GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER?
CHAPTER XVIII
“Well done,
baby,” I murmur. “Did that hurt?”
“No,” she can
barely breathe a response, neither can she keep her eyes open.
“Did you expect
it to?” I whisper to her while holding her close me as my fingers push some
escaped tendrils of hair off her face.
“Yes,” she
answers tired.
“You see, most
of your fear is in your head, Anastasia,” I say. But what I want to know is if
she would want to do it again. “Would you do it again?” I ask hesitantly. She
pauses for a minute, tired.
“Yes,” she
answers in a soft voice, and that is my undoing. I really, truly like, like, like this
woman with a strange, unnamed, elemental emotion! I hug her tightly.
“Good. So would
I,” I murmur, then lean down and softly kiss the top of her head.
“And I haven’t
finished with you yet,” I say, because I have been waiting for her to be in
this room for days, no weeks now. Her eyes are closing as I’m wrapped around
her. She turns her face into my chest, and inhales deeply, but that movement
tenses me up. She opens her eyes and looks up at me. I stare down a warning
glare.
“Don’t,” I breathe to her which she flushes and looks back at me longing melting my dark heart. (←Bad Romance by Lady Gaga)
“Kneel by the
door,” I order her. Somehow my voice is chilled because of this frigging fucked
up self in me. My hard limit is breached, and I try to gain my composure. She
clumsily gets up into a standing position and scoots over to the door and kneels
as instructed, shaky and tired. I move around her, but she’s so tired, her
eyelids heavy, her head is drooping into sleep.
“Boring you, am
I, Miss Steele?” I ask making her jump awake. I am standing in front of her
with crossed arms glaring down at her. When her beautiful blue eyes gaze up at
me, my gaze softens. There’s always something about her that tugs at my heart
strings.
“Stand up,” I
order her and she warily climbs to her feet.
I stare at her
and my mouth quirking up into a smile.
“You’re
shattered, aren’t you?” I ask. She nods shyly, flushing.
“Stamina, Miss Steele,” I say to her. (←Stamina Imma tell
by Tech N9ne)
This is why I want her to work out. I
narrow my eyes at her.
“I haven’t had
my fill of you yet. Hold out your hands in front as if you’re praying.” She blinks
at me trying to see if she heard me right.
“Praying?” she
asks confused as if this is the most bizarre place to pray. But she finally
does as she’s told. I take a cable tie
and fasten it around her wrists, tightening the plastic. Her eyes fly to mine
with recognition.
“Look familiar?”
I ask, unable to conceal my smile. She gapes up at me as adrenaline spikes
though her body anew. Okay – that’s got her attention – she’s completely awake
now.
“I have scissors here,” I say holding them up
for her to see.
“I can cut you
out of this in a moment,” I say reassuringly.
She tries to
pull her wrists apart, testing her bonds, But as she tries to pull it
apart, the plastic bites into her flesh. As long as she doesn’t force to try
her wrists apart, she’ll be fine; otherwise it’ll cut into her skin.
“Come,” I say
taking her bound hands and lead her over to the four-poster bed. She
notices that it has dark red sheets on it and a shackle at each corner, gazes
up at me in curious wonderment.
“I want more –
much, much more,” I lean down and whisper in her ear. And her heartbeat starts
pounding speedily again. She’s excited.
“But I’ll make
this quick. You’re tired. Hold on to the post,” I say. She frowns, realizing
she won’t be on the bed. She parts her hands as she grasps the ornately carved
wooden post.
“Lower,” I
order. “Good. Don’t let go. If you do, I’ll spank you. Understand?” I warn her.
“Yes, Sir,” she
says like the good girl she is.
“Good.”
I stand behind
her and grasp her hips, and then quickly lift her backward so she’s bending
forward, holding the post.
“Don’t let go,
Anastasia,” I warn her.
“I’m going to
fuck you hard from behind. Hold the post to support your weight. Understand?”
“Yes,” she says,
and I smack across her behind with my hand.
“Ow…” she says,
then amends her affirmation by muttering, “Yes, Sir,” quickly.
“Part your legs,”
I order, and put my legs between hers, and holding her hips, I push her right
leg to the side.
“That’s better.
After this, I’ll let you sleep,” I say to her. I reach up and gently stroke her
back.
