BLACK

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Black Chapter 10

BLACK Chapter 10

It’s finally nine a.m. and I’m standing in front of my chemistry lab, the hard tables before me each have a single microscope with three different scopes covering the top lenses. I take a seat across the blackboard, waiting.

It’s only two minute past nine, I’m sure the professor will be here any minute; it is out first day after all. I take out my cellphone after I hear it chime in my bag. Kates’ name pops up on the screen just before I open the message. “so when were you going to tell me you went to Mc Dreamy’s house?”

I smile at her attempt of embarrassing me through the virtual world although I do not remember discussing my whereabouts with her when we were watching reruns of old t.v. shows. She fails as her poor effort of comparing one of the greatest fictional surgeon on Grey’s Anatomy to the angered professor I have.

Chemistry lab goes rather quickly, I’m quite admired with my chemist professor as she explains everything in detail to all of us. There’s a total of twenty-three students present but she still manages to come across each and every one of us. At the end of the class we are instructed to bring our own utensils from now on forth; which I have no idea where to purchase them from. This town is large on it’s own, where on earth am I going to find a science department store?

I thank her kindly for today’s lesson on mitosis before exiting the laboratory hall. I make my way across the Student Union just in time for the Criminal Law period. Oh what joy..

When I enter the lecture hall it’s silent as always, I take the seat in the second row next to some kid I’ve never seen here before. When I take the seat two places to the left of him, he smiles warmly in my direction. I can see the tan skin of his arms as he folds the dress shirt away from his wrists. His shiny white teeth glow between his lips before he speaks. “Hi,” I can already tell he’s not from here. His accent is thick and rich but his English is perfect.

“Hey.” I say back, opening my notes. “Your new?” I ask

He nods, rolling his eyes. “Changed my major now I’m here.” He lets out a small chuckle.

More students fill the seats around me but H is not here yet. It’s past eleven o’clock and he’s late.

I recall last nights events in my head, from being in his apartment to the moment the phone rang before I fell asleep. Everything has gone so fast I can barely keep my feet steady, and now my mother is being transported to the hospital two towns over me. Why couldn’t they just treat her in New York? Why must she be a burden to me in my new environment. I love my mother but the memories of us are long gone. I just want to start my life and this doesn’t include the buried chapter with my family.

When he finally enters the room, he looks stressed. The circles around his eyes are even more prominent than I’ve every seen them to be. He’s not wearing his usual suit. Instead he wears loose sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. He makes eye contact with me but I shift away. I hide my face in my books waiting for him to look away first. “Excuse my appearance today.” The rasp in his voice is harsh as he mentions his lack of formal attire, it sounds like he hasn’t gotten much sleep.

He takes attendance quickly; shuffling through his papers. When he calls my name I raise my hand but don’t acknowledge him back. “I see we have a new student here.”

The new kid next to me looks up from his cellphone. I watch as he taps a button to the top of the device and the screen goes blank, he locks and places it in his pocket. “Zach Malik?” H asks observing the yellow sheet between his hands.

I hear the new person scoff from besides me, his brown eyes twist in hatred. His fingertips drum along the desk in annoyance and he responds coldly. “It’s Zayn.”

Green eyes look over the room until he comes in contact with the person sitting besides me. He looks towards me briefly then back to him. “My apologies, it’s written as Zach in my roster.”

“I bet it is.” His attitude is more affective towards him. I can see the annoyed appearance taking place on H’s face; he’s fighting the urge to say something back to a student who holds the same attitude as him. I watch as he bites his tongue and swallows the words before speaking them out loud.

I try to fight a laugh, but my lips betray me as a small squeal escapes. I feel green eyes staring at me waiting for mine to meet his but I don’t let them. “Something amusing Miss Arch-Wood?” He’s never used my last name before, this is a first. He’s taunting me, I can tell.

I shake my head, not letting his attempt of embarrassing me get to my head. I apologize and look down. “What a tool.” Zayn whispers from besides me, I turn to look at him and he’s already staring in my direction.

“He’s alright.” I defend him, besides from the minor anger issues he might have, he is decent company when he’s not taking total dominance over me.

