*
Nikita got up.
As she walked, she felt as though she was advancing in an astral dimension. It was as if her soul and mind had unwittingly separated from her body.
Her legs proceeded of their own volition.
" Ni-ki-ta ! "
His voice. Calling her. She stopped.
Michael was running toward her, but he slowed down as he neared her.
"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly.
"Go to hell!"
He was too late for anything and as much as she would have wanted to appear calm and collected, she was unable to approach him with anything but hatred. His ridiculous excuses no longer interested her.
As Nikita passed him, Michael quickly grabbed both of her arms, effectively stopping her movement.
" Wait ! "
" Let me go! Get your hands off me immediately! We are over ! " she mumbled through clenched teeth as she tried to break free from his hold, but her efforts only seemed to encourage him to hold her closer, tightly pressed against his chest, and he succeeded although she fought him with all her rage.
"We need to talk, Nikita. I can't leave you unless you agree to listen."
She hated the delicious shiver stirred up by the hushed way he spoke into her ear. She could feel it right down to her bones and it sickened her.
"Oh, please! Why should I brother? Go talk with Simone! I'm sure she'd love to speak with you-"
"I already talked with Simone!" he cut her off. Through the tension of his stance, she could sense his frustration catching up with hers as it radiated off him. His grip on her arms tightened as he distanced her body from his.
Reluctantly, clear blue eyes met dark green and couldn't help but hold on.
"Oh, well! So, what? I finally get a summary of the much awaited reunion? "
She sounded perky. She could feel her anger fueling her every thought, inflaming every nerve ending in her body, permeating her whole being and becoming one with her grief, one with her.
*
"There isn't going to be a reunion."
It wasn't the words themselves which halted the flood of insults burning in her throat, but the flash of... hell, she couldn't tell what, there was something dark and furious in his eyes. They always gave him away, whether he wanted her, was angry with her, or was sorry for some careless thing he had done which had ended up hurting her. But she couldn't tell if it was his displeasure over losing Simone again or her sarcasm which had caused him to snap.
"Just let me go," Nikita repeated sternly. Surprisingly, he acquiesced somewhat by releasing one of her arms, while he used the other to drag her back to their bench. She let him do it. Anything to get way from his heat.
They sat down together and neither the frown marring Nikita's face nor her loud snort of irritation escaped Michael. She could be a pain if she wanted to and he knew that she wouldn't be easy on him, not by a long shot, and he deserved it. Never before had his behavior toward her looked more foolish in his eyes. Had he hoped that by not letting her know how important she was to him, he would be able to keep her by his side longer? Only because Simone had run from his gentleness?
"Will you listen now?"
"Are you giving me any other options?"
"No."
"Then get it over with, so we can both be happy. And while you're at it, try to cut the crap and to get straight to the point. "
She didn't look at him anymore and he didn't like it. The distance between them was extremely frustrating; but even more than that, it was painful. It wasn't easy for him to talk with her. He wasn't one for fancy speeches, but somehow the need to reach her overrode his defective capacity to communicate.
"Simone and I have talked. She thought I wanted to come back to her. As a matter of fact, I did what I could to convince her of that. I believed that... if I heard the words I had once hoped to hear from her, it would take away all the resentment, all the anxiety I felt inside, that I would conquer them. But the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to be with you. I can't even imagine waking up in the morning without you wrapped in my sheets or wandering around my kitchen, nor do I want it to happen."
As she walked, she felt as though she was advancing in an astral dimension. It was as if her soul and mind had unwittingly separated from her body.
Her legs proceeded of their own volition.
" Ni-ki-ta ! "
His voice. Calling her. She stopped.
Michael was running toward her, but he slowed down as he neared her.
"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly.
"Go to hell!"
He was too late for anything and as much as she would have wanted to appear calm and collected, she was unable to approach him with anything but hatred. His ridiculous excuses no longer interested her.
As Nikita passed him, Michael quickly grabbed both of her arms, effectively stopping her movement.
" Wait ! "
" Let me go! Get your hands off me immediately! We are over ! " she mumbled through clenched teeth as she tried to break free from his hold, but her efforts only seemed to encourage him to hold her closer, tightly pressed against his chest, and he succeeded although she fought him with all her rage.
"We need to talk, Nikita. I can't leave you unless you agree to listen."
She hated the delicious shiver stirred up by the hushed way he spoke into her ear. She could feel it right down to her bones and it sickened her.
"Oh, please! Why should I brother? Go talk with Simone! I'm sure she'd love to speak with you-"
"I already talked with Simone!" he cut her off. Through the tension of his stance, she could sense his frustration catching up with hers as it radiated off him. His grip on her arms tightened as he distanced her body from his.
Reluctantly, clear blue eyes met dark green and couldn't help but hold on.
"Oh, well! So, what? I finally get a summary of the much awaited reunion? "
She sounded perky. She could feel her anger fueling her every thought, inflaming every nerve ending in her body, permeating her whole being and becoming one with her grief, one with her.
*
"There isn't going to be a reunion."
It wasn't the words themselves which halted the flood of insults burning in her throat, but the flash of... hell, she couldn't tell what, there was something dark and furious in his eyes. They always gave him away, whether he wanted her, was angry with her, or was sorry for some careless thing he had done which had ended up hurting her. But she couldn't tell if it was his displeasure over losing Simone again or her sarcasm which had caused him to snap.
"Just let me go," Nikita repeated sternly. Surprisingly, he acquiesced somewhat by releasing one of her arms, while he used the other to drag her back to their bench. She let him do it. Anything to get way from his heat.
They sat down together and neither the frown marring Nikita's face nor her loud snort of irritation escaped Michael. She could be a pain if she wanted to and he knew that she wouldn't be easy on him, not by a long shot, and he deserved it. Never before had his behavior toward her looked more foolish in his eyes. Had he hoped that by not letting her know how important she was to him, he would be able to keep her by his side longer? Only because Simone had run from his gentleness?
"Will you listen now?"
"Are you giving me any other options?"
"No."
"Then get it over with, so we can both be happy. And while you're at it, try to cut the crap and to get straight to the point. "
She didn't look at him anymore and he didn't like it. The distance between them was extremely frustrating; but even more than that, it was painful. It wasn't easy for him to talk with her. He wasn't one for fancy speeches, but somehow the need to reach her overrode his defective capacity to communicate.
"Simone and I have talked. She thought I wanted to come back to her. As a matter of fact, I did what I could to convince her of that. I believed that... if I heard the words I had once hoped to hear from her, it would take away all the resentment, all the anxiety I felt inside, that I would conquer them. But the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to be with you. I can't even imagine waking up in the morning without you wrapped in my sheets or wandering around my kitchen, nor do I want it to happen."