forelsket

(n.) the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

Chapter 8: Forelsket

Swan's gaze shifts toward the girl standing on the doorstep. She possesses an undeniable beauty, standing at a height not much shorter than Swan herself. Could that be Wendy? There's little in her appearance to suggest any resemblance to Killian or Liam, except perhaps the subtle angularity of her face and her fair complexion. Even then, Swan would never jump to the conclusion that she and Killian share any blood ties.

The girl's hair boasts a rich shade of dark blond, her eyes leaning more towards green than blue. Unlike Killian, she exudes a remarkable cheerfulness just through her presence – she actually reminds Swan of Granny.

"You owe me a song, remember," Killian murmurs into Swan's ear, his touch gentle as he releases her. She misses his reassuring grip, the strength of his arm, and the comforting warmth of his body. Being in his embrace made her feel secure and, she reluctantly admits, at home. It's an absurd thought, considering she hardly knows the man. What does she really know about him? Not nearly enough. So why does she feel this way?

"Because you've walked into the middle of something," Killian quips wryly. If possible, the girl's grin broadens even further as she casually gestures toward the door.

"Should I step outside, give you a moment, and then reenter?"

"You have a knack for being bothersome at times," Killian says, shaking his head dismissively.

So, she really is Wendy, Swan muses. Her gaze shifts to Killian, who appears unsure about whether to speak or maintain silence. Should she introduce herself, perhaps? But Wendy already knows who she is—or at least what she knows about herself at the moment.

"Only sometimes? Then I must be doing something wrong," Wendy grins unflinchingly as she slips out of her shoes. With a brisk stride, she enters and embraces her brother tightly. "Happy New Year!"

"Same to you," Killian reciprocates the hug, although his response carries a sense of restraint and reserve. Swan can't help but notice that he isn't particularly open with his niece, almost as if he's holding back. Is he always like this? Is he equally distant with everyone? And why does he seem to keep people at arm's length? Is that why he often comes across as sarcastic and almost rude?

Killian pulls away, a faint but gentle smile gracing his lips. Wendy gazes up at him with an affectionate glimmer in her eye, a silent acknowledgment that she accepts and genuinely loves her uncle just as he is. Witnessing this intimate moment, something tightens in Swan's throat.

"You know, it's lucky you're so private and didn't join the party with me," Wendy remarks, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

Killian remains silent in response, prompting Wendy to turn to Swan.

"And you'd be the girl my dreadfully grumpy uncle plucked from the lake," she remarks, gazing at her with a peculiar and empathetic tenderness. The resemblance to Liam in her eyes softens Swan's initial aversion, prompting a nod and a half-smile in response. "I'm Wendy Jones, and it's a pleasure to meet you," she extends her hand.

"Swan."

"Yeah, I know," Wendy grins, then shoots her uncle a reproachful glance. "Killian, only you could be foolish enough to choose a name like that."

"I like it," Swan replies involuntarily.

Both Wendy and Killian express their doubts with raised eyebrows—or perhaps they're surprised by her unexpected defense of Killian? A blush tinges Swan's cheeks as she realizes that she has indeed rushed to his defense, swiftly and fiercely. Eager to change the subject, she decides it's best to deflect the attention.

"Thank you so much for letting me borrow your clothes and for allowing me to sleep in your room," Swan guesses that Wendy might be a few years younger than her.

"You're welcome," Wendy sighs. "In fact, it's yours for the night."

"No, there's no need for that. I'll be fine on the couch," Swan protests. She doesn't want to inconvenience Wendy in her own home, and the couch will suffice. She did sleep remarkably well there, but perhaps that's because Killian's presence nearby was comforting.

"I've got an early start tomorrow," Wendy declares as she gracefully slips out of her coat. She's undeniably attractive, dressed simply in jeans and a well-fitted purple turtleneck. She exudes a self-assured ease as she moves, a confidence that Swan can't help but admire, feeling it's something she could never quite attain.

"I absolutely despise early mornings," she continues, a grimace forming on her face. "My boss knows it too, which is precisely why he loves assigning me those early jobs, especially if they involve traveling," she adds with a wry smile, tossing her coat onto the back of the sofa. "So I figured I'd crash at Robyn's place tonight. It'll save me a precious half-hour. Actually, I only swung by home to grab some fresh clothes and, well, to see you."

Swan is taken aback by Wendy's candor, though not surprised that she wants to meet her. Assuming that Granny must have filled her in on everything, it's natural for Wendy to be curious about her.

"Speaking of which!" Wendy interjects energetically as she flops into one of the armchairs, crossing her legs and reclining. "My boss mentioned I could snap a few pictures of you if you're up for it. We could feature it in tomorrow's issue, and maybe it'll help unravel the mystery of your identity sooner."

