Chapter Nine #2
I’m not sure why I feel so guilty, or why I’m not just telling this guy that I fucked Rowan instead of interviewing him as I should have. But the blank stare he’s leveling me with and the tapping of his damn fingers are kind of driving me crazy.
“Didn’t have time to ask them all?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Something like that.”
The tapping finally stops, and that brings my attention back to Bennett. He leans forward onto the table, flashing me a grin that reveals those cute little canines.
“Well, I’m happy you came in for lunch. I should get back at it, and I’m sure you’d like some time to yourself. You look pretty tired. I’ll see you later, Eli.” Then Bennett is walking away, and I’m staring after him as he goes.
You look pretty tired.
He’s fucking with me. He knows what I did last night—he can probably see it on my face, or smell it on the clothes I have yet to change out of.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and pop another French fry into my mouth. What has my life come to?
I feel much more optimistic about being alive once I’ve showered. Fresh as a daisy and with nothing else to do for the day, I flop onto my couch and turn on the TV.
Only, nothing is holding my attention, and I can’t stop my mind from returning to last night. To his hands, his mouth, the way he settled so deep inside of me as if my body was molded this way specifically to accommodate his.
“Little angel,” he had said, staring at me as if I were a prize he had won. As if he’d been waiting for me for so long.
I am no angel—but fuck me if it doesn’t feel so good when he calls me one. When he looks at me as if I’m something to be worshipped, to be loved and cherished. I could play that part. I could be sweet and soft.
For him, I could.
And isn’t that, in itself, a startling revelation? The man who changes for no one—who feels nothing more than a fleeting attraction or appreciation—is willing to play a part so drastically different than his own.
Is that cruel? In doing so, am I actually acting as the truest version of myself by so selfishly keeping him bound to me through deception?
My head hurts. Debating the morality of wanting Rowan is making my brain explode.
And wanting him isn’t the only issue. It’s the amount in which I do, and the pain and fear that follow it.
Why does wanting him feel like the first right thing I’ve ever done, and simultaneously the only thing I’ve ever feared doing?
Like standing at the edge of a building, I teeter between the safety of what's behind me: Rowan’s arms wrapped so tightly around my body—and the terror of what’s below: the inevitability of losing him.
I am so new to this game, to the way of emotion, that I’m unsure if this is how I’m supposed to react or deal with my feelings. And who do I ask? Do I go back to therapy?
As if there is a force of nature looking over my shoulder, here to help whenever it can, my phone rings from beside me. Carrie, my sister.
She will do.
“Hello?” I answer, and Carrie’s voice rings loudly through the receiver.
“Eli, I need to rant,” she immediately rushes.
I laugh at her drained voice and her barely repressed groan. “Perfect, because I do too.”
“Great! Me first. So, I was just at Mom and Dad’s house, and Jess came by.”
“Oh lord,” I sigh.
“Shh, just listen. Anyway, I was there to get some of my winter coats, and she started asking me about work at the school, and I…”
I listen to my sister drone on and on about the meaningless fight her and our eldest sister got into. One that can only be possible through the heightening of useless emotions I do not possess.
“Have you considered not giving a fuck? Like, she pissed you off, but that just means you’re giving her the power to control your emotions,” I advise after a good amount of complaining.
Carrie is quiet for a moment, and I can hear it when she hums softly in apprehension. “Yes, that’s true. Okay, Eli. You’re right, thank you. You always have such a level head, I wish I were detached or whatever.”
“Wow. Thanks, asshole.” I roll my eyes, and if I could feel it, I’d be offended. I think.
Carrie just laughs in response, then says, “Well, what is it that you needed to rant about? I’m all ears.”
Clearing my throat, I take a moment to figure out how to tell her. I’m kind of nervous, or as nervous as I can be, to show her such a new side of myself.
“I slept with this guy last night,” I start, and she gasps.
“You’re not a virgin?!”
“You’re not funny. Shut up and listen.” With another laugh, Carrie falls silent. “But the thing about this guy is… the moment I first saw him, I felt.”
“Felt…?”
“No, Carrie, I felt. Like, overwhelming emotion. Good and bad and lustful and so much that I wanted to sob.”
“Oh my god,” she whispers, and I can hear the shock in her voice.
“I know. And I saw him a few more times before last night, and it never went away. I… I’m not sure why I feel like this, or what it means. But then last night—fuck, Carrie. I cried the whole time.”
“What?!" she shouts. "You didn’t even cry when our dog died! Or when you lost your virginity!”
“I know!” I groan, falling onto my back on the small couch. “I know. But I just… I felt him everywhere, and he kept saying such sweet things to me. He cried, too, by the way. We both cried so much. And even now, I want to see him again so badly.”
Carrie is quiet for another moment, and I stare at the ceiling while I let her process. Her baby brother, who has always been emotionless and detached, just told her he cried like a baby over some man, so she’s probably very confused.
“Elijah, I’m going to be honest,” she says, and I laugh.
“I would hope so.”
“I think it’s love at first sight.”
“What?” I nearly drop my phone.
“You can’t say it’s not; you don’t even know what love feels like.” She’s got me there. “I genuinely think something in you knows, and you’re overwhelmed because you’ve never felt this before.”
“That sounds batshit crazy, you know that right?” I ask her.
Carrie chuckles, and I soak in the sound, the familiarity of it. “So does having a brother who’s never felt love or hate.”
“Good point.” After a moment of silence, I speak again. “I have to see him again. I’m interviewing him for the paper.”
“Oh! You should feel out the vibe, maybe go on a date. I really think you should pursue this, all things considered.”
“But…” I release a loud, long breath. “These feelings kind of hurt. And they’re terrifying.”
To this, Carrie laughs again. And when she speaks, her voice is soft and placating. “Love normally is.”