Deliver Us To Temptation
Chapter 15: Rise
Michael leans against the counter, his left hand wrapped around a mug of cold coffee. He stares into the black abyss, because that's what it is, because it feels as if everything is falling into a hole that he cannot find.
Sydney is in the next room sitting in front of the fire, huddled under a blanket, most likely still trembling. His harsh words must have fallen through the hole with the Sydney he thought he knew.
Hindsight is every person's worst enemy. It's a given. Even with his new life, even though he has purposely been careful so he wouldn't have to worry about things like hindsight. But that theory had been thrown out when she decided to find him.
And that, after fifteen minutes of staring at a coffee cup, is all he has come up with. And it is pretty much all-encompassing. He was rich, he was famous, he was living the life, and then she showed up. She had the audacity to show up and ruin his whole fucking plan.
He turns and dumps the liquid into the sink. Ahh, he realizes, here is that hole everyone's been raving about. Too late.
Setting the empty mug on the small circular table, he starts exiting the kitchen. And stops. Looks back at the table. It feels like yesterday they were sitting at his glass table in Taipei, drinking some dark caffeine-rich liquid, sorting through the mess they had each created. But it wasn't, because yesterday was the day he had opened the door to his grandmother's cabin and found Sydney inside. Because yesterday was the day he had been remembering fucking her. Because yesterday was the day he had uttered every mean, angry, condescending phrase he knew.
Because yesterday ended thirty minutes ago.
-
She looks up instinctively. Michael stands far way from her. Her eyelids flutter down, pretending they'd never moved in the first place. It doesn't matter; it isn't her looking he's looking at.
He speaks as he walks toward the fire, staring into the deep orange and gold.
"When I came here, it was to get away from you. I went to Taipei to escape from you. Come to think about it, most of my life on earth has been spent trying to get away from you."
She's hurt. It's as if he has erased three years from his memory. But she says nothing, does nothing.
"And, to be honest, I wasn't thrilled when you found me at my club, but you probably know that. My actions tend to speak louder than my words."
Her irises peek out from beneath her eyelashes, hoping for some eye contact. 'Ask, and ye shall receive' doesn't seem to apply at the moment. He takes a deep breath; she can see his shoulders rise.
"Quite a bit louder. It's funny—when I found you at the perfume shop it was purely accidental. I was planning to buy a gift for my assistant. I had no idea you would be in Paris, of all places. I thought you'd go back; I thought you couldn't spend a day without your friends or your father. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Of course I walk around with extra cell phones. Who knows when I meet new business partners?"
Now he turns, his eyes finally falling on her face. "I came here to be alone, but it seems you have abolished that thought from my mind. I'll be—I'll be on the beach."
With that, he walks away, taking his coat from the back of the couch as he walks past it. He doesn't look back to see her reaction, instead walks out the door.
-
Sydney stares at the shadowy figure as it leaves the confines of the cottage. She is conflicted. Half of her wants to sit in shock, perhaps weep a bit more. The other half wants to run after him, to take his hands in hers and his lips as hers. She stands, haltingly, unable to move as blood is finally able to flow freely into her legs. And she runs.
-
"Vaughn!"
He's already too far ahead. She runs, muscles already aching; it's been a while since she has run like this.
What is he doing? He won't stop! He's—he's walking into the sea!
"Vaughn!"
He can't hear her. He has to—he must! She wants him to hear every thought that's flying through her head. "Vaughn!"
He stops, for less than a moment. But she notices. Her legs move faster.
"Vaughn, please! Don't do this!" She's reached the surf, she wading in water that's quickly becoming waist-deep. "We aren't star-crossed lovers or any of that shit neither of us believes in! You know how I feel about you. The first time we slept together. Remember? Remember that? God, it was amazing. You were amazing—we were amazing. We are amazing together, Vaughn!"
The water reaches his neck, his chin. Why is he not stopping?
