CHAPTER 23
IN TOO DEEP
In what is an incredibly hectic time, Kate and I begin at Washington State University together.
It's been a blur of a couple of weeks, dealing with new class schedules and teachers and meeting new students, as well as settling into the single apartment near college campus that we share together as roommates.
A week in and Kate already seems to adjust to everything so much more effortlessly than I am able to; She blends in easily, making new friends in each one of her classes while I basically only make one in Jose, the guy I was familiar with from in high school. Jose and I end up having a few classes together like English and Human Development, which makes it easier to cope with all the changes happening around us. Fortunately for me, Jose seems to be struggling just as much as I am. Kate and I only end up having one class together; Fine Art. At least I end up getting the hang of it quickly into finding which building the classes are in, the Science & Engineering building being the main one.
Sad thing is, I find I barely have enough time to even begin missing Christian. My mind is constantly preoccupied that week with settling into the new lifestyle of college life. Even living alone- or well, sort of alone- in apartment with Kate where we have to learn to fend for ourselves is a challenging distraction.
But it's always at night, when I'm in bed in my small room in the apartment, completely alone, that the painful aching of missing him begin to truly hit me. Lying in my bed in the dark room, switching on my phone, staring at that picture I took of us with the camera- the one of us lying together, in bed, the morning after. It's practically the only one thing I have of him, the only one thing as a reminder of what we've experienced together, the one thing that keeps his face fresh in my mind properly throughout the week.
He said that he would give me at least a weeks space to settle in and find my footing at the campus before he would contact me, but it's already been a full, excruciatingly long first week and already, I am beginning to wish he would make some form of contact already.
Only every time this week, every time I glance at my phone for any signal of a message received from him, there's... nothing.
...
Not surprisingly, I become assigned designated chef in our apartment.
Waking early on our first weekend on a Saturday with the whole entire day free and no classes, I get up and dressed and begin making Kate and I a nice breakfast consisting of fried eggs and wholemeal toast. It's taken us a little time gathering all the essentials we would need for living in an apartment together, but I think we've managed.
Some of our belongings, mostly clothes, are still packed in boxes, pushed near the wall by the front door of our apartment because we have been too busy with settling into our class schedules to even begin mustering up the energy to begin unpacking them. So we've just left our clothes as they are. The kitchen is all unpacked at least.
I find the utensils and frying pan easily, flicking on the electric stove while Kate makes us our hot drinks; An English Breakfast tea for me, an extra strong coffee for her. Kate seems tired and lethargic this morning as she stirs sugar and creamer into our drinks; Her usually pale skin blotchy, blonde hair frizzy and all over the place, unbrushed. She's still in her slippers and pajamas while I'm already changed and feel bright and alert for the Saturday ahead of us.
"You feeling OK?" I ask her with concern as I crack open some eggs, splattering them into the warmed frying pan.
"I don't know," she mutters with a deep yawn. "I think the stress of this week is finally starting to get to me. Cramming in all this study and filling my brain is beginning to wreck havoc on my system."
"Well, you were doing so well," I compliment her while shoving two slices of bread into the toaster. "You wouldn't think you were stressed out by the change at all. You seemed so composed and energetic this week."
"I feel anything but composed and energetic right now, that's for sure." She places my mug of tea on the table while nursing her warm mug of coffee in her hands, her shoulders slumping over the table glumly. "I think tonight's gonna be an early one for me already. I think I'll be having an extremely lazy, extremely easy weekend in the apartment to recoup from it all."
"Maybe you'll feel better after breakfast then," I tell her hopefully.
"God, I hope so." Distracting us, her ring tone goes off from in her bedroom. Someone's calling. With another yawn and a roll of her eyes sleepily at me, Kate pads her way clumsily into her room to answer her phone. She greets the caller without enthusiasm, and I listen in as she comes back out of her room. "Yeah, we're doing OK so far, I think. But it's only been one full week and, already, I am dead tired..." I turn my back on her while flipping the eggs over in the pan. "Yeah, we're coping OK...Ana's doing pretty good."
I turn to glance over at her curiously from behind my shoulder at the mere mention of my name, wondering who she's talking to. I feel my heart pick up in speed and race within my chest as stares at me while listening to the person speaking on the other line. Is it her father? I can't help wondering hopefully. Has he finally called, and is now asking about me?
"Oh, really?" She mutters with interest, dropping her gaze to her coffee. She sips it nonchalantly. "Wow, sounds busy for you too, then... Like I said, we're coping pretty well so far." I can't catch any hint on whether it's Christian or even just her mom that she's speaking to. But then she says, "Yeah, I love you too. Speak soon, bye," and my heart goes even wilder with the beating. She hangs up with a sigh, dropping her phone on the table loudly.
"Who was that?" I manage while trying to sound normal and like I truly don't care either way. But I can't look her face-on; I find I have to turn my back on her, using the excuse of having to make sure the toast doesn't burn as my deliberate distraction. "Your Mom or your Dad calling to check in, maybe?"
"It was dad actually." It's probably pathetic, how my heart skips a beat at the mere mention of her father, but... considering that I haven;t heard from him all week, I'm basically hanging off whatever little small breadcrumbs I can get here.
"Oh, really, it was your dad?" I think I manage to seem casual about it. "How is he?"