“Doubt it,” He rolls his eyes, “-heard some pretty messed up shìt about him.”

“Like what?” I ask in a whisper, masking out the instructions being given on the board.

“Something about his infamous parents last year.” Zayn shrugs, twisting the cap of his pen open; he begins to write while my paper is still blank.

I don’t ask him any further information. He might be lying for all I know. I don’t even know Zayn and he’s already accusing our professor. He keeps a pretty hidden life so I don’t understand where the new kid might have gotten this piece of information.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket disturbing me, I’m quick to turn the annoying thing off but a new message is popping up on the little screen. I’m afraid to open it, knowing it might be one of those creepy people trying to mess with my head again. When I click on the message icon my fathers name is highlighted with a brief message. A part of me is relieved but disappointed at the same time. I was expecting a text telling me to ′watch my back’, it’s been almost two days since I’ve heard from them. Whatever them is.

I open the message underneath the desk, my father has provided me with instructions on how to arrive at the hospital in detail. A smiley face is bouncing up and down at the end of the text with an ′I’ll see you soon’. I roll my eyes at the thought of him forcing me to do something I am willing to be no apart of.

I look up from my phone to the board but instead I see his green eyes from two rows away, he’s seated at his desk with a pen in hand. His eyes stare at me coldly as they go down to the my hands. I realize he’s only looking in my direction because I have my cellphone out. He stands to his feet, fixing his hair and walks up the staircase in my direction. When he teaches the second row, his sneakers stop at the foot of my desk. Zayn snickers from besides me but continues to write along with everyone else who seems to be in full consternation.

H stands before me, the barrier of my desk providing the distance and comfort I need. He places his arms in front of his crotch and looks down to my hands. “I do not tolerate cellphone usage in my hall Miss Arch-Wood.” He whispers in a hushed tone.

I try to apologize and bring my cellphone back into my pockets but he stops me. One of his hands leans in and takes my wrist between his long fingers. While the other peals the device from in between my palm. He looks strangely towards my phone and back to me, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. “Get back to your assignment Amelia. I don’t accept blank sheets of paper.”

I roll my eyes as he steps off the staircase and back into his seat at the front of the desk. He hold my cellphone between his thumb and forefinger, his eyebrows form a hard line on his forehead. I don’t understand what he’s so confused about, its a piece of metal which I communicate with. I watch as he opens the drawer underneath his desk and flips it inside. He takes his position as he once was before standing.

Elbows placed flat either side of the desk with his hands folded. I quickly avert my eyes away from his burning gaze. I follow the boards instruction and write the paragraph he wants on the previous case we discussed in class. I don’t remember much of it since I was used as an object of interest. Still, I conclude my paragraph with the thoughts of a psychopath as we spoke about in his study room. This should be enough to catch his attention. A few students rise to their feet, bringing the assigned work to the front of the room.

When Zayn rises as well I follow besides him down the staircase, he looks down towards my paper and smirks. His fingers try to grab at the edge until it’s successfully between his hands. “Psychopaths huh?” He asks in a humored tone as his brown eyes scan my words.

My expression stays neutral as I slide it away from him, regaining access to my work. When we reach the front of the room, Zayn is first to place his paper across the surface; he gives our professor a wicked grin and walks back up the staircase. “Friend of yours?” H asks, taping his fingernails on the wooden material beneath his palms.

“Not really.” I shrug,

“You seem to have a lot of those ′Not really′ friends.” He responds with the same attitude.

I shake my head and walk away from his presence, he can be very intolerable at times. Especially when he’s fighting the fact of being sarcastic, not one of his best qualities.

When we all take our seats back, the hall goes still as we watch him open one of the tall cabinets behind the board. When he returns he holds some type of trophy in his hands, It’s a small golden embedded structure with a spherical round shape held with a pair of hands. He stands in the middle of the room, legs spread out beneath him as he holds the trophy close to his chest. “Every year around the same time like today, I choose six students from my criminal intend course to accompany me in my court rooms.” He speaks, twirling the golden trophy between his palms.