Swan is growing more accustomed to Killian's quieter demeanor, now thoroughly engrossed in Wendy's spirited monologue. "What issue?"

"Ah, apologies, I tend to do that," Wendy drawls. "I chatter away and forget the main point. I'm a photographer, working for the county newspaper."

To be in the newspaper? For everyone to see? To potentially be recognized? That would mean parting ways, being alone, and losing the sense of importance she's garnered. And no, that's not what she desires. She wants to remain with Killian. If only someone considered her half as important as Killian does, despite their brief acquaintance, they would already be here.

"I... I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Swan mumbles, hugging herself as she cautiously shifts her weight from one foot to the other. A cold sensation seems to creep back into her body, and she feels the need to hold herself together as if she might be chilled to the bone. She doesn't want to be alone.

"Swan, you don't have to if you're uncomfortable," Killian reassures her, his touch gentle as he strokes her arm. Perhaps he senses that she craves that contact now.

Swan steals a glance at him, and though she can't decipher the exact emotions in his eyes, his face softens, understanding her hesitations.

"Love," he murmurs softly, his voice a profound, uncharted cavern, and Swan aches to once again nestle close to him, to hold him, to lose herself in that fathomless abyss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Wendy says in a hushed tone, a quiver of concern tinging her voice.

Swan gathers herself, turning away from Killian. Wendy's expression is etched with genuine worry, and already, Swan regrets her stubbornness and timidity. Wendy means well, and she has repaid her with near-collapse. She chides herself for her weakness. She can't afford to behave like this.

"No, it's alright, I'm overreacting," Swan moves toward the sofa, takes a seat, and lifts her gaze to Wendy. "It's not the photo session, really. I think I might actually enjoy it; it could be an intriguing experience," she smiles, attempting to reassure Wendy. "But the idea of being seen and known by everyone terrifies me. Even though it might offer a chance to discover who I am. Would you mind if I slept on it?"

"Not at all," Wendy responds swiftly, her smile returning. "But if you're up for it, we can go ahead with the photos anyway. I'd love to capture your image."

"Really?" Swan exhales.

"Yes, there's something captivating about you, perhaps it's your eyes," Wendy tilts her head, offering a playful wink. "Actually... no..." She shakes her head slightly. "Or is it?"

"How about it, dear niece, if you refrain from talking to yourself?" Killian's voice carries an undercurrent of tension. Swan can't quite grasp the source of his heightened unease, but she notices the severity in his gaze whenever he glances her way. The temperature in the room seems to drop a degree with every scrutinizing look Killian casts in his niece's direction.

"Sorry, my bad," Wendy apologizes, but Swan remains locked in a penetrating stare with Killian. She squints at the girl with a furrowed brow. "It's just... maybe it's my imagination, I'm not great with faces, but it's almost as if... I've seen you before, Swan. In fact, I feel like I've taken photographs of you."

Killian closes his eyes briefly and tilts his chin upward, his lips pressed together. It's as if he's summoning inner resolve or refusing to acknowledge a lurking fear. Swan finally comprehends the reason behind his earlier aloofness; he knew what his niece was about to reveal, and he feared it. He doesn't want her to vanish from his life either, to disappear, and this realization sends little bubbles of emotion swirling through Swan's mind. These bubbles persist until Wendy's words fully register, and then they burst as if they never existed.

"What?" Swan asks in a quavering voice, turning her attention to Wendy.

"I worked as a photographer at a fashion show last fall. You're quite tall and slender, so I might have come across you there," Wendy says, her gaze still probing Swan's face. "Straighten up and give me an icy, expressionless look."

Swan obediently complies with her request, though she struggles to maintain a nonchalant expression, with a telltale twitch at the corner of her mouth. The notion of being a model strikes her as ludicrous; she can't fathom having to repeatedly wear that expression. Wendy must be mistaken, and the thought lightens her spirits.

"Stop smiling," Wendy cautions.

"Sorry, it's just... funny," Swan mumbles, then inhales deeply and envisions Killian uttering some cheeky remark while casting a cool, distant glance.

"Very well done," Wendy remarks with enthusiasm. "I'm pretty sure I've photographed you before; I'll fetch my laptop. I still have those photos on it. Maybe we can identify you," she exclaims, leaping from the armchair and hurrying out of the living room.

Swan gazes at Killian, who watches his niece's departure, his countenance now devoid of tension, instead displaying a sort of resignation.

"Your niece is quite... spirited," Swan comments.

"I'd call her more inquisitive and high-strung," Killian grumbles. Eventually, he turns his attention from the hallway and studies Swan contemplatively. He regards her as if engaged in an internal struggle.