"He said it's weird, being all alone in the house now. He also said that works been keeping him busy as well. Apparently they are doing re-hiring at his company so he's been preoccupied with all of that." Hmm, I guess that explains why I haven't heard from him then. He does have his own life and business to attend to. Of course he'd be busy with that. I still can't help the little tinges of sadness in my heart, the sadness of missing him, of not having heard anything from him, not even a simple text. "He said he had to travel for a few days for the new hiring process so he's feeling a little fatigued from that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. He sounded a little down and tired, but mostly OK, I think, from what I heard."
"That's great then," I murmur distractedly, then I realize I haven't been as diligent with the toast-watching as I first thought. Smoke wafts from inside the toaster. It's a new toaster, one we haven't properly set the timer on. "Crap, stupid new toaster," I grumble, pressing the eject button quickly. Our pieces of toast turn out a yucky black color as they pop up, but they are still edible. "Sorry, I think our toast is gonna be a little overcooked."
"That's OK," Kate mutters from behind me carelessly. "Is it a bit sad that I'm so starving that I would willingly eat it, no matter how burnt it is?"
"Nope, I'm with you on that," I mutter, yanking the toast out hastily onto each of our individual plates.
I focus on slathering heaps of butter on the black, crispy bits, although I know I'm not entirely there and present while I do it. All I can seem to focus on is what little I can go on, on what little I have to survive with. Kate's finally heard from Christian, and he's still alive and he is fine. Busy and tired from work- and a little lonely living alone now that Kate has moved out to the campus apartment we share together- but alive. I just wish he would contact me though. Even a simple text, like I said. He has my number, after all.
"I noticed you've been spending more time with Jose Rodriguez," Kate begins once I finish up with our breakfast, carrying the plates over to the table. We settle in, eagerly scarfing down our eggs on toast. "What's with that?"
"We have classes together, that's all," I explain simply with a shrug. "And he did go to high school with us. It helps to hang out with someone familiar." Because Kate and I don't have the same schedule, we haven't seen each other much this week, aside from lunch and at the apartment obviously. I've noticed her spending time with a group of girls. "Who are those girls I've seen you with so much during the week?"
"Just a few girls from the same classes together," she says with a shrug, her mouth full with egg yolk. "They're pretty cool. I'll have to introduce them to you sometimes?"
"Maybe."
We fall into a peaceful silence, just cramming our breakfasts into our mouths. Then Kate's the first to break it again. "What plans do you have for today?"
"Pretty much the same as you. I already have an activity to do for English so that's due on Monday. I'll probably stay in the apartment and do that."
"Damn, that's like me," she grumbles with a roll of her eyes. "Already, I've got some work to do for Sociology." She scrapes the last mouthful of toast into her mouth, then says, "Is it just me or is the work harder compared to high school?"
"Yeah, you definitely aren't wrong there. It's definitely going to be tough."
Seeing as she's the first to finish her breakfast, Kate stands from the table first, gathering up her messy plate, cutlery and mug. She stumbles over to the sink in our divided little kitchen to start washing up. I glance out towards the window while slowly chewing on my toast. The suns already risen and it seems like it's going to be a beautiful, sunny day. The view from the apartment isn't all that spectacular but it's decent enough to appreciate everything outside.
At least I have heard second-hand news about Christian, no matter how little that news is. It's something to go on.
..
That evening, after a slow, uneventful day of Kate and I just staying in and working on our individual work for our classes, I head into my room, shutting the door securely after calling it a night with her. I left Kate sitting out in the living room watching some crappy TV, even although I know it's only 10.30 at night and I feel wide-awake and not at all tired yet. I guess I was beginning to feel antisocial so decided being by myself for a little while was the best bet for me.
I get changed into my pajamas, switch on the lamp near my bed, and turn off the main light. My eyes land on the books I'd stacked as neatly as possible near the wall as a sort-of makeshift bookshelf. The books Christian had given me, The Great Gatsby, East of Eden...
I sigh loudly as I pull back the sheets and climb into my bed, leaning propped up against my elbow and my pillow as I reach for my phone. Even the books he gave me, they serve as a ptiful reminder of his absence. So he ended up calling Kate, his daughter, and asked even about me and how I am doing. I just wish he would have bothered to call me himself, or even text no less. I unlock the screen on my phone, feeling an immediate stab of disappointment. Still no missed call or text from him. Even after all we've been through together...
I miss him so much. The fact that he has called Kate only serves to make me miss him even more. It's been an entire week and I haven't heard zilch from him, aside from second-hand news from his daughter. Why hasn't he tried to contact me, especially after all that has amounted between us? I lost my virginity to him. Hell, I gave myself to him willingly, and we'd shared some great moments together, getting to know each other... kissing.
I even had admitted to him that I was falling for him, and that I didn't feel that way for any other guys, that I haven't ever before. He had even admitted to falling for me too, hadn't he? So why the absence? God, I want to see him. I want him to come see me. Ring me even, talk to me. I want to hear his voice.
Like I always seem to do lately, I thumb through the gallery on my phone, finding our photo, the only one I have of us. Him, hair ruffled, hotly unkempt, half-asleep. Me, looking so stupidly overwhelmed with glee as I peer back into the lens of the camera. Surely it had to mean something, hadn't it? All we had done together- it had to mean something, right?
I remember that night, sneaking into the recreation room at the house, how he played on his keyboard for me and the way it felt, him on his knees, holding my thighs apart. Tasting me with his warm tongue, prying me apart with his tongue, his moist saliva slick on me down there, the incredible feeling of it all. That had definitely been a first time experience for me, something I had to grant over trust willingly for him to do such a private intimate thing. Cullulingus was what I found out it was called later.
