A/N: Look at the title! It's so great to finally be able to write something in Dutch! What do you think it means? Don't cheat! Haha. X
Forty-four: Ik hou van je.
"I'm starting to feel sorry for them, and that says a lot," Kate mumbles as she leans against me a little to make sure nobody hears her.
"They got themselves in this mess in the first place," I whisper back.
"But the food really tasted like shit," Kate counters, and I can't hold in my giggle. "Look at their pouts."
We're sitting in the dining hall of the hostel since we took away their chance of choosing an activity as punishment for what happened yesterday evening.
The terrors started the chaos, but because everyone joined, we can't really send them home, even though I swear José wanted that. Instead, we've decided to take away their choice and choose the activity for them.
We had to improvise since there isn't really much to do in the hostel, but we were able to borrow a PlayStation Two from the owner of the place. He happened to have that at home, and he was nice to go and get that, along with the game Singstar. I guess he understood that we were desperate with all the hormonal teenagers.
So now we've set the PlayStation up, pushed away the tables and made four teams to do an old fashioned battle. I think the students hate it just as much as we do, but most of them realize that I don't have anything better to do so they just tag along and make the best of it.
Everyone except for Christian, John, Dave, Leila, Sara, Shailene and Luna. They are sitting on the chairs that stand against the wall, separate from the group. They all look as if they want to kill us, and I bet they are counting the minutes until we tell them they can go to bed.
Unfortunately for them and for us, José and Lopez are planning to torture them and make this party last.
"What do you suggest we'd do?" I ask Kate after I've studied the group for a few seconds. Christian hasn't really looked at me even though I have to admit I've been focussed on him ever since our short talk in front of the Milkmaid.
Today we went to the Anne Frank House and the Royal Palace at Dam Square. My thoughts and attention should've been completely absorbed by my surroundings, but instead, I could only steal glances at him.
He again seemed interested in what he saw in the Anne Frank House. Just like when we were at the Rijksmuseum, he studied everything he saw intently; he read the information and didn't walk with John and Sara. He was on his own, absorbing everything he saw curiously.
Except me. He didn't look at me once. Or at least not that I'm aware of. Not even when José once again tried to talk to me. This time I subtly told him to keep a proper distance, and to my surprise, he reacted well to that. He even apologized. I'm not sure if he completely meant it but he hasn't come that close again.
"I'm not sure," Kate answers. "But this song isn't making anything better."
I chuckle and nod my head in agreement. A few students of team B are now singing Like a Virgin of Madonna, and it's not a success. The fact that Diana Zarkis is dancing around to make it more party like is making it cringeworthy.
"This is really bad. We should stop her for her own good," I tell Kate.
Fortunately for us, the music ends, successfully stopping Zarkis' show. After that, team B steps aside to make space for team C. And then the whole bickering about which song they want to sing starts again. It's exhausting.
"Dear God, I need alcohol," Kate mutters as she rubs her face.
I'm about to respond when I'm stopped in my tracks as a memory I've stuffed away very deep flows to the service. All the hairs on my body stand, and suddenly I feel like I'm suffocating. The blood drains from my face, and all I want to do is run away, but my feet seem glued to the ground.
The song team C has chosen is one that I know from start to finish. I can sing along every word, but not because it's one of my favorites. It's because the song is connected to the single, most horrible experience in my life, and hearing it now after so many years, makes my stomach turn.
Wham! - Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.
My ears begin to whiz, but it's not hard enough to block out the tones of the happy song. It overtakes me completely, up until the point where I see him dancing in front of the tv, while Luke and I are looking at him with smiles on our faces.
His eyes shine as he twirls around the room, mimicking the moves of George Micheal, who is dancing behind him on the tv, wearing the pink with yellow gym outfit. Dad looks so happy, and because of it, Luke and I are too.
And then he crashes to the ground, right when the chorus starts.
Wake me up before you go-go,
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo.
Wake me up before you go-go,
I don't want to miss it when you hit that high.
Wake me up before you go-go,
Cause I'm not planning on going solo.
Wake me up before you go-go,
Take me dancing tonight.
The moment the shrill, false last note of one of the students fills the room, my feet finally seem to be able to move. I hear Kate calling my name vaguely, but it doesn't stop me from running to the door. I'm just able to mutter a 'be right back, just a moment' in hopes she doesn't follow me.