“You have such
beautiful skin, Anastasia,” I breathe as I bend down and kiss her along her
spine, gentle feather-light kisses. At the same time, my hands move round to
her front, palming her breasts, and as I do this I trap her nipples between my
fingers and tug them gently. She stifles her moan as her whole body responds,
coming alive once more for me. I gently bite and suck her at her waist, tugging
her nipples, and her hands tighten on the carved bed post. My hands drop away,
and take a packet of condom, and tear at the foil, and kick off my jeans.
“You have such a
captivating, sexy ass, Anastasia Steele. What I’d like to do to it,” I say
desirously. My hands smooth and shape each of her buttocks, then my fingers
glide down, and I slip two fingers inside her.
“So wet. You
never disappoint, Miss Steele,” I whisper, and there is wonder in my voice.
“Hold tight… this
is going to be quick, baby,” I say grabbing her hips positioning myself, and I
stand behind her and grasps her hips, and then quickly lift her backward so
she’s bending forward, holding the post.
I reach over her
and grab her braid near the end and wind it round my wrist to her nape holding
her head in place. Very slowly I ease into her, pulling her hair at the same
time… I fill her up to the brim. I ease out of her slowly, and my other hand
grabs her hip, holding tight, and then I slam into her, jolting her forward.
“Hold on,
Anastasia!” I shout through clenched teeth. She grips harder round the post and
push back against me as I continue my merciless assault on her over and over again, my
fingers digging into her hip. I feel that she’s getting weaker with the new
buildup of yet another orgasm. I
continue to move roughly against her, inside her, my breathing harsh, moaning,
groaning. I hear her breathing getting harsher, and her moan peaks with the
inevitability of another shattering peak, as I reach my own, and I still, slamming
really deep. “Come on, Ana, give it to me,” I groan which my encouragement
sends her over the edge as she reaches hers. As we’re both spent I lay on the
floor, Anastasia on top of me, her back to my front.
As I nuzzle her ear, “Hold up your hands,” I
say softly. She holds her arms up, and with one pass of the scissors, I cut the
plastic ceremoniously and, “I declare this Ana open,” I breathe. She giggles
with my declaration and rubs her wrists as they’re freed. Her giggle makes me grin; it’s the most beautiful sound on earth, because it means she’s happy, and makes me long to hear her giggling, carefree, and joyful. (←I’m on Top of the World by the Carpenters)
“That is such a
lovely sound,” I say morosely. I feel guilty and grieved all of a sudden that
she’s not as carefree as she could be. I sit up suddenly, taking her with me so
that she’s once more sitting in my lap.
“That’s my fault,”
I say and shift her so that I can rub her shoulders and arms that had been sore
with our joy ride. I gently massage her. She turns back to me trying to
decipher the meaning behind my last lamentation.
“That you don’t
giggle more often,” I say in a forlorn voice.
“I’m not a great
giggler,” she mumbles sleepily.
“Oh, but when it
happens, Miss Steele, ‘tis a wonder and joy to behold,” I say my eyes are
bright.
“Very flowery,
Mr. Grey,” she mutters, barely trying to stay awake as her eyes are drooping.
“I’d say you’re
thoroughly fucked and in need of sleep,” I say with a wicked gleam in my eyes.
“That wasn’t
flowery at all,” she grumbles playfully. I grin at her as I lift her off of me,
standing naked. I pick my jeans up,
slide them back on, commando.
“Don’t want to
frighten Taylor, or Mrs. Jones for that matter,” I mutter playfully. I stoop
down to help her to her feet and lead her to the door. Back of the door is the gray waffle robe I
hung earlier. I happily dress her like a parent dresses a small child. She’s
completely spent; her limbs don’t have enough strength left to lift up. When
she’s all covered up and respectable, I lean down and kiss her gently, and
knowing that she’s been mine thoroughly, and mine alone, makes me beyond
joyful, and pleases me immensely which is reflected in my smile.
“Bed,” I say.
And the look of astonishment on her face makes me grin…Another priceless
expression. “For sleep,” I add reassuringly. I scoop her up and carry her
curled against my chest to her bedroom where she was examined by Dr. Greene earlier
today. Her head drops against my chest in exhaustion. Pulling back
the duvet, I lay her down and, climb in beside her and hold close which is something I
wanted to do since yesterday.
“Sleep now,
gorgeous girl,” I whisper kissing her hair. And as she’s curled into my arms, we
both drift into sleep.