"I'm not a model, Killian."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I don't know," Swan shrugs.

Killian lets out a sigh and settles onto the sofa beside her. He observes her for a few moments, and she can't resist the temptation to slide her hand into his. It's as though Killian needs the touch this time. She can discern the surprise in his eyes, but she doesn't withdraw her hand. Instead, she turns it around and delicately caresses his palm. A quivering warmth ignites within her, and she wishes Wendy hadn't arrived, wishes Killian had kissed her just minutes earlier. She longs to know what it feels like. She longs to know what it's like to fall for him. She yearns for it so intensely that her entire body aches with this indescribable desire.

"Perhaps it would be better for both of us if Wendy finds you," Killian murmurs softly, but he doesn't look at her, his gaze fixed on their entwined hands. Yet, there appears to be a sadness in his eyes, a resigned and weary sorrow.

"I don't believe you mean that," Swan whispers, but her voice carries unwavering conviction.

A faint smile tugs at Killian's lips. "No, but you should."

It irks her that he avoids meeting her gaze. Not that Killian's gaze is easy to decipher, but it's still frustrating that he seems to be evading her like this.

"Killian," she softly calls and only continues when he finally locks eyes with her. "I don't mind if you want me to stay, because that's what I want."

Killian's eyes dance with a fleeting intensity, and Swan unconsciously moistens her lips. A tremor ripples through him, and as he swallows audibly, Swan's mind flits to the yearning desire to press her lips against his, to explore the contours of his skin with her tongue, to savor his taste.

His fingers embark on a sensual journey, tracing a path from her palm to the delicate inside of her wrist. She wouldn't have thought her skin could be so exquisitely sensitive, or perhaps it's the intoxicating presence of Killian himself that electrifies her senses, sending waves of desire coursing through her body. Would any touch elicit the same response, or is it the man behind the touch that makes her quiver so?

"Please, spare me that," Wendy groans in exasperation. "Must you keep this up?"

Swan takes a deep breath, disengaging her hand and clasping her fingers in her lap. She shifts her attention to Wendy, determined to address the interruption.

"What?" She responds with a hint of bewilderment.

"This intense, longing exchange," Wendy grumbles as she settles into the armchair, laptop in hand. "I was only out for two minutes, just two," she continues with disbelief, glancing first at Swan and then at Killian. "It's as if Granny was right."

"Granny?" Killian inquires softly.

"In all honesty, at first, I thought she was joking with me," Wendy confesses. "But seeing the way you two look at each other, I'm starting to believe that Swan could truly break you."

Killian mumbles something under his breath, his words a low, rumbling cadence that eludes Swan's comprehension, even though he sits mere inches away. Then, he shakes his head abruptly and rises to his feet.

"Where are you off to now?" Wendy inquires, a touch taken aback. "Don't you care if we find out about Swan or not?"

Killian strides away from the couch without looking back, his response tossed over his shoulder nonchalantly, "I need a shower."

Wendy can't help but grin mischievously. "You're not going to..."

"Wendy!" Killian's voice thunders, and in the next instant, the bathroom door slams shut behind him.

Undeterred, Wendy continues to giggle, while Swan offers a faint smile, suspecting that Killian might have used the excuse of a shower to distance himself in case Wendy succeeds in finding her. Swan doesn't think the sensual manner in which Killian had gazed at her and caressed her hand is reason enough for him to become unhinged. She believes Killian to be more composed than that, capable of maintaining his sanity, unlike herself, who still simmers with the unbridled heat of summer.

"He's never been like that," Wendy comments, shooting Swan a wink.

"Like what?" Swan inquires, raising an inquisitive brow.

Wendy returns Swan's gaze, looking slightly taken aback and apologetic.

"I'm sorry. I have this habit of speaking without thinking, a terrible tendency," Wendy admits, her voice trailing off as she reflects. "But it just spills out, and then I can't help but apologize. Granny says I haven't quite matured my frontal lobe, but I doubt I ever will. So, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, if you were bothered by me teasing my uncle for your sake..."

"No," Swan responds with a smile. "It didn't bother me."

"Really?" Wendy asks, somewhat surprised.

"Really," Swan's smile broadens. "Actually, I think it's rather nice that he's so openly fond of me."

"Well, it's quite evident in your case too, you know," Wendy remarks sweetly, seemingly pleased that her uncle has welcomed someone into his life.

"I'm not ashamed to admit it... your uncle is a very attractive man."

"Okay," Wendy playfully raises her hand, "for me, the words 'uncle' and 'attractive' don't usually go together."

Swan chuckles.

