Chapter 11 #2
“Yes. You say obsess, and I do. You hand me a script, and I play in it. There is no limit to what I am willing to do—privately or publicly. You can test me on that if you’d like.
I don’t have shame, and I’m working through my fears because they aren’t grounded in logic.
I will become what you want, through trial and error, knowing that you don’t penalize error because it is often what makes a story that much more fascinating. ”
My nerves tangle with the wingbeats. “You’d abandon yourself so easily to play by my scripts?”
“I am whatever I am. From moment to moment, my choices define my character. This is not abandonment—this is a revelation. I am the sort of person who takes the opportunities I am given. Inevitably, my interpretation of what you give me will taint my roles. Like before, in the kitchen when you handed me the knife, I rewrote that section in my own words. In that way, I can abandon nothing of what I am that matters. That will be how it is.” He lowers his face and his grip, until I find his hand locked around my throat.
The sensation trips across my tangled nerves, blessing them with firework sparks.
His lips touch my forehead, and my eyelids grow heavy.
“You will learn to love me, because you will cover me in your fingerprints until I am someone you find lovable. You will learn to love me, because I will dress you in my fingerprints until you can’t look at yourself without seeing me anymore.
You will love me, August, because there is no world in which you do not.
You said, make me.” His nose traces down mine, then his breath is on my lips.
“I will. I will make you, and I will go further than making you because my character has always erred on the side of overachieving. I will make you love me, because that is inevitable, and I will make you beg, because that…might be a challenge.” The smile in his voice ignites me.
“You like slow burn, my darling lotus? Get ready.” His thumb caresses my pulse, then his lips nip at my throat.
“This one shall be nothing short of suffering.”
He pulls back, and I’m left frigid on this warm, warm night. Body ablaze, breaths uneven, I behold him once more—surrounded by the swelling dark, glowing in the firefly light, and smiling like the wicked lead in any of my romances.
My lips tremble as they part, and then I exhale, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Well. Cuss word. Basically.
“Dominic?”
“Darling?”
“Would you like to go out with me? Swimming maybe? Sometime? There’s a lake here. We can bring a picnic lunch.”
He arches a brow. “That sounds rather dating, if you ask me, and I’ve been told we’re not dating somewhat recently, should my memory serve.”
“If you keep the dark promises you’ve just teased me with, I’ll allow dating.”
He hums, tucking his fingers into his pockets. “Dating…on night three… That’s not particularly slow burn or trying to kill me of you, now is it, little saint?”
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. He’s so right. I’ve forgotten myself—and the plot. Intelligently, I say, “Oops.”
“You’re cute when you can’t help but want me.”
Hehehe. Toes wiggling, I sit there—like an idiot who very quite nearly might want him. Badly.
“Next weekend,” he says. “We’ll go to the lake. I’ll pack a picnic. And then I shall take my time attempting to seduce you—to no avail. Understood?”
I nod, wondering who exactly is supposed to be in charge of the script anyway. “To no avail. Got it. I am a bastion of self-control.”
He scans me, judging my incurable case of wiggles.
“Right. Exactly.” Capturing one last lightning bug and placing it in my hair, he says, “I’m very glad you understand the situation, my sweet lotus flower.
” Tipping my chin up to reveal my throat, he lays a final blazing kiss to my pulse. “Until then, dream solely of me.”
I feel his retreat toward my back door like a tug in the pit of my stomach. Before he can vanish completely inside, I stand, and the swing rocks into the back of my legs. “Dominic.”
Fingers latched around the handle of my back door, he pauses and looks at me.
I forget what I was trying to say. I forget everything. I get lost in his eyes. Their ocean-deep blue lures me in and entraps me. His head tilts, and that restarts my brain. I say, “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” he echoes.
“For…” I blink, lock my hands together behind my back. “I don’t know.”
A touch of humor warms his smile. “For…being me?”
I flush. “I…think so, actually. Yes.”
“I think, maybe, that’s something I should thank you for.” He releases the handle, turns, approaches again, and stops inches before me. “Not many people find my character as enticing as you seem to.”
Fools. The whole lot of them. “Not many people enable me like they should.”
“Tragic.”
“I know.” I jut my lip, then find his, and lose my theatrics.
“I just…want to make sure you know who you are is appreciated. It’s rare to find a character as confident and calculating as yours.
Many wouldn’t come to the conclusion you have about how you will lace any role you play, no matter what, because it’s impossible to dissect you completely from a script and the very act of choosing to play a role at all reveals who you are.
I think…one of these days…perhaps when you’ve got me completely under your spell and I’m utterly hopeless, I wouldn’t mind seeing you plainly. ”
He cups my cheek and runs his thumb along the curve. “Even if I’m someone quite plain?”
“Even then. At that point, I think it might just add yet another facet to all the things you are and all the things you have been and all the things you can be.”
His smile holds. “I adore the way your mind works. For all the chaos and unpredictabilities surrounding you, it makes sense to me. You’re passionate and confident and certain in a way I understand.
I want to know everything about you, and I want you to learn everything about me.
I want to entwine the unavoidable slice-of-life moments with the stories we’ll come up with.
I want to fill every day with the magic you wield.
Let me be your instrument. Let me be your everything. ”
There’s so much book fodder here. So much.
If it dares to stand the test of time…if this level of devotion could possibly be sustainable…then that’s it.
The next love story I write just might be my own.