I hadn't heard of guys doing that before so it had to mean something personal to him, right?
This incredible need for him to be here, to feel him put his hands on me, his mouth, his everything... it overwhelms me to the point where I feel my eyes moisten. It's hopelessly disturbing, feeling this way. So hopeless, so bothered and desperate, Lovelorn, even. I have never felt this way before- ever- and it isn't a nice feeling at all, these deep feelings of anguish and sheer desperate need.
Doesn't he feel it, too? Doesn't he miss me as well?
...
English is the first class scheduled on that Monday morning.
As I rush towards the steps of the Science & Engineering building, clinging to my textbook and my completed activity homework beneath one arm while dodging numerous students rushing on their own ways to their classes, Jose makes himself known by calling out to me loudly.
I slow my rush to a dawdle, waiting for him with a smile. "Hey, Ana," he says breathlessly as he catches up with me, his voice winded from running. "How was your weekend?"
"Pretty quiet. You?"
"Same. Did you end up doing that activity that's due today?"
"I did. You?" We walk towards the rotating glass door and he holds it open to me while still trying to catch his breath. I smile at him gratefully, the embarrassed look on his face immediately telling me all I need to know as far as my question went. "You forgot to do it, didn't you?" I laugh. "Well, don't worry. I'll let you have a look at mine before we go in."
He grimaces while pulling open his satchel. "Thanks, you're a life-saver. I just completely forgot to do it. I blame it on watching too much anime." He pulls out his textbook, which is messily crammed with sheets of paper. Organizing is clearly not his strong point. "I got about a third's way through it though, I'm just not completely sure I-"
The alert sound on my phone distracts me, signalling that I've just been sent a text. I open the screen, half-listening to Jose stressing yet also half-not-listening.
It's like my heart has slammed to a sudden stop as I open the unread text, my mind going into overdrive:
Hey, Ana.
I apologize for not being able to contact you for a while but I assume Katherine's explained to you how hectic everything has been. I also thought you would appreciate some distance to adjust into your new lifestyle as college student.
I'll be staying at the Heathman Lodge this Friday through to Sunday morning, about roughly a twenty minutes walk from the campus apartments. Let me know if you are interested in meeting me there. If not, I understand and hopefully we can arrange a more suitable time for you that won't interfere with your time, but I hope that you will.
Words unable to explain how I've been missing you.- Christian.
My hand shakes as I reread the text, an uncontrollable smile coming across my face. He's contacted me. Finally! And he's asked us to meet. Another four days away, sure, but... still. It's better than nothing.
"Yo, earth to Ana?" Jose's crooning, joking voice startles me from my thoughts. I peer up at him quickly, knowing I am probably beaming. "You OK?" He must notice how I'm smiling because he smiles too, out of self-conscious confusion more than anything, I think. "What? Did I just say something funny? Why the goofy smile?"
"Oh, um, no, it... it isn't because of you," I mumble hastily, glancing down at the screen again. "I just, um... heard from someone I've been waiting to hear from all week."
Quickly, I reply, agreeing to meet him that Friday. Would I really give up such a chance? Of course not. Not with how much I've been missing him and longing for him. And, apparently he's been missing me too. 'Words unable to explain how I've been missing you'- is what his text said. It's all there. He's been missing me too. I'm not the only one after all. Just like that, all it takes is a few words on my phone and I am reassured, all my previous insecurities and doubts over the last week blown straight into instant smithereens.
I'm not the only one. He's been missing me too.
...
Friday couldn't have come early enough. I still had classes to go to that morning, of course, and I can't bail out on them.
But Christian and I had arranged for me to meet him in the foyer of the Heathman Lodge at 5.30 tonight, way after all my classes have finished for the day. Thanks to a quick check-up on Google maps, I think I'm positive I know how to get there easily. And all week, the waiting... all the anticipation. It's been hell.
The thought of seeing him after almost two weeks since I last did... the chance to be alone, to touch him. To have him physically hold me, kiss me... To actually just even see him in person and hear his voice... I cannot wait for tonight.
I had told Kate, not without difficulty, that I was going to spend the weekend back at my Mom's house, that she had contacted me and had requested to see me after so long away. To my relief, it hadn't taken much for Kate to believe the deception. It felt terrible, lying to her face at the time, but it had to be done. It was completely necessary. I couldn't very well tell her that I'm intending to spend almost three days in a hotel room with her father now, could I? Of course, I couldn't.
Still, the guilt of lying to her isn't easy to shake off. She's my best friend, and lying to her... usually I tell her everything. We usually do not keep any secrets between us. But this isn't only my secret to keep. Christian's involved as well, her father. It isn't just me I'm protecting in this. And besides, I know she wouldn't understand. She couldn't possibly understand. I know she would react badly to what has transpired between her dad and I. So keeping this between her father and I is necessary. Or so I keep convincing myself and rationalizing it.
...
"So you are going to see your Mom for the entire weekend?" Kate asks from her place from where she's settled herself, which so happens to be on my bed.
"Yeah, I'll be going there by bus." I can't quite look in her direction as I say the words. I haven't always been a very strong liar. "I read it'll take about probably four hours to get to Mom's house."
"Four hours is a long trip? Does she know you are already coming?"