“Where we discuss present serial killer cases, live evidence and actual human flesh.” He places the trophy on the first desk in front of him. I recognize the student with glasses, It’s Reid.

Reid smiles up at H with glee in his eyes, he thanks him multiple times for being the first of the six. H rolls his eyes and tell him to calm down or he will replace him. I watch as he looks around the room, moving to the next. His eyes avert to mine, but I don’t look away this time-I keep the same hard gaze as him. He smirks and picks the girl besides me.

He takes the trophy from Reids’ desk and throws it across the room until it lands in her hands. “You,” He points in her direction, the girl sitting directly next to me flushes with heat-the red tint glowing in cheek bones is evident now-as she struggles to get a grip on the metal object between her hands. “-what’s your name?“He asks.

“Lia.″ She whispers like a child.

“My number two.” He raises his finger gesturing for the trophy back, she passes it to him in a week throw but his large hands catch it just before it hits the floorboards.

He does this catching and passing game for the next ten minutes recruiting his students one by one. I still don’t understand why I wasn’t chosen? I roll my eyes at the fact he didn’t even bother to pick me first. He’s taunting me; he;s doing it on purpose and he knows it darn well. If he’s mad at me for what I said to him before I left last night-he should just speak his mind instead of having that annoying wicked smirk spread across his face, it hasn’t been erased since he started and it’s starting to really piss me off. He dances the trophy between his fingers, like a toy as he catches a glimpse of everyone sitting ahead of where he stands.

Next to me, Zayn is on his cellphone-right in the open and he doesn’t bother taking it away from him. I scowl at this. He’s just letting him be, I watch as H watches him move his thumbs across the screen in a strange pattern. When Zayn looks up from his cellphone he stares out at our professor in relish, shoving the device back into his dress shirt.

“Five.” H says in a rough tone. He doesn’t throw the trophy to him like he did with the other four students. Instead he paces up the staircase until he’s eye level with us. He shoves the trophy towards Zayn’s direction, it hits the middle of his chest sharply and falls onto the desk. The loud bang echoes throughout the wooden walls but he doesn’t even blink from the impact.

Zayn holds the gold trophy in one hand while the other rests on his wounded chest. “Angry much?” His voice is relaxed not at all surprised with the actions before hand. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes but he doesn’t meander on the moment instead he winks towards him.

H breaths out, blinking slowly. There’s definitely some tension between the both of them. I don’t see how though? H didn’t even recognize his name when he was calling it out earlier neither did he give the impression that they both might have encountered each other in the past so why does he hate him so much now.

“Move the cup over to your left.” He scolds his way and waits for the instructions to be followed.

Zayn scoffs loudly, shaking his head. He makes sure to be heard by all, especially our obnoxious professor but moves the trophy to me anyway.

“Six.” H nods his chin to me and continues down the staircase to his seat. When he reaches his desk, he places six different black folders at the end of his surface. He instructs us to take one as we leave the room. “The rest of you will be doing your regular course work as I provide for you. And my remaining six will be with me almost everyday after school; accompanying me in my apartment for further instructions.”

My eyes widen as he says the words. His apartment? Is he serious now. He notices my facial expression and smirks darkly. “Problem?” He asks, amused.

I watch as the back of body strikes with the desk behind him, along with his hands as they grip at the edge of the wooden surface. He sets them aside from his hips and watches me as I watch him, dulling out the other people in the room; he has no care in the world whatsoever. I break eye contact averting my gaze away from his stronger hold. Every time we make eye contact is as if everything around us disappears from beneath me. I’m lifted to this other form of life where all I see is green. I shake my head at the thoughts I have when am around him, there not pure.

Inappropriate wouldn’t even describe this. If anyone ever found out, I don’t even know what on earth would happen. I’d be ashamed to even being my face to this building ever again. Too much hatred would be brought upon me; I’m guessing nothing would be consulted on his end. He would be fired in the blink of an eye and I’m sure of it. I turn off my theories and try to concentrate on the unpleasant figure leading in front of me.

