked up my Kindle, only to get one line in and remember what I was reading and know that it would only make my condition worse. My core was already throbbing, and reading as little as I had sent a hot spasm flooding from it.
Tossing the Kindle onto the bed, I didn’t watch as it bounced onto the floor. I was already face down on my pillow, whining because I knew Riftan would come running if I screamed. Though screaming into my pillow was what I’d have preferred.
I slipped a hand between me and the sheets, clamping it tight between my legs. The pressure only marginally relieved the ache, which I knew wouldn’t subside from my own hand—not when it was Riftan it wanted.
Once upon a time, I knew a version of me that would obey my natural instincts to abate this feeling and jump right into the shower with Riftan, regardless of his presumed arguments. Unfortunately, I no longer knew her, and Riftan had been completely wrong about my ability to control myself.