"Yeah, she does. I think she's actually happy to see me for once." Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they are furthest from the truth. They taste wrong. Of course, I'm not actually seeing my Mom for the weekend, but Christian, Kate's father. But having told her it was Mom, it seems believable enough, despite Kate knowing that the relationship between Mom and myself is anything but close. "She should be interested in knowing how the first week of college has gone."
"Well, I'm pleased that things seem better between you two then. I know she hasn't really been there for you all that much."
I turn to look at her quickly while stuffing a pair of clean clothes into my duffel bag. I'm really just packing a few spare clothes for the two nights, just for the sake of having something decent and clean to wear. I don't particularly enjoy the idea of wearing the same underwear two days in a row.
"Yeah, things are definitely looking better between us."
She gives me a glum smile. "I'll miss you though."
"Aw, I'll miss you too, Kate. But it won't be for long."
"OK, but just text or call me when you arrive there? I want to know that you are safe."
"OK, I will, I promise." Finished packing everything I think I'll need, I zip the bag up, then haul it over my shoulder by the strap. "I'll call you first thing." Rolling off my bed, Kate follows me to the door of our apartment.
I turn to her and we hug tightly. It's as a pull back from her with a forced smile while she holds the door open for me, that my conscience stirs to life. Am I a bad friend? Definitely so.
Best friends definitely aren't supposed to lie to each other or make up some excuse to hide what they are really intending to do on the weekend. I am really committing the ultimate act of betrayal. For a second there as I stare into her eyes pitifully as she watches me leave, it runs through my head like a fantasy, a little scenario.
I tell Kate where I am really going, which is a fifteen minute walk away to see her father at his room at the Heathman Lodge. I tell her I lost my virginity to him, that I offered it to him. That whenever she had gone away to spend time with her mother, I had gone to her house alone and experienced amazing, incredible sex with her father. That I'm in love with him. And that I'm fairly certain he's fallen for me too.
I see it so vividly then as she waves at me with a sad smile as I start walking down the corridor to the stairs, my bag weighing my shoulder down. Kate's eyes flashing with anger, her immediate outburst of harsh words. I am a terrible person, a horrible friend. A backstabber, a liar. Maybe she would even slap me? I know she would definitely tell me that our friendship is over, that she wants nothing more to do with me because of what I have started with her father.
And could I really blame her, if so? Kate will probably hate me forever when the truth comes to light. Who knows? She may very even well be tempted enough to kill me.
Or maybe she wouldn't attempt to kill me? Maybe she could learn to be happy, if she sees the way we made each other feel?
I know he makes me happy whenever I am around him, and I think... I think I make him happy, too. Certainly happy enough to sort of move on from his ex.
Maybe she would forgive me, in time? If she really saw how we make each other feel?
I don't even know why I am entertaining the thought of telling her. My anxiety at the mere thought- it's over the roof, and I have to take a few calming breaths as I reach outside the apartment building. It's depressing and scary, the unknown thought of how she may take it all. I guess I am just not used to keeping secrets from my friend. Especially not something so major as this.
My anxiety shifts into something resembling excitement as I quicken my pace, walking briskly towards where I know he is staying for the weekend at the hotel. The anticipation of finally seeing him again, of being able to have his hands on me, his mouth... of just even simply seeing him smile, hear his voice, having him in close proximity... It spurs me into walking with longer, brisker strides. It feels like I have been waiting years to see him again. It has truly been too long.
As I reach the outside of the modern tan building with the large sign 'Heathman Lodge' scrabbled extravagantly out front, I stop for a second while trying to regain some equilibrium. I know it's going to be hard to not throw myself at him, the instance I do see him. But I'll have to try my best, for the sake of maintaining some dignity.
Breathing in deeply through my nose, I finally bite the bullet, striding towards the polished glass door. I push my way inside, searching around for any sight of him immediately.
Already, the hotel looks so sophisticated and artfully decorated even in just the foyer area. There is a large mahogany wood desk with men and women in business suits waiting around to check people into reception. There is even a waiting area with a large couch where people can sit with their luggage. Sparse green inside plants in every corner. Immaculately clean and shiny marble floor. It all screams posh.
Nervously, I gnaw on my bottom lip while glancing around again. That's when I see him. My heart leaps and dances in a strange, jittery way as his gaze meets mine from where he stands, eagerly waiting near the reception desk. My breath at the sight of him and all the oxygen in my lungs at the broad smile that comes across his face at the sight of me- gone, all at once. I may as well be dead.
God. Damn. I forgot how amazing his smile is. Even how infectious it could be, no less. I know I'm immediately looking much the same, as a large smile creeps up onto my lips in return as he starts making his way over to me.
He's wearing a light blue dress shirt, with dark blue tuxedo jacket and matching trousers. He obviously has definitely been here for work purpoises then, if his clothes are anything to go by. He's dressed like a businessman. I can hardly believe we're finally together again, after so long. I know it's only been like two weeks since we last saw each other but still, it feels like a lifetime. When he finally comes to stand in front of me, I feel like I can barely muster my voice to work coherently. I've just been waiting for this exact moment for so long. And I think he feels exactly the same.
My eyes run down the entire length of him appreciatively as he does the same, taking in my face, my clothes and what I'm wearing. He clearly hasn't shaved in a while, because he's got some stubble happening. And I think there's something different about him from what I remembered last time too. The hair, maybe?