Class is dismissed early, expect for the remaining six of us. I stand next to Zayn as he takes my right-he’s back to his cellphone again. His thumbs move faster than I’ve ever seen anyone type a single message before, he’s quick to replace the irritated scowl on his face with a smile when he seems me looking at him. He winks towards me and I look away.

He hovers us in a circle; where he stands in the middle and hands us the black folders that were placed separately around his desk. Reid and Lia are assigned the Silvermans’ case, which really annoys me because I’ve told him how badly I wanted to be the one who receives it. He ignores my dark stare as he hands them another piece of information. “Now I know I assigned in my email a thesis paper for this class, instead of that you six will have the same course work as the majority of the class. But.” He pauses, lifting his finger in an argumentative gesture. “I don’t want a written paper from you. I want a live performance.” He looks at each and every one of us before speaking again.

“You play out how the crime was taken place-in detail of course, and I expect nothing less from you. In those folders that I have provided are scripts, and links to videos of reports I’d very much like you to watch.”

Zayn begins to speak but I cut him off, “Why do we need to go to your apartment?” I ask.

H looks at me, combing his fingers through the side of his hair before tilting his head in amusement. “For guidance of course Miss Arch-Wood, why else would I invite you?” He chuckles sounding surprised with the question.

Lia snickers from across the circle and I glare towards her. She gets the hint and looks away, H warns me for my behavior and asks the rest of the five to leave after he’s done telling everyone to meet him by campus today at three.

“I’d like my phone back now.” I say once they have exited the hall. He turns around to face me after he collects his papers and places them in his shoulder bag, he swings the strap across his arm and folds his hands into his pockets.

“What phone?” He asks confused. “Oh!, right-right!” His laugh echoes through the walls and back into my ears. “- you mean the device you where using during my lecture?”

I sigh and nod. “Yes. May I please have it back?” I try to be polite but it’s not working when that stupid smirk is still on his face.

He removes his hand from his pocket and hands me back my cellphone in one piece and walks towards the door, without saying a word. “I don’t want to go to your house.” I say, he stops walking and turns around.

His face stiffens, walking back the distance to the space in front of me. “And why is that Miss Arch-Wood? Afraid I’ll touch you again.” He mocks and I’m quite surprised with the way he’s responding today. This isn’t like him.

I don’t even respond, instead I walk past him; our shoulders touch briefly as I leave out the door. I’m not going to deal with his negative attitude at the moment, my mind is flutter with other things that need my direct attention rather with someone who’s ego is as big as his hair.

I reach my dorm room shortly after, I have no idea what am going to wear for my mothers today. Adding to that uncomfortable encounter, I have to meet H and my new groupies at three right before taking the bus to the hospital.

I change my attire from the black sweatshirt of this morning to a plain white v-neck and a brown cardigan, keeping my black jeans on I fix the small hairs falling to the side of my forehead, keeping them in place with a combed brush and exit my room. I hear Kate and James in the kitchen as I collect my leather purse from the coach, I notice Kate gesturing me over to where she stands. When I reach her I see James from the corner of my eye as I enter the kitchen floors. When he doesn’t acknowledge my presence I take the hint not to either.

“Where you off too missy?” She humors me by saying. “Mc Dreamy’s maybe?” Her plucked eyebrows raise in flirtation.

I scowl at her with the same gratified expression. She rolls her blue eyes and passes me a freshly baked cookie. “Who’s Mc Dreamy?” James asks, taking a mouthful of chocolate chips.

Kate smiles that wicked smile of hers before speaking, “Why don’t you ask my Mia?” She mimics my fathers words and I can’t help but laugh at her attempt of faking a Russian accent.

James looks at me from across the counter, one eyebrow raised. “He’s my Law professor.” I take another cookie from the plate and fold it into a napkin for later.

“Your fûcking your instructor?” His words are toxic to my brain, Kates’ laughs emerges through the room and into my ears. “No!” I’m quick to respond to his assumptions. I would never do such a thing, what on earth is wrong with him? Does he really think of me in such a negative way.

I say goodbye to them and head towards the door after our little encounter in the kitchen. I make it across campus with the shuttle bus and stop at the place H says to meet him at three.