I wake up before
she does as the sun is setting. I gaze at her completely sated and relaxed
state, sleeping in my arms. I could watch her for hours. She looks so peaceful
in her sleep. As I try to move my arm away from her, she stirs uneasily as if
something is bothering her. I rub her hair, and nuzzle, and kiss her on top of
her head instantly calming her. She relaxes. She’s comforted by my presence as
I am comforted by hers. The thought makes me sigh in wonderment. She’s my
perfect match. Finally I release her from my arms, and slowly move, covering
her. Her arm moves looking for me. I slowly walk to the door, and hear her
clear as bell:
“Christian,
don’t go!”
I start saying,
“I’m just...” but I realize that she’s completely asleep. She is talking in her
sleep.
“Please...” she
mutters worried. Stirs in the bed restless. “I love...” and moans as if
something is hurting her. I go back to the bed staying on top of the covers, I
lay next to her. I rub her hair again, relaxing her.
She loves what? Or
rather who? I slowly move my arm away from her torso
once she’s relaxed again slipping into deep sleep. I tiptoe to the door. Then I
hear her voice very clearly...which stops me in my tracks: “I love you Christian! Don’t leave me...” she pleads
in her sleep. My mouth drops wide open; I sit in a chair in the corner and gaze
at her. What do I do with this information? I can’t even begin to process it!
I’m not worthy of her love...of any love. What was it Elena said about love,
“it’s a useless emotion! It erodes control...” I’ll end up breaking her heart... Fuck! (←Break Your Heart by Taio
Cruz)
Confused, elated, joyful, surprised, I slowly leave her room lost in thoughts to
take a shower and get ready for the evening.
After I take my
shower, I get dressed, and make Anastasia a drink with cranberry juice and
Perrier. I bring it up to her room, and put it on her side table. It should
help to give her some energy and her wake up.
I wake Anastasia
up by softly brushing my lips across her temple, kissing her tenderly, but
she’s too tired, and wants to remain asleep. She moans and burrows into her
pillow.
“Anastasia, wake
up.” I say softly, cajoling.
“No,” she moans.
“We have to
leave in half an hour for dinner at my parents’.” I say amused. She opens her
eyes reluctantly. Her eyes flicker to the sky outside. It’s dusk. I lean over,
gazing at her intently.
“Come on
sleepyhead. Get up.” I stoop down and kiss her again.
“I’ve brought
you a drink. I’ll be downstairs. Don’t go back to sleep, or you’ll be in
trouble,” I threaten, but my tone is mild. I kiss her briefly and leave the
bedroom.
I have my iPod
docked on my stereo as Frank Sinatra singing away. I’m in my trademark white
linen shirt and grey flannel pants hanging on my hips. I gaze outside from my
floor to ceiling window watching Seattle’s silhouette in the approaching
night. My woman is in my home, getting ready to go to my parents’ house with
me. It’s an odd, but then oddly comforting feeling. Yet another sign that marks
her as mine. I feel her presence before
I see her. She’s admiring me. I can feel it from the energy that jolts
between us whenever we are in each other’s presence. I turn and smile at her.
She’s all dressed up, minus of course the underwear which are now in the captivity of my pocket.
I want her to beg for it. Let’s see how she’ll respond to my little game.
“Hi,” she says,
matching my smile.
“Hi,” I say back
to her. “How are you feeling?” I ask giddy with amusement.
“Good, thanks.
You?” she asks. I couldn’t be better.
“I feel mighty
fine, Miss Steele,” I respond. Waiting for her to ask for her panties.
“Frank... Hmm. I
never figured you for a Sinatra fan,” she says curiously, surprising me. I
raise an eyebrow in response.
“Eclectic taste,
Miss Steele,” I murmur, and pace toward her, standing in front of her with an
intense gaze. I notice her breath hitches when she sees my stance. As Sinatra starts
crooning Witchcraft,
I trace her face with my fingertips down to her neck. She closes her eyes in
ecstasy. All of a sudden, I want to have
her in my arms, and dance with her like there is no tomorrow!
I take the
remote from my pocket, and turn up the volume. I hold my hand out to Anastasia,
and once again, I long for her even though she’s right here with me. I am full
of want to take her to my arms again. We’re bewitched with each other as I can
see my feeling is reflected and reciprocated in her eyes. She puts her hand into
my extended one. As soon as her hand touches mine, our usual connecting jolt
begins to run through. With a renewed sense of desire, I pull her into my
embrace, curling my free arm around her waist, and we start dancing.