It becomes harder for her to run. She struggles against the tide, arms flailing, trying to reach him in time—
Chapter 15: Rise
Michael leans against the counter, his left hand wrapped around a mug of cold coffee. He stares into the black abyss, because that's what it is, because it feels as if everything is falling into a hole that he cannot find.
Sydney is in the next room sitting in front of the fire, huddled under a blanket, most likely still trembling. His harsh words must have fallen through the hole with the Sydney he thought he knew.
Hindsight is every person's worst enemy. It's a given. Even with his new life, even though he has purposely been careful so he wouldn't have to worry about things like hindsight. But that theory had been thrown out when she decided to find him.
And that, after fifteen minutes of staring at a coffee cup, is all he has come up with. And it is pretty much all-encompassing. He was rich, he was famous, he was living the life, and then she showed up. She had the audacity to show up and ruin his whole fucking plan.
He turns and dumps the liquid into the sink. Ahh, he realizes, here is that hole everyone's been raving about. Too late.
Setting the empty mug on the small circular table, he starts exiting the kitchen. And stops. Looks back at the table. It feels like yesterday they were sitting at his glass table in Taipei, drinking some dark caffeine-rich liquid, sorting through the mess they had each created. But it wasn't, because yesterday was the day he had opened the door to his grandmother's cabin and found Sydney inside. Because yesterday was the day he had been remembering fucking her. Because yesterday was the day he had uttered every mean, angry, condescending phrase he knew.
Because yesterday ended thirty minutes ago.
-
She looks up instinctively. Michael stands far way from her. Her eyelids flutter down, pretending they'd never moved in the first place. It doesn't matter; it isn't her looking he's looking at.
He speaks as he walks toward the fire, staring into the deep orange and gold.
"When I came here, it was to get away from you. I went to Taipei to escape from you. Come to think about it, most of my life on earth has been spent trying to get away from you."
She's hurt. It's as if he has erased three years from his memory. But she says nothing, does nothing.
"And, to be honest, I wasn't thrilled when you found me at my club, but you probably know that. My actions tend to speak louder than my words."
Her irises peek out from beneath her eyelashes, hoping for some eye contact. 'Ask, and ye shall receive' doesn't seem to apply at the moment. He takes a deep breath; she can see his shoulders rise.
"Quite a bit louder. It's funny—when I found you at the perfume shop it was purely accidental. I was planning to buy a gift for my assistant. I had no idea you would be in Paris, of all places. I thought you'd go back; I thought you couldn't spend a day without your friends or your father. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Of course I walk around with extra cell phones. Who knows when I meet new business partners?"
Now he turns, his eyes finally falling on her face. "I came here to be alone, but it seems you have abolished that thought from my mind. I'll be—I'll be on the beach."
With that, he walks away, taking his coat from the back of the couch as he walks past it. He doesn't look back to see her reaction, instead walks out the door.
-
Sydney stares at the shadowy figure as it leaves the confines of the cottage. She is conflicted. Half of her wants to sit in shock, perhaps weep a bit more. The other half wants to run after him, to take his hands in hers and his lips as hers. She stands, haltingly, unable to move as blood is finally able to flow freely into her legs. And she runs.
-
"Vaughn!"
He's already too far ahead. She runs, muscles already aching; it's been a while since she has run like this.
What is he doing? He won't stop! He's—he's walking into the sea!
"Vaughn!"
He can't hear her. He has to—he must! She wants him to hear every thought that's flying through her head. "Vaughn!"
He stops, for less than a moment. But she notices. Her legs move faster.
"Vaughn, please! Don't do this!" She's reached the surf, she wading in water that's quickly becoming waist-deep. "We aren't star-crossed lovers or any of that shit neither of us believes in! You know how I feel about you. The first time we slept together. Remember? Remember that? God, it was amazing. You were amazing—we were amazing. We are amazing together, Vaughn!"
The water reaches his neck, his chin. Why is he not stopping?
It becomes harder for her to run. She struggles against the tide, arms flailing, trying to reach him in time—