"Hi," he finally says, his voice sounding just as breathless as I feel. "Glad you could come and that you found the place all right."
"Hi," I squeak out, unable to hide the excitement and happiness coating my tone at seeing him again. "Well, thank you for inviting me. How have you been?"
"I'm better now."
Forcing my eyes away, I glance across the building again. "This place looks very fancy."
"One of the many perks of having a high-paying job, I suppose," he murmurs while running his hand through his hair. "Should we head up to the room?"
"Um, sure. If you want to?"
"Of course." Surprising me, he slips my bag carefully off my shoulder for me and carries it himself, leading the way. He presses a button near an elevator and the doors open. "I'm staying in the master suite," he explains as we both step in. I lean against the wall nervously as he presses the button that goes up to the correct floor.
"Lucky you, then. This place looks incredible."
"Well, just wait until you see the room. There's room service- whatever fine food and beverage of your choice, whatever your heart desires." I feel like he's trying to impress me, yet he succeeded in doing that the instance I saw him waiting for me in the foyer. "And, to top it all off, we have our own personal spa bath." I smile in amusement, unable to help it.
"Really? There's even a spa bath?"
"There is. Impressed?"
"A little," I murmur honestly. "I don't think I've ever really been in a spa bath before. Is that strange?"
"Well, fortunately for you, you are in for a treat," he says with a short chuckle. And just like that... spine-tingles. I've missed those spine-tingling sensations he gives me, even merely by laughing or smiling.. or eating.
I realize my grin is still pathetically frozen in place as we fall silent, waiting for the elevator to bring us up to his floor. When I turn my head and look at him, side-on, I realize he's staring at me, something bright in his grey eyes. And that's what we simply do for a second or two; Stare at each other in silence, eyeing each other, familiarizing ourselves with each other. I still think there's something different about him.
"You seem... different?" I observe curiously.
Christian lifts up his free hand that isn't holding the strap of my bag. He runs his fingertips lightly over his chin while grimacing a little, in embarrassment I think. "I haven't gotten the time to shave in a while."
"Hmm, I figured as much, but I don't think that's just it, although the unshaven look suits you well."
"I also got my hair cut," he admits, and it's like a light bulb moment. It is his hair.
"That's what it is," I breathe, my fingers itching to reach up between us, to stroke my fingers through his hair, to feel it again. "I thought there was something a bit different about your hair. It looks good."
"You look good," he murmurs and I feel myself flush at his straight forward comment.
"Do I, now, Mr Grey?" I cannot help teasing.
"Yes, you do. Incredibly good." He makes a point of letting his grey eyes roam down my clothes, then up again, like he is purposefully checking me out. His audacity to playfully flirt with me.. it takes all I have not to crack up laughing. "You also seem like you've lost some weight, though, since the last time I saw you?"
"Maybe I have, but it would be unintentional, what with settling into my new crazy college life and everything." I shrug. "It's been a stressful week."
The look he gives me is one filled with both empathy and understanding. "Yes, I'm sure it has been," he says. "It's been a particularly busy week for me as well." Finally, the elevator stops on his suite floor, the mechanical doors sliding open. "Come on."
As we step out, he reaches over between us, taking one of my hands and holding it while we walk. I'm not sure why him doing that surprises me so much- but it's an extremely pleasant, good surprise. It only just makes those feelings of missing him, of happiness, well over to almost breaking point; the simple gesture alone. I blink up at him, smiling shyly while giving his fingers a light squeeze with my own, and a smile plays along his lips in return.
"Here we are," he says as we reach a door along the hallway that says 612. We stop holding hands so that he can remove the key out of his trouser pocket. "Have you had dinner?" he asks while opening the door. He stands back to let me head in first.
"Um, no, I haven't."
"Good, I haven't either. If you want, we can order from the menu and have it delivered to the room."
"Sounds great." I try to keep my voice light as I glance round the room.
Of course, I haven't stayed in a hotel room before, nor have I experienced the perks of room service. But this room, it's beyond incredible. The furnishings here are modern, very fancy. All muted pastels and soft purples. I wander over to the open, drawn-back curtains. His suite must be up on a top floor because the view of Seattle, it's incredible.
"Have you been staying in here at the Heathman Lodge for long?" I ask curiously, observing the tall skyscrapers lit up across from us.
"Actually, I only checked in just early this morning. We are restarting the hiring process, so we had to call in HR. This was the most suitable location for it."
"Oh, yeah. I think Kate told me all about that when you called that day. She filled me in on everything that you said you were going through."
I turn to look over at him from my place standing by the window, suddenly horrified at the thought of maybe making him feel uncomfortable at the casual name-drop of his daughter. Only, to my relief, he doesn't look uncomfortable at all. He stands there in the middle of the room, watching me, my bag on the floor at his shoes.
"Um, I suppose I should tell you that I told Kate that I was spending the weekend visiting my mother back home," I explain to him, just in case he needs reassurance. "Everything was normal when I left. I mean, I don't think she suspects anything at all."
He nods once at my words, lifting a hand to run his fingers slowly through his hair. It's impossible to know whether he does feel reassured or not, though.
I feel a sudden desperate urge to change topic, to keep things light and safer between us. "You know, I was a little upset that you waited so long to contact me." I allow a decent amount of teasing into my tone so he knows I'm truly over it now, that I'm past it all. "I was starting to think that maybe you regretted things between us or that... maybe you didn't want to see me anymore because you felt too guilty?"