She extends and
puts her free hand on my shoulder, and grin up to me. We’re just couple of
young people, playful, enjoying the moment. We spin from the window to the kitchen
covering the large space, whirling and twirling, and turning in time to the
music. She follows my lead as we glide around the dining table, over to the
piano, and backwards and forward in front of the glass wall, as Seattle is
gleaming in its glittering lights. It’s the witching hour, with this bewitching
woman, in this bewitching scenery with a darkening Seattle silhouette in the
background, my woman in my arms, dancing to a bewitching song, sang by a
bewitchingly velvety voice... She laughs in absolute joy, captivated by
everything as I am; I can’t help myself but grin down at her murmuring, “There
is no nicer witch than you,” and kiss her sweetly.
"Well, that’s
brought some color to your cheeks Miss Steele. Thank you for the dance. Shall
we go and meet my parents?”
“You’re welcome,
and yes, I can’t wait to meet them,” she answers breathlessly.
“Do you have
everything you need?” I ask her with meaning. I still have her panties in my
pocket, and looking forward to her begging for them.
“Oh, yes,” she
responds sweetly batting her eyelashes.
“Are you sure?”
I probe.
She nods
nonchalantly under my intense gaze. I’m completely amused by her nonchalance. You want to go over to my parents' house in a naked ass? Anastasia Steele, you are something else! I
can’t keep up with it anymore and my face splits into a huge grin, and I shake
my head.
“Okay. If that’s
the way you want to play it Miss Steele,” I say grabbing her hand, I collect my
jacket that’s hanging on one of the bar stools, and lead her to the foyer to
the elevator get down to the garage.
When we’re in
the elevator, he gaze drifts up to my face. I know she has nothing under her
beautiful dress, and I would like to see how far she’ll manage with that. I
think the idea is hot. She’s going to my parents’ house with nothing under her
dress. Knowing how shy she is, I bet she’s regretting that decision now. My
mind is reeling with the kinds of games I can put her through tonight. Oh,
baby, you brought this on and I aim to play! Let’s see how far you can play... The elevator
descends down speedily and smoothly. But the usual charge between us builds up
again, and my mind goes back to Heathman Hotel’s elevator. Someday, I’m going
to fuck her in this elevator, but not right now. I feel my eyes darken with
desire for her as our eyes lock. But, the elevator door dings open, and the
magic is still hanging in the air. I close my eyes, and try to shake the clouds
away from my head. I gesture her to exit before me from the elevators in a
gentlemanly manner, but there is nothing gentlemanly in my thoughts about her.
And she knows it!
Taylor drives up
the Audi SUV. I open the rear door for Anastasia, and she tries to climb inside
as lady like as possible trying not to show her naked ass. The purple dress is
clingy, and hangs on top of her knees. Otherwise, I would have been too
jealous.
We speed up to
I-5 freeway, both of us quiet for a while. My mind is like a tornado. I look
out from my window to the darkening city sitting next to the woman who
captivated me in the last few weeks. Now I’m taking her to meet my
family...officially, as my girlfriend. What is happening to me? I like her
immensely. I can’t sort my feelings out for her. In one hand, I like my
independence. I like my dominance. Who am I lying to? I love my dominance; I
don’t think I can give it up! I love my lifestyle... But then here she is
threatening everything I’ve come to know and love with her fragile, girly self,
effortlessly. If I’m not around her, I’m miserable! I make everyone else
miserable. I find myself thinking of her every waking moment, and in my sleep.
I have these unnamed emotions that are driving me crazy! I get jealous even
someone mentions her name as if it’s something sacred that they shouldn’t talk
about without having a month’s ablutions. What is she doing to me? I’m lost in
myself, and drowning in my thoughts. I long for her though she’s sitting next
to me.
“Where did you
learn to dance?” she asks in a soft voice hesitantly. That brings me out of my
reveries, but not out of my drowning misery. I turn my gaze at her, sadness
covering my eyes.
“Do you really
want to know?” I reply softly.
I can’t see her
well in the dark, but the passing light shines a glimpse at her falling
face.
“Yes,” she
murmurs reluctantly.
“Mrs. Robinson
was fond of dancing,” I say. She sighs.
“She must have
been a good teacher,” she responds.
“She was,” I say
truthfully, softly.