I’m early when I arrive fifteen minutes to our set time, I’m surprised when I notice Zayn leaning against the concrete wall, the back of his foot resting behind him. There’s something between his fingers, it’s white with a tan tip-I can’t mask what it is from my distance but I notice it’s a cigarette when I finally approach him. He smiles at me and releases the smoke from his lungs and into my face.

“Hey.” He throws the white bud on the floor, putting it out with the front of hit foot. “-you’re early.” He says.

“I could say the same for you.” I smile back at him.

There’s a moment of silence between us but it isn’t uncomfortable, just odd. “Want to grab a cup of coffee while we wait?” He points towards the small shop across the street of campus.

I nod in agreement and walk first, he steps besides me opening the glass door for me. I thank him as we approach the clerk at the front desk. “Medium coffee, three sugars please.” I hear him kindly tell the man, when he’s done ordering he waits for me to finish reading the menu on top of my head.

I hear him chuckle from besides me but I don’t question his amused laughter, “I’ll have a hot chocolate.” I bring my wallet from my bag but Zayn stops me.

“It’s on me,” His arm pushes my hand from moving to unzip my wallet. “I can pay for myself.” I assure him.

“So can I.” His teeth show from the side of his smile and I don’t resist to fight him as he hands the man behind the counter a blue card.

I thank Zayn for the drink as we exit the shop and cross the road to the place where we were instructed to be. Everyone is already there when we arrive to them. His green eyes watch me as I walk besides the new kid. His eyes avert to the space between us, I’m not sure where he’s looking towards but I soon understand why his face twists in hatred when I feel Zayn’s palm slide down my back. I step aside from his touch and his hand falls to his side.

“You’re late,” his words are rushed, his tone of voice is not all amused with the situation. The green in his eyes are light as he rakes over my face, I take a sip of my drink and return the gesture.

“Oops, my bad. I was thirsty.” I lift my cup up to the side of my face, his patience has gone above maximum level as I taunt him in his own playground.

He ignores me and Zayn for the remaining of the time being, but I still listens when he tells everyone there’s a car coming for us. Shortly after, I notice his driver pull up in a large black SUV, H takes the passenger seat after his driver steps out of the vehicle to greet us.

“Afternoon Miss Arch-Wood.” I recognize the voice as the back door is opened for the remaining six of us.

I smile kindly up at him, I can’t but notice the way his bald head shines against the street light above us all. I’ve never noticed this feature he compels before. He must have shaved off his hair, I shrug it off but return his greet.

“You know him?” Zayn whispers to me as we enter the car.

I don’t respond to him instead I ask about his leather jacket to distract him from the question; he says something about how it was made in some foreign county which I don’t pay much attention too. My eyes move along the sidewalk as the car drives away from campus and onto the main expressway.

The majority of the car ride is quiet expect for the small conversation that can be heard from Reid and Lia behind me and the classical music in the background, it’s pretty much awkward tension. I catch his green gaze from the side mirror; he’s been staring at me the whole time I was watching the street.

He hasn’t averted his eyes from my face since we’ve been in the car. His lips form a small smirk to the side of his face; I’m not sure if I should return the facial contact but I do anyway. I smile back at him, which makes him raise one of his eyebrows. The thin hairs come together in a entertaining form and I chuckle at his weird form of communication. I’ve never had a conversation through the eyes.

Zayn whispers something from next to me, which causes me to move my face from the window and to the voice besides me. I’m about to respond to his request but the car halts in place, I look up and were here.

When we finally reach his apartment building, H presses the elevator and waits for it to stop by. He slides the pair of keys from his right pocket and opens the door to his apartment room. Everyone around me absorbs the amazing decor he has, Zayn doesn’t look at all surprised as if he’s been here before. He shrugs his jacket off and throws it on the leather coach besides the piano.

Reid is the first to speak. “Your house is amazing Sir,”

“I know.” H rolls his green eyes, and walks towards the kitchen doors; he sure is moody today.

