Chapter 25
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Nothing like a little breakdown to spice up the a.m.
Zakery
In most tales of fantasy and high stakes, there comes a point in the story where the hero must face off against the grand villain who has—throughout the entirety of the tale—made his presence known in large or small ways. Oftentimes, however, that grand villain might be obscured beneath the facade of some other, who ultimately does not matter at all.
When I met Maelin, Harry seemed to be the grand villain. We even concocted a great plot to be his undoing.
Oh, how naive I have been.
Feverishly, I work, half delirious, half panicked. Lines fill my canvases, storyboards of wondrous adventure, outcasts, found family. It’s the only thing I can do to keep my mind off Maelin.
Maelin, Maelin, Maelin.
Maelin, who might marry me in fourteen days. Maelin, whose parents I have to convince should give me their blessing.
Maelin, beautiful, perfect, wonderful, soft, sweet, hot, addictive Maelin .
She takes up my screen, every panel a new angle of her—with a few side characters and scenes thrown in. One scenery panel simply has the scribble mountains here . My editor knows I can draw. He doesn’t need the proof at this point. He just needs the story, so he can mark it up.
And I just need my heart to stop racing.
In my skull, over and over, Maelin kisses me, lets me pull her on my lap, lets me draw all over her body. It almost killed me to take her home. It is killing me to not drive back at this hour and beg her to come hold me. Just… hold me . All night.
This is the problem with feeling.
I do not regulate. I do not participate in halves. I throw myself into the burning, lapping, fiery waves and find myself dashed to pieces.
It sickens me—particularly because what I’m feeling right now is a desire so deep it burns the very heart in my chest.
I want her in my hands. Spilling from my palms.
This feeling is not kind, gentle, or loving .
It’s just…desperate.
I love her.
I do.
I have decided that I do, so that will not change no matter what happens. If her parents see the flaws she is overlooking and banish me from her world, I shall mourn her eternally. I shall burn like this eternally. But I will not stop loving her. I will not be able to.
I can’t.
When my pen falls from my shaking hands, I reach for my phone. As the pen rolls across my floor and tumbles off the dais step, I find Princess in my contacts. I take a deep breath. I dial.
It is two in the morning, and I’m calling her.
I don’t know why.
I just know there’s a physical pain gnawing inside me, and I need a help only she can give.
She, by some mercy, picks up. “Hello? Zakery?” An edge of fear. Nothing of rest. “Is everything okay?”
No. “I… I’m sorry.”
Silence. “S…sorry? About…what?”
About what? What does she mean? It’s two in the morning . “For waking you.”
“Oh. Um. That’s all? I don’t mind.”
She doesn’t mind that I’ve woken her up in the middle of the night with a phone call when we haven’t spoken on the phone even once since she called me to accept my offer?
“Is something wrong?” she presses, gently.
“I might be having a panic attack.” Even now, I am not getting enough air. I’m gripping my free hand over my heart and feeling it thunder against my ribs. I’m shaking. It hurts to swallow.
Something rustles, then something thuds . Weakly, she says, “Ow…”
“Are you all right?” My voice pitches.
“Yeah. I just fell out of bed. It’s fine. Talk to me. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I just need to leave Morana a note and get the keys.”
I stand. “You don’t have to do that. It’s—” I choke. “—so late. I would never ask that of you. I— I shouldn’t even have called. It’s just. My head. I’m scared .”
“Shh,” she murmurs. “Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll be there soon.”
What’s going on? “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“What are five things you can see?”
Five…things? My gaze darts around my room as a car door opens and shuts in my ear. An engine starts. She’s on her way.
She’s on her way.
I can see…her daybed. Where she sits while I draw her. Her picture. On my wall. Sketches of her. On my drawing tablet.
“Zakery?” she murmurs. “What do you see?”
“You,” I whisper. “Just… you .”
By the time she shows up, letting herself in and meeting me at my room, I’ve squished myself into the corner beside my bed, and I’m crying.
For a thousand reasons I cannot begin to explain, I am crying .