I try to see her
face in the dark. Some sad emotions flicker through, but then I see a glimpse of
a smile. Her hands rub her wrists reflexively. She must be thinking of our
afternoon liaison. Her gaze falls again, and she fixes her sight outside the
window, and gets lost in a sad thought of her own. I don’t want her to feel sorry for me.
She worries about my past relationship with Elena. She’s my past now. She
inhales a stuttering breath as if she’s barely holding onto her emotions.
“Don’t,” I
murmur.
She turns her
head to me. “Don’t what?” she asks confused.
“Over-think
things, Anastasia,” I say, unable to resist her pull. I reach out, grasp her
hand, and draw them up to my lips, and kiss her knuckles gently. “I had a
wonderful afternoon. Thank you.” I say.
She blinks up to me, and smiles shyly.
“Why did you use
a cable tie?” she ask me whispering making me grin at her.
“It’s quick,
easy, and something different for you to feel and experience. I know they’re
quite brutal, and I do like that in a restraining device,” I say smiling. “Very
effective at keeping you in your place.”
She flushes
nervously as her gaze glances over at Taylor. He’s impassive and his eyes are
on the road. Taylor had known my lifestyle since the day one. He’s my most
trusted employee, and head of my personal security. It’s all part of the
package that I am. I shrug.
“All part of my
world Anastasia,” I say, squeezing her hand, then let it go, and stare out the
window again. She too turns her head, and stares out the window, lost in
her thoughts again. I turn to look at her. Everything about her pulls and tugs at my
heart strings. She looks like she's closed in, suffocating. She feels my glance on her
and turns her head to look up to me.
“Penny for your
thoughts?” I ask.
She sighs and
frowns.
“That bad, huh?”
“I wish I knew
what you were thinking,” she says surprising me. I smirk at her.
“Ditto, baby,” I
say softly. How I wish to know what you were thinking.
Finally the
scenery changes, and just before eight, the Audi drives into the driveway of my
parents’ colonial style mansion. It’s a picture perfect place.
“Are you ready
for this?” I ask her as we pull up to the door. She nods, and I give her hand
another reassuring squeeze. She’s nervous, meeting a guy’s parents for the
first time, but then again, it’s a first for me too.
“First for me,
too,” I whisper and smile wickedly at her, knowing now that she is probably
regretting not having any underwear. “Bet you wish you were wearing your underwear
right now,” I whisper teasing her. She flushes beet red. Taylor has climbed out
of the door, and opening Anastasia’ door. She scowls at me, and I grin broadly
in return, climbing out of the car.
My mother, Dr.
Grace Trevelyan-Grey is on the doorstep waiting for us. She’s in an elegantly
sophisticated pale blue silk dress. Behind her is my father in his tall, blonde
and handsome demeanor.
“Anastasia, you’ve
met my mother, Grace. This is my dad, Carrick,” I introduce my parents to her.
“Mr. Grey, what
a pleasure to meet you,” she smiles and shakes his proffered hand.
“The pleasure is
all mine, Anastasia,” he responds politely.
“Please, call me
Ana.” His blue eyes soften.
“Ana, how lovely
to see you again,” says mom wrapping her arms around Anastasia. “Come in, my
dear.”
“Is she here?”
we hear a screech from within the house. Of course it’s Mia.
“That would be
Mia, my little sister,” I say irritably, but lovingly. I love her more than she
irritates me. Sure enough, Mia comes barreling down the hall, raven haired,
tall, and curvaceous.
“Anastasia! I’ve
heard so much about you.” She says hugging her hard.
“Ana, please,”
she murmurs as Mia drags her to the vestibule.
“He’s never
brought a girl home before,” says Mia with her dark blue eyes alight with
excitement.
“Mia, calm down,”
my mother admonishes her.
“Hello darling,”
she greets me while kissing me on both cheeks. I smile down at her, and shake
my father’s hand. We all turn and head into the living room, while Mia is still
clutching Anastasia’s hand. When we enter into the elegantly decorated living
room, we find Kate and Elliot are cuddling together on a couch, clutching
champagne flutes. As Mia finally releases Anastasia’ hand, “Hi Ana!” beams Kate
meanwhile giving me a “Christian,” curt acknowledgement.
“Kate,” I return
her sentiment. Anastasia frowns at our exchange. Elliot, the fondler, grasps
Anastasia into an all-embracing hug. I stand by Anastasia’s side wrapping my
arms around her possessively placing my hand on her hip; I spread my fingers
and pull her to me. Everyone is staring at her, at us. Anastasia feels uneasy.