Lia sits on the piano ladder and opens her black folder along with her partner, two other students which I have not learned the names of take a place on the coach doing the same. When I catch Zayn figure; he’s against the wall next to the painting of the woman sitting on the bench, he’s on his phone again-the screen is bright against his skin and he looks concentrated while his thumbs dance along the bottom of the screen. He looks up when he notices someone looking his direction, he smirks that playful smirk and goes back to his cellphone.

I swing off my bag from my shoulder and move across the floor to the kitchen doors, when I reach them I remember to step on the silver tile which opens the doors automatically. I enter to see him pouring some type of green juice into a tall glass, he looks up, noticing my presence but doesn’t say anything.

This is awkward, he was just smiling at me moments ago from the mirror of the car, and now he wont even acknowledge me as we stand in the same room. He;s so mysterious, I’ve only just noticed the way he holds himself together, forget about not sharing information on himself-he’s a very quiet person when left alone. He will only speak when spoken too.

I watch as he drinks his sticky green juice, his phone is now placed between his left palm-he types on it slowly with the pad of his thumb. I recognize the symbol on the back of the device, it’s similar to Zayns’ I think. The small apple placed just below the camera is something I’ve seen before but I’m not quite sure of the logos name.

The black device beeps in his hands and he’s quick to retrieve the message. I clear my throat but he still doesn’t pay attention to me. I roll my eyes towards him; the fact he won’t look up to see me minimizes the fun knowing it will not irritate him. I move closer to him but he still doesn’t blink, his eyes focus on the words in the screen. “Privacy is supposed to be tolerated Miss Amelia.” He says, still looking towards that annoying piece of metal he calls a phone. He removes the now stained glass from his hand and places it gently on the counter top. I watch him lean in on the surface, both elbows taking on the weight of his upper body.

“Well I know my way around this house, and your secret tiles.” I give him the same tone he speaks to me with. He finally looks at me with an amused grin, which is slowly turned into a smirk. Without saying a word he turns on his heal and disappears into the doors leaving me in the kitchen.

I roll my eyes following along, I’m back into the living room but he isn’t here. Everyone seems to be working on they’re part of the assignment. Lia stands near the long window acting out her scene while Reid instructs her. When I turn to Zayn he has a silver laptop on his lap; he’s constructing some kind of paragraph in his folder. When I reach him, he quickly taps at the mouse pad changing windows on the screen. I don’t question his sudden movements as he look up at me and frowns. “why did we have to get Lift Fort? It’s fûcking bloody.”

I shrug towards his silly down break and take the seat next to him. “What have you found so far?”

He raises his eyebrows in shock. “What haven’t I found? This guy made cūlts all over the world. He’s famous for being a serial kîller.”

I take the paper from him, rereading over his notes. “What do you mean by cūlts?”

“How are we suppose to act out cūlt members?” He sighs in frustration.

“Why don’t you start by searching where he’s from first? If he has any family?” I say and give him back the folder.

Zayn shakes his head, but quickly agrees with me and types on the keyboard. “Thanks, Ace.”

I turn back to him. ”Ace?”

He doesn’t look from the screen but still responds. “Yeah. Amelia doesn’t really suit you. Ace is more on the edge.” He gives me a small smile but returns to reading the words on the large screen before him.

I stand to my feet informing him I’m going to use the restroom. When I reach the hall of paintings, I turn the light switch on and the small hanging lights come to life one after another. I remember the staircase at the end of the hall is the one that leads to the rest of the house. I walk up the white steps and stop at the doors where we once stood before.

The four doors I remember are exactly as they are. But I don’t see a bathroom I can use. I go to open the first one but it’s locked. The crystal knob doesn’t turn when I push on it, I go to the next. This time I’m successful when the door slowly creaks open. It’s dark but not for long until I find the light switch which brings the room to life. There isn’t much in here as I imagined there would be. Comparing it to the study room this is just plain. The only thing here is unfinished murals and half-worked paintings. There’s four shelves to the left of me which hold multiple high definition cameras. I close the door behind and quickly leave everything as it is. I don’t want to seem like I’ve been lurking around, even