"Not at all, Anastasia. That wasn't it at all." His eyes soften as he walks slowly closer to where I'm standing, shoving one hand into his trouser pocket deeply as he shakes his head. "I just assumed you'd be preoccupied with adjusting to everything new that's happening and I wanted to give you space, that's all."
He wanted to give me space to adjust to college life? I suppose I can't blame him then. It did make me miss him wildly though. Even just standing close, now... with him barely a step away from me. I could easily fling myself at him, throw my arms around his neck. It's taking everything within me not to, the need to be close to him again, to feel him holding me coursing through my blood stream, firing it up, heating every nerve and muscle within its path. But I shouldn't. Not yet. Seeing as I'll be here until Sunday, I figure there is plenty of time for that later. I'll just have to be patient.
"Speaking from experience, I know how hard it can be, how overwhelming. I thought you'd appreciate some distance for a while until you were properly settled."
"Well, I think I'm beginning to properly settle in now," I mutter reassuringly, blinking up at him. "I'm adjusting."
"Then that's great to hear."
i can barely take it anymore, my willpower has vanished. I throw myself into him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He holds me close for what feels like hours, his own arms snaking around my waist. God I've missed him. Everything about him; the feel of him, his smell. I feel like I'm home, where I belong weirdly enough.
"Hi," I whisper again into his shirt.
"Hi yourself," he mutters back.
Just like before when he decided to take my hand, it's a pleasant surprise all over again when Christian reaches up, clasping onto it. He une eaves my arms from his neck, trails his thumb over my fingers and it's like I'm all tingly from the spine all over again. Before I know it, he starts treading backwards while tugging on my hand and I follow him, until he crashes onto the large sofa behind us, bringing me with him.
Thinking to hell with it, instead of just plainly sitting beside him, I go one further and lift up with my knees on either side of him so that I am straddling him. I reach up with my left hand, grasping down onto his shoulder while he resumes holding my other, running his thumb back and forth over my knuckles and fingers repetitively.
The small curl of his lips at the edges of his mouth and the short, breathless chuckle he gives off as he arches his eyebrows at me shows me that I am the one pleasantly surprising him for once right now. It has just been too long. Keeping distance, not touching him, I cannot stand prolonging it after how long it's been since we saw each other last.
"Sorry," I whisper with a shy laugh, although I hardly sound- nor even feel- truly sorry at all.
Christian must hear the lack of sincerity in my tone, because he sends another spine-tingling chuckle my way as he mutters offhandedly beneath his breath, "No, you're not. I don't really believe you are sorry at all, Anastasia."
"OK, well, maybe you're right," I laugh, nudging him in the shoulder once playfully with my hand. "Terrible as it may be to you, I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit..." Unable to resist now that I'm near, now that I've got him basically stuck under me, I loosen my hold around his shoulder, moving my hand instead, gliding it slowly around the front of the smooth silky fabric of his tuxedo jacket, his collar. Somehow I forgot how good being in his company could feel.
Then again, I think everything with him feels good. Him touching me, him being near. His laugh, how he smiles at me. His voice. Everything.
"So tell me," he murmurs softly as I feel him lift his arm, his hand guiding up behind my back, holding me closer, keeping me upright against him. "Tell me how college has been for you... aside from the obvious in that it's overwhelming?" His fingers trace up and down the curve of my spine absently as he peers deeply into my eyes, watching me, staring at me with keen interest; Another thing I seemed to have forgotten about and had taken for granted; How interested he genuinely seems.
I suck in a deep breath, then let it all out heavily. Where to even start? "Well, even although I felt I had prepared myself for it all, it hasn't really... turned out to be quite what I was expecting." I bite down on my bottom lip, struggling for the right words as I melt against him, at the way his fingers artfully carress and massage my spine. "Even the classes... they seem so much more difficult compared to the way it was in high school."
"What were some of the classes you had again?" he asks. "I know Katherine said you both have Art together?"
"Yeah, just the one class unfortunately, which... makes it difficult. Kate's so easy-going and approachable; she's easily made so many news friends." Without thinking, I go off on a rant, not even really aware of what I'm saying. "Whereas the only friend I've made is this guy that I knew in high school. I think it was easier befriending him because there was familiarity with him there. But Kate-"
The noise of him clearing his throat meaningfully halts me, drawing my attention. I peer down at him while clenching my mouth shut, confused by the way he's looking at me. He raises his eyebrows at me, his eyes bright and shining with what seems amusement.
"What?" I blab out, confused.
He shakes his head at me. I can tell he's trying not to grin. "I asked how college was for you, not for Katherine," he points out with unrestrained humor. "If I wanted to know all the specifics and details, I'd ask Katherine herself. But what I want to know about is how you are adjusting with everything and how it's been for you."
Oh. My breath catches in my throat out of shock.
"Just you, Ana, honey." Honey. The combination of the tender endearment as well as Christian pointing out that he only wants to hear exclusively about me, both catches me off-guard yet makes me feel strangely amazed and touched at the same time. I cannot really remember anyone having plain, genuine interest in my own well-being all that much. Certainly not from my mother, who hasn't called me even once to check up on me and see how I am coping.
"Well..." I inhale deeply, still a little surprised. "As I said, the classes seem a lot more advanced than high school. But I think I'm doing OK so far. I do just wish I could easily blend in and make new friends easier."
"And why can't you?" he asks out right.
"Why?" Wouldn't that be obvious? "Because I guess I can be... shy. Insecure. Making friends doesn't come as easily to me as it does 'some' people." And by 'some' people, I'm hinting to his daughter obviously and no doubt Christian knows that himself. But he hadn't wanted to hear about her so I'm trying hard not to talk about her so much. I stroke my fingers and run them up and down his shirt, then begin fiddling with the little lapels around his collar. Speaking about college life seems suddenly so macabre, so boring. I find I want to hear more about what he is doing instead, so I change subject quickly, "So, aside from being busy with work, what else have you been doing since I last saw you?"
He presses his lips together into a tight line, his forehead and corners of his eyes creasing as he thinks my question through thoughtfully. "Nothing all that different, frankly."
"Have you been golfing with Taylor still?"
"Yes, still that."
"And what about The Grace? Have you taken your boat out sailing since?"
"Sadly, no. I haven't since the last time I took her out with you."
"Then what about Frank?" I ask with a light, teasing edge. "Have you been listening to 'good, old' Frank?" I ask, imitating him. Surely he has been listening to Frank Sinatra's music, like usual. I certainly have a few times since coming to college. I had downloaded some songs onto my IPod, songs that I listen to practically daily. Mainly only because I know Christian introduced me to him, and it's sort of been a special thing that causes me to remember him.
"You aren't going to believe me, but... I actually haven't been listening to good old Frank lately."
"No!" I make a pretend gasp of shock-horror. "Really? You haven't at all? But he's your favorite!"
"I know, but... it doesn't really feel the same anymore, listening to him."
"How can it not feel the same anymore?" I ask, confused. "You love him?"
"I know, but lately whenever I listen to his music, I start thinking of you. And that's..." He grimaces. "Hard."
Blood seems to gush to my face at his words. Listening to Frank Sinatra's music tends to make him think of me now? And what's more, thinking about me is... hard for him? Why? "Is it hard thinking about me because you don't want to... or?" I begin uncertainly.
"No, it isn't the thinking about you part that is difficult." He drags his hand swiftly up my back, and then I feel his fingers gently tugging and playing with the strands at the ends of my hair. "It's just the... missing you part that it leads to which becomes incredibly... painful."
I feel my breathing come to an abrupt stand-still at his words. So it's painful? He finds missing me painful? He misses me just as much as I miss him when we're apart then?
"I don't want anything to be painful for you," I whisper truthfully, yet I cannot deny the part within me that is greedily happy that he misses me as well. Uncontrollably and like my hand has a mind of its own, it fiddles with one corner of his collar, then it springs higher, my hand opening and fingers pressing flat into the hot, smooth skin on the side of his throat. I think I can feel his pulse twitching beneath my fingers. "Sorry," I murmur, bringing my hand up slowly higher, tracing my fingers up along his Adam's apple, then above to his chin. His skin there feels prickly, rougher from the stubble. "Sorry," I mutter again without thought. "I can't seem to stop touching you. I just want to touch you all over. It's been too long."
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip nervously, I lift my eyes, meeting his. He blinks back at me slowly, something deep and emotive building behind them. "Don't be sorry, Anastasia," he murmurs, and his voice sounds hoarse and deeper. "Touch me wherever you like. You won't receive any complaints from me."
"It's just that I..." I hesitate, not sure whether it's silly to say or not. Will he find it pathetic of me?
"It's just that you- what, Ana?" he coaxes, his lips parting. He licks his lips, moistening them, his breathing a little louder than I'm fairly certain it was a couple of minutes ago. I think it's because I'm touching him. Is he just as affected as I am? "Finish your sentence. You just what?"
Since he's asked so nicely and trusting he won't deem me stupid, I inhale in deeply, then let it all flow out again shakily. "It's just that I've really missed you and... this," I whisper, having to drop my gaze from his eyes. I focus on the smattering of hair on his chest instead, peeking out through the collar of his shirt. "I know it's only been really a week since I've seen you, but... I've missed you. I've missed not touching each other, like... we are now." I skim my fingertips up higher until I'm caressing the side of his face, his smooth, warm cheekbone. "The not seeing each other... the not even..." I pause, inching closer a little in his lap while inhaling in deeply. I think I can smell him. It's a familiar, comforting smell that is completely him, completely masculine. "Breathing in each other. I've missed everything so much."
That feeling I've felt lately, when alone in my bed at the apartment near campus, it overcomes me, that sharp sad throng of misery, of longing and deep yearning to be near him. I feel all of my skin prickle and lift with little goose-pimples beneath the unpleasant wave of it all, something stinging and heavy building in my throat.
"And then knowing that I'm missing everything and not... being able to discuss it with everyone, having to hold it in and keep it all to myself," I breathe out shakily. "I think feeling all of that this week has been even harder compared to being stressed with settling into the new apartment and college and all of that. The missing you, I think that's been the hardest thing of all."
Reluctantly, I bring up my eyes, glancing at him, trying to analyse what he's thinking or feeling about my confession. It's really impossible to tell whether he thinks I'm being a foolish idiot or not, but his hand, I feel it come up completely into my hair, until he's fisting a handful of the strands behind my head gently.
"I know it's probably silly of me," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that is honestly how I've felt ever since college began. It was missing you that's the worse, overly dramatic as it probably seems to you..."