"You know," Wendy continues more earnestly, "it's heartwarming to see my uncle, who's usually reserved, sullen, and emotionally distant, looking at you with such natural warmth. He's... always distant with everyone, often with us as well, but with you..." Wendy shakes her head, struggling to find the right words as if the depth of her feelings is challenging to express. "And all it took for me to see that was just a few minutes with you, in a very strange but wonderful way, before you misinterpret me." Wendy smiles genuinely and happily. "I'd be thrilled if you two ended up together."

"Why? You don't even know me. Maybe I'm actually a harpy," Swan suggests, a wry smile gracing their lips.

Wendy's countenance softens as she reciprocates the smile.

"If Killian loved you and you loved him, it wouldn't matter what you were like. I would love you because you love my uncle, and because he loves you."

"We've only known each other for a day, so it's a bit early to be thinking about it," Swan murmurs, unable to comprehend why the mere notion of love feels so overwhelming. It's only now that she realizes that every time the topic arises, an instinctive protest arises within her. As if she cannot love, or will not love – or perhaps as if she doesn't believe she can be loved. Or maybe it's because no one has truly seen her.

"Well, I don't know, the way you two look at each other..." Wendy interjects with a suggestive tone, then turns her attention to the laptop. "Anyway, let's check the photos."

She gazes thoughtfully at the laptop screen, causing Swan's stomach to twist with anxiety. If Wendy is incorrect about the modeling gig, she might figure something out within minutes. But no, Swan can't fathom herself strutting in front of a crowd, parading up and down a runway. Perhaps it could be a defense against the idea that Wendy might have recognized her.

"No, no, no..." Wendy mutters slowly as she scrolls through more and more pictures. Swan breathes a little easier with each "no."

"You're not among them, I don't understand," Wendy exclaims in amazement, peering up from the laptop after several minutes. "Damn it!" She purses her lips in frustration. "Don't be angry, I was so sure."

"It's okay, really," Swan reassures her, her voice laced with a gentle, calming tone that clearly indicates her lack of anger.

Wendy narrows her eyes at Swan and then furrows her brow.

"You're not upset I didn't find you," she states, sounding surprised.

Swan sees no reason to deny it; her face likely mirrors the relief she feels.

"Returning to a life I don't know without memories is scarier than building something new without memories, even if it doesn't last forever."

Wendy regards her seriously for a few moments and then breaks into a grin.

"I think I like you," she declares. "However, I wasted a lot of time. Would you mind if we don't take the pictures now?"

"No, it's not urgent for me."

"Great, then if your memories don't come back, I'll come over tomorrow night, and we'll take the photos. You can decide if you want to be in the paper," Wendy says as she closes the laptop and springs up from her chair. "I really have to dash. I'll gather some things and go. If my uncle comes by, tell him I said goodbye."

"Alright."

"And Swan, it's a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Mutual."

"Oh, and do me a favor, don't spill the beans to Killian about what I said of him. I have a hunch he'd be cross with me," Wendy remarks, disappearing into her room.

After just a few minutes, Wendy bids a real farewell, leaving Swan alone in the living room. Swan curls one leg up, wrapping her arms around it, and gazes toward the bathroom door. Killian is inside, undressed. She swallows hard as she recalls the sight of his chiseled chest and envisions water droplets cascading over it. What would it feel like to run her fingers along those taut muscles and chest hair? How would it feel to kiss those glistening droplets from his skin? As these vivid fantasies swirl within her, a fiery warmth courses through her body, and a yearning ache pulses between her legs.

She startles as the bathroom door swings open, her cheeks flushing crimson upon seeing Killian.

"I'm curious to know what's going through your mind right now," he comments, a furrow forming on his brow.

"I did mention I have quite an imagination," Swan responds nonchalantly, her voice laced with flirtation. She relishes the fleeting glimmer of desire that dances in Killian's eyes, reminiscent of their earlier playful exchanges.

"Wendy?" Killian surveys the room, his demeanor tense and serious.

"She's gone."

"So, you couldn't find you?" Killian approaches tentatively, as if afraid any sudden movement might make Swan disappear.

"No."

Killian's stance eases. He moves nearer with a leisurely, deliberate gait, settling into one of the armchairs. The way he regards her makes Swan feel like unsuspecting prey chosen by a cunning hunter. She doesn't mind; this sensation is thrilling and electrifying.

"You're secretly glad she didn't find me, admit it," she asserts, her eyebrows arching gracefully, mimicking the way he often does when casting that maddeningly defiant gaze upon her. She wants to emulate this effect successfully.

"You owe me one more song," Killian grumbles, evading a direct response.

"That's not the only reason you're pleased. You enjoy my company."

Swan wants Killian to say it, to acknowledge it. Perhaps if he does, he'll stop trying to convince himself or her otherwise.

"Yes, I do."