I run through the hall, heading for the exit of the hostel. When I reach it, I throw the door open and rush outside, hoping that the fresh air makes the sight of dad's smile fade away.
I run around the corner, where I saw a bench this morning when we were walking towards the tram stop. It seemed like a quiet place back then, and right now, I think that's exactly what I need.
As I sit down, I force my breathing back to normal, and when my hands find my cheeks, I realize that tears have left my eyes. It's all because of the impact of that song. A song I hadn't heard in years, but takes me back to that moment as if it were yesterday.
Every time I hear it, I feel the same as that night. I feel the confusion that I felt when he crashed to the floor, the horror when we turned him over and saw that it wasn't good. I feel just as powerless as I did back then when Luke and I had no clue what to do.
And after that rollercoaster of emotions, I feel the grief when the doctors told us it was too late. When they told us he didn't make it.
I pull my feet on the bench and lay my face on my knees, arms around my legs. I close my eyes and try to work the song out of my brain, where it seems to hit repeat over and over again.
I don't know how long I sit like that. Hours, minutes, or just a few seconds, I have no idea. My head only lifts from my knees when I feel the presence of someone that takes place next to me on the bench.
"Are you okay?"
For some reason, I'm not surprised it's him. I felt it. What I am surprised about, is his question. Everyone else would've asked me what's wrong, but he asks if I'm okay.
"Yeah, it's just..." I wave my hand to cover everything that gets stuck in my throat. Tears tickle my eyes again, and I'm forced to take a deep breath in order to hold them back.
"The song," Christian softly says, nodding his head understandingly.
My eyes meet his as I look at him questioningly. In answer, he grabs one of my hands in his before he says, "you told me that your dad danced to a song of Wham! when he suddenly crashed to the ground. When I saw you run away, I knew it had to be this one."
I can't believe he remembered that. That night was so full of new experiences and heavy emotions, that I'm surprised that this information stuck to his mind.
"Right,'' I mumble. "It's just that I hadn't heard that song in a very long time, and it kind of took me back to that moment."
He squeezes my hand and nods his head. "I understand. I have the same, only with scent. It's your brain connecting dots. It fucking sucks."
"What do you mean, you have it with scent?"
He is looking at something nonexciting in front of him, his thumb lightly rubbing over the hand he still holds. For a moment I see him close off, but just when I think he won't answer my question, he speaks, soft but strong.
"My mom was an addict and when I was four years old, I found her in the bathroom. She had overdosed; a needle was sticking out of her arm while she lay on the tiles, her head against the bathtub. She was pale, but her lips were blue and her eyes were bloodstained. She was cold when I touched her to wake her up. When I found her, the bathroom smelled like her shower gel, cinnamon. Every time I smell it now, my stomach rolls as it takes me back to that exact moment."
I'm completely taken aback by his sudden confession. I always felt that he didn't like to talk about the things that happened to him and the relationship with his aunt and uncle. I sensed it which is why this is shocking me to the bone.
"What was she addicted to?" I'm desperate to know more now, and the question that first comes to mind is out before I've thought it over.
"Alcohol and heroine. She was eighteen when she had me and just lost. The only one that looked after her was my uncle Carrick. But my mom didn't take the help they offered. Carrick tried to get me out if there but it takes a while before they take a child away from their mother. In the end, he was too late."
He speaks without any emotion, his voice monotone and almost as if he doesn't care about the fate of his mother. Almost, because in the far, far distance, I hear that he does. I hear anger, but I also hear sadness, even if it's just a drop of it.
"You must miss her," I weakly say, sensing that he won't ever admit that.
"I don't," he says, determined and without thinking it over. "I guess I believe that she loved me in her own, fucked up way, but she loved the crack and drinks more. I'll never forgive her for that. I don't care how lost she was, I should've been the reason she wanted to stop all that shit." His hand squeezes mine harder, obviously angered by what he tells me. "Besides, once Carrick and Grace took me in, I had everything a child needs. They gave me love, attention, safety, and food. They helped me with the grief and offered me all the help I needed as a traumatized four-year-old. I never had the change to miss her because they replaced her properly from the moment she died."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, not knowing what else to say. What can I say? I know that hearing the famous 'I'm sorry' doesn't help at all. I've heard it many times too, and it always pisses me off. But right now, I'm at a loss of any other thing to say.
"It's been a long time," he shrugs. He then lifts his hand and wipes a lost tear from my cheek with his thumb. "But we were talking about you."
His simple gesture makes me want to jump him. He is so close, and for the first time, we're actually talking about our lives. About our personal things, things that formed us into who we are now.
"I'm fine. It was just the stupid song," I tell him, still feeling the tears behind my eyes. It's not just because of the song though, it's also because Christian is this close. It feels intense.
He lifts my hand, his eyes still on my face. When his lips touch my fingers and leave a featherlight kiss there, his eyes darken. "You shouldn't be fine, Ana. You should be spectacular. You deserve that."
I take in a sharp breath, his comment making me weak. It takes me back to when he said that, and how I felt then. When everything between us was innocent and small. When he teased and I hated.
"You can't say things like that, Christian. We can't."
He moves a little closer to me, his hands moving to my cheeks as he forces me to look at him. "I know you miss me. I feel it. I know you only ended it because you felt that we changed that weekend. I feel it too, Ana."
"I don't even know what I feel, so how could you be sure I feel the same as you?" I ask him, leaning my forehead against him. I need to be closer.
He softly chuckles, his nose bumping to mine once. "Trust me, I just know."
I see his eyes twinkle, and before I know it, the question that's consuming my mind from the moment he left Lake Washington is out. "What do you feel?"
He takes a deep breath, seemingly thinking about my question for a few seconds. After that, he pulls back a little so I have a clear vision of his face.
"Everything. I feel hate when I look at you, I feel desire. My thoughts are completely consumed by you and every step you take. Memories of you and me and everything we did never leave my mind." He pauses for a moment, and I hold my breath, fearing that his next words will make everything way more complicated.
"And I know I'm not allowed to," he takes a deep breath, "but I love you."
"You are such an idiot," I mumble, now properly crying. The way he says it, makes me weak. And I so wish I could tell him the same, but right now, I can't.
He smirks and kisses my nose, not even remotely offended by what I'm saying. "You've called me worse."
"I can't tell you the same Christian. I really don't know what I feel. I've been in love before, and it felt nothing like what I feel for you. With you, I feel so many things at once, and it does consume me, but not always in a positive way."
When he just nods, I continue. "And I wish I could tell you that we'll figure it out, but I can't. I can't because I'm still married. And Colton isn't going to give me a divorce easily. He will drag it out and fight me, and I need all my focus on that. I can't-"
"I can help you," he interrupts, his grip on my cheek a little stronger before he moves his hands from my face. "I know something that can maybe help you."
"What do you mean?" I frown.
"Colton cheated on you with his assistant, right?"
My eyes widen slightly in surprise. How the hell does he know that? "How do you-"
"That woman is Leila's half-sister. That's how Leila knows about how Colton cheated on you. He was with her for four months before you found out and he called it quits."
"Valerie and Leila are sisters?" I can't believe this. Out of everyone, it had to be Leila.
Christian nods his head. "Yeah."
"What else do you know?" I demand. I've never bothered to go after information about his assistant Valerie. Now that I think about it, I know that was stupid. I should've asked more about her but as always, Colton's influence was too big.
"Not much," he shrugs. "Just something about how he is into kinky shit. I don't really know."
He looks uncomfortable talking about this, and I would ask about that if alarm bells didn't go off in my head.
Kinky shit.
Colton knowing about Luke.
Does that connect in some way?
"Can you find out more?" I ask Christian. The tears are forgotten, and I suddenly feel the need to dig into Colton's life like I never have before.
"I'm trying to," he answers. "But Leila is like a cat in heat and that makes things complicated."
I roll my eyes. "Just like Sara." It's out before I know it, and I hate how jealousy drips from the sentence.
He roughly grabs my chin and once again forces me to look at him. "For fuck sakes, Ana. There is nothing going on between me and Sara. She took a sleeping pill, and that's why she was out. She just fell asleep against me and because I knew that you looked, I let her sleep like that. Didn't I just tell you that I love you?"
I shrug as an answer, not knowing what to say. Before I register what happens, Christian slams his mouth to mine unexpectedly, and starts kissing me roughly.
Although the first thing that comes to mind is to push him away, I don't. I let him take control of my mouth, the way I've been desperately thinking about for weeks. It feels even better than I remembered.
"I don't want anyone else. Not Leila. Not Sara. I want you. I want you even though I can't have you and even though you're a fucking bitch," he growls against my mouth, his breath cold on my wet lips.
My hands move to his hair, gripping the strands and pulling him even closer to me. It's desperate and raw, like always and it makes me wonder how I got on without it. Without him this close.
"Oh my God."
A voice to our right breaks us apart as if we're on fire, and when I look at the direction of the voice, I see Sara standing just a few feet from the bench. Her mouth hangs open, her eyes wide.
I immediately panic and jump from the bench, creating as much distance between Christian and myself as possible. Christian stands from the bench as well, but he walks towards Sara to grab her arms, no doubt preventing her from going anywhere even though she looks stupified.
"What the hell?!" She hisses, her nails in Christian's forearms,
"Just listen," Christian tells her, his tone forcefull but I can hear the panic as well. "Please, don't tell anyone what you saw."
I nod my head fast, but Sara doesn't look at me so I'm not sure why I even bother. For once, I have no idea how to behave or what to say, so I'll just let Christian do the talking for now.
"But she is... And you are... And we are here...And she is married," Sara stutters, failing to speak in normal sentences.
And as if this isn't horrible enough, I hear José and Kate in the distance, calling my name. It feels like they are miles away, but they aren't since just a moment later they turn around the corner as well.
José looks from Christian and Sara to me. I can see the wheels in his head turning while he tries to figure out what he is actually looking at. Kate's looking at me, her expression between panic and something else I can't place.
Christian looks at José while he straightens his back, his hands still on Sara's arms. Sara still has the look of total disbelieve on her face, complete with the wide eyes. And I'm shaking like a leaf, although I manage to straighten my shoulders to prepare myself for the questions they'll ask.
"What's happening here?" José demands while looking at Christian and Sara.
The three of us all stay silent. I couldn't even speak if I wanted to. I'm too busy praying that Sara won't say anything, although I'm almost one hundred percent sure she will once she's over the shock.
"It's none of your fucking business," Christian growls, never letting go of Sara.
"Wrong, Grey. It is my business and I want answers. Now," José hisses, taking a step forward. "Anastasia?" He demands yet again, now looking at me.
"I... He..," I stutter, not even sure what I want to say. I wave my hand back and forth, but I don't have a plan. At all. This is even worse than when Gail caught us.
"Christian and I were here," Sara suddenly says, surprising me and Christian. "Mrs. Davies walked by and caught us."
"Caught you doing what?" José asks, his arms crossing in front of him and his eyebrow raised.
"What do you think?" Christian spits when he sees that Sara looks a little unsure.
"Did you want to come here with him?" José asks while looking at Sara, and I can't help but roll my eyes. He really desperately wants something against Christian, and this is just insulting.
Christian is about to flip the fuck off but Sara holds him back by placing her hand on his chest. I'm thankful she does.
"Yes. Yes, I wanted to be here," she answers, her voice now surer.
"Is this true, Ana?" Kate asks, breaking the heated gazes between Christian and José. Her eyes are begging me to say yes even though she knows it's complete bullshit.
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. "It is," I eventually nod. "I needed some fresh air and when I walked back I found them on this bench."
I feel horrible for saying it. Not because I'm lying, but because the idea of Christian and Sara on this bench, kissing and doing whatever else, makes me sick.
José nods at Sara and Christian after he's been quiet for a minute. He then motions with his hand in the direction of the entrance of the hostel. "Inside, both of you."
Sara immediately starts walking, head bowed, but Christian stays put for a few seconds longer. Only when Kate tells him to go inside once more, he starts walking, his gaze solemnly on José until he disappears out of view.
"Is there anything else that we need to know?" José asks. I know he wants to know what I saw exactly.
"No. They were just kissing. Don't worry, there's no problem. Not now and not in nine months."
José nods his head. "We need to keep a closer eye on them."
"Right," Kate pipes up. "Which is exactly why we need to go back inside, right now."
I nod my head in agreement and walk in the direction of the entrance, Kate right next to me. José follows us as well.
"Are you really okay?" Kate mumbles softly while we walk, making sure she's not overheard.
"I am," I nod.
And it's all because of Sara. I have no idea why she did it but I promise myself right here and now that I will thank her for it the moment I have the change.
When we enter the hostel once again, I think back at what Christian told me. He loves me and he wants me.
Previous times when he said he wanted me, I doubted if he exactly knew what that would entail.
But as he said it moments ago, I saw that he fully understands now. I believe that he loves me, and that's exactly the reason why I find myself thinking about how we can overcome all the obstacles and make it work.