“Drinks?” my father
asks finally recovering himself after seeing the confirmation that his son is
NOT gay. “Prosecco?”
“Please,”
Anastasia and I speak in unison. This is strange. Mia claps her hands in our synchronized
response.
“You’re even
saying the same things. I’ll get them,” she says, speedily leaving the room.
Anastasia flushes. When she glances back at Kate and Elliot again, her gaze
changes. It saddens; she gets a bleak and depressed look. What just happened?
Why is she upset?
“Dinner’s almost
ready,” my mother says as she follows Mia out of the room. I gaze at her, and
frown at her expression. What is wrong? Why is she upset?
“Sit,” I command
pointing to a plush couch. She does as she’s told, carefully crossing her legs.
I sit beside her, but I don’t touch her.
“We were just
talking about vacations, Ana,” says my father kindly.
“Elliot decided
to follow Kate and her family to Barbados for a week.” When we look up to Kate,
she’s grinning in absolute delight.
“Are you taking
a break now you’ve finished your degree?” my father asks.
“I’m thinking of
going to Georgia for a few days,” she replies. I’m completely shocked; stare at
Anastasia gaping at her. This is news to me. Why hasn’t she ever mentioned that
to me? How can I handle her absence? Is she running away from me? I now think
of her writing to me in her e-mail, if she had half the mind she’d run to Alaska. Is this her
version of running away?
“Georgia?” I
murmur questioning.
“My mother lives
there, and I haven’t seen her for a while,” she replies.
“When were you
thinking of going?” I ask in a low, barely controlled voice. My anxiety level
has shot up many times over my tolerable limit.
“Tomorrow, late
evening,” she responds as I’m trying to process that information. Right now, I
want to take her, spank her, and fuck her like there’s no tomorrow! I’m barely
containing myself in my seat with the company around. My gaze is fixed on her.
My sister Mia
saunters back into the living room, and hands each of us champagne flutes
filled with pale pink Prosecco.
“Your good
health!” my father raises his glass. I couldn’t care less. Shit! She’s leaving!
She’s running! Shit! Double shit! I can barely control my breathing. How can I
stay without her?
“For how long?”
I ask in a deceptively soft voice. It’s anything but. I’m beyond angry.
“I don’t know
yet. It will depend how my interviews go tomorrow.”
My jaw clenches,
and Kate the ball-crusher gets that interfering look on her face. Shit! I could
care less for her right now!
“Ana deserves a
break,” she says pointedly at me; antagonism seeping through her.
“You have
interviews?” my father inquires.
“Yes sir, for
internships at two publishers tomorrow,” replies Anastasia.
“I wish you best
of luck.”
“Dinner is on
the table,” my mother announces.
We all stand.
Kate and Elliot follow my dad and Mia out of the room. As Anastasia gets ready
to follow, I clutch her elbow, bringing her to an abrupt stop.
“When were you
going to tell me you were leaving?” I ask her urgently. My tone is soft
covering my barely contained anger, ready to erupt.
“I’m not
leaving. I’m going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it,” she
responds.
“What about our
arrangement?” I ask her fervently. I thought we made a deal.
“We don’t have
an arrangement yet,” she responds.
My eyes narrow,
I’m ready to punish her, but, this isn’t the place for it, and she hasn’t
signed yet. Damn! I take her elbow, and lead her out of the room.
“This
conversation is NOT
over yet,” I whisper threateningly as we enter the dining room.
What else will
this night bring? I’m upset, uptight, irritated, confined, and right now, I
like to spank the crap out of her, and fuck her for good measure. Shit!
Breath, Grey,
breathe! I remind myself as I pull Anastasia’s chair next to mine as my eyes
fixed on her, watching her like a hawk. I can’t let her slip through my
fingers, and she’s running from me. She wasn’t even going to tell me. Shit! I
can’t breathe! I close my eyes, and count...very slowly... One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten...
Still no
relief... Fuck! I swallow. Ten again...
Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one...
Easy breathing.
I notice Mia taking a seat next to me, and grabbing my hand, squeezing it
tightly, taking me out of my reveries. I smile at her warmly.
Temporary relief
floods me... until I gaze back at the Miss Independent again. (←I’m Afraid of Losing You by A Rocket to the Moon)
*
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