"It's not overly dramatic to me," he murmurs strongly, finally speaking after a moment. "And that's the very exact reason why I couldn't stand listening to good old Frank anymore, Anastasia. When I do, I tend to miss you painfully- exactly in all the ways you just described to me." My heart, that ache, it seems to vanish over his reciprocation of my own feelings in regards to missing him like crazy. "So don't apologize or think what you are telling me is in any way silly, Anastasia. I've felt the same way, too."
My first instinct is to laugh it off nervously, only when I peer at his face again, I see how utterly sincere he looks, how earnest. His eyes gleam back at me, nothing but sincerity in them. "Really? So you've missed me that badly too?" For some reason I find it so difficult to believe.
"I have." My stomach grumbles rudely out of nowhere, and then we're both laughing- my stomachs noise ending up being the perfect needed cue for lightening the subject between us. He sits up slightly on the couch and because I'm basically straddling him and he's still holding me, naturally I do too. "Now, sorry to divert from what we were just talking about, but I believe that is a hint for me to call for room service so that I can get you fed."
"Yeah, I think that would be safe," I murmur teasingly. "My stomach clearly needs its food right now."
He leans forward off the couch and, to my delight, he doesn't make me get off him. Not even when he has to stand upright to grab the menu. I hear his knees crack as he shifts us back down onto the couch while I'm still draped around him, an arm still tightly around his neck. His hand resumes its pattern of before, in stroking up and down my back through my shirt gently while he uses his other free hand to open the menu, which he reads the choices out to me.
We end up settling on oysters as entree. Salmon and vegetables for dinner. And then to complete it all, for dessert is strawberry cheesecake.
Even as he makes the call to order the room service, he still lets me remain where I am, perched in his lap while he speaks on the phone, something that leaves me deliriously happy; It's as if Christian cannot separate himself from me himself, that he wants to make up on lost time of so long away not getting the chance to so much as hold or touch each other.
"Of course, all on the tab to Room 612 is perfectly fine," he finishes, his eyes on nothing else but me as I continue my ministrations from before, unable to resist rubbing him down with my hands. "Excellent... Thank you." At that, he hangs up the phone and chucks it carelessly on the couch near us somewhere. "They say it could take roughly up to forty minutes until it gets up here," he breathes, filling me in.
"OK," I murmur back, reaching up with both hands this time. I comb my fingers through his hair, through the thick strands like he often does. His hair definitely feels a lot shorter than it was before, obviously due to the haircut. "Have to say that I'm looking forward to being cooked for for once. Sorry to say it, but your daughter really can't cook to save her life. She can't cook for shi-" I stop myself abruptly from finishing that sentence, slamming my eyes closed in self-chastisement. God, why do I keep bringing her up for? Stupid! "Sorry, I know you don't want me bringing her up all the time. It's just become a force of habit-"
"-Ana." His firm voice demands my attention and I reopen my eyes reluctantly. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
Even although he's brushing it off casually, it still doesn't seem good enough. "No, really. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Another thought instantly comes to me as I massage his scalp, sort of scratching it gently with my fingers. "Do you ever wish-" But then I stop again, uncertain.
"Do I ever wish- what, Ana?"
"Well, do you, um, ever... wish that I was anyone but your daughter's best friend? Do you ever find yourself wishing things were different and that I was, I guess... someone you met randomly on the street one night? Someone older, your age?"
Christian's silent for a moment, squinting at me, deep in thought. Then he shrugs. "I've entertained the thought briefly, of course. Let's face it; it would certainly make things a hell of a lot simpler."
Hmm, I guess that's true. "It would be simpler, wouldn't it?"
"But then I realize, it is what it is. There's really no use wishing for anything different. And honestly, at the start..." He's the one to hesitate this time.
"At the start?" I prompt gently.
"At the start, I beat myself up over it constantly, over... my feelings towards you. Only I decided I can't shut them off. There's no point fighting it anymore." And he's right, and I'm pleased he isn't fighting this anymore.
But now that we've brought it up in conversation, my mind starts drifting as I daydream of an alternate reality. A simpler one, where Christian and I cross paths- me being much graceful, much older. And anything but Kate's best friend, someone his daughter's age.
Kate wouldn't hate me so much then, in the end. She probably wouldn't be as angry or betrayed as she is bound to inevitably feel when- or if - she ever does come to find out what's going on between her father and I. If only...
FIRSTLY, I AM SO VERY SORRY FOR TAKING SUCH A LONG TIME TO WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER. TIME HAS GONE SO QUICKLY. IT'S REALLY EMBARRASSING BUT I HAD AN ACCIDENT AT WORK AND SEVERED MY FINGER, I WAS RUSHED INTO HOSPITAL AND THEY HAD TO STITCH IT UP. I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO PROPERLY MOVE MY FINGER FOR OVER A FEW MONTHS SO THAT IS THE MAIN REASON FOR THE HIATUS AWAY FROM THE STORY.
I AM REALLY SORRY ABOUT THAT BUT NOW THAT MY FINGER IS BETTER AND I CAN TYPE, THE CHAPTERS WILL COME OFTEN AGAIN. I HOPE YOU ARE STILL INTERESTED IN THE STORY? I TRULY AM SORRY AND WOULD LOVE TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, HOPING ITS OKAY?
I ALSO TRIED TO MAKE THE LENGTH LONGER AS AN APOLOGY SO HOPE YOU LOVELY READERS AREN'T TOO ANGRY WITH ME.