Chapter 17 #4
Shakily, I drew in a breath.
His finger froze.
Crash.
Silver Spoon
Erin LeCount
I flinched, sat up, and pushed myself away from Davian before his head turned around too.
Lara.
I looked toward the doorway leading to the living room, but there was no one there.
“The puppy,” Davian cleared his throat, his face like that of a ghost.
Panic overwhelmed me.
That could have been Lara.
An uneasy feeling overwhelmed me.
He's not here, Quill. You're safe. No one's going to throw dishes at you here.
I hastily got up – ready to go upstairs and put as much distance as possible between my destructive personality and my best friend's father, who also got up quickly, his hand in his hair – but I overlooked the teacup on the edge of the table and bumped into it with my hand.
Shocked, I watched as the cup tipped over, as Davian instinctively reached for my papers and pulled them all back before the tea spread across the table and soaked into my sweatshirt.
With wide eyes, I grabbed the cup and hurriedly set it upright before my inner panic set in.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered, staring wide-eyed at Davian, who gathered up all my papers and took them to the dresser.
The tablecloth was soaked with tea, as was Lara's sweatshirt.
I stumbled back, unable to react.
“I'm really sorry...”
I hurried around the table, through the living room and hallway, into the kitchen, freezing when I spotted the dog in front of the pile of brown shards.
My instincts forced me to my knees, and I bent down and began to pick up all the shards.
“Quill?”
I flinched, looked up at Davian, new tears streaming down my face.
“I'm sorry. I'll clean this up right away. I...”
With the shards in my trembling hands, I rose to my feet. My vision blurred again.
“Quill.”
His serious expression sent panic through every fiber of my body.
“It's okay.”
His expression immediately changed to one of concern, and the fear disappeared from my system. He reached for my hands.
“Give me that.”
I clung to the shards.
“Quill...”
I finally let go, and he took the shards from me, carefully carrying them to the kitchen counter.
I hurriedly rushed forward to the other kitchen counter where the paper towels were, grabbed the entire roll, and turned around, but crashed right into Davian and flinched.
“Please give that to me. I'll take care of everything.”
Paralyzed, I let him take the roll from me.
I wanted to apologize for all the chaos, for the person I was, for invading his life without regard for the consequences.
He looked down at my sweatshirt.
“There are T-shirts in the bathroom. Please put on something dry.”
I nodded.
Davian disappeared back into the living room.
With all my strength, I forced myself through the hallway to the bathroom with the washing machine, on which a pile of washed T-shirts rested. Davian's T-shirts.
I stared at the T-shirts, hesitated, then finally grabbed a faded blue one and exchanged it for the sweatshirt, which I threw in the laundry.
With trembling knees, I returned to the dining room, feeling like the biggest, most conspicuous black ink stain on a piece of paper I never wanted to land on.
Davian, who was taking the tablecloth off, looked up, paused, and scrutinized me, then the T-shirt, then my... arm.
Instinctively, I put my left hand on my forearm and swallowed.
The panic returned.
Davian let the cloth sink onto the table without taking his eyes off my arm.
Before he could say anything and I could completely fall into a hole that not even he could pull me out of, I hurried to the dresser, gathered my papers, and shoved them into my leather bag.
I wanted to leave the dining room, but he pushed himself into the doorway, grabbed my arm, and stared at the brown streaks that would never get the chance to become shooting stars.
His jawbones worked rhythmically against the skin of his cheeks.
“When did you get these?”
I pulled my arm back far too quickly, even though his touch was everything I needed right now.
I wanted to go back into his arms, to his chest, I wanted to cry, but I had cried enough, stared at him long enough and put him in a situation that had almost made us cross a line.
Something inside me wanted him to say that I hadn't done anything wrong. But then we would both be lying to each other. My clumsiness was just the icing on the cake.
“Don't worry. They won't stay.”
I took advantage of Davian's stiffness to step back and walk past him.
On my way through the living room, I started playing with my thumb until it hurt. But in the hallway, I stopped, turned to him, and gave him a sad smile.
“Thanks, Davian.”
I didn't have to specify what I was thanking him for. He knew. And he looked as if I had spilled the tea on him.
That was the moment I knew that under no circumstances could I drag this man into my inkwell. He would drown. In the most painful way one could drown in this life.
One drop of your ink in my system is enough,
and my fingers move across the keyboard
of my typewriter as if by themselves.
And it's killing me.
– Leaking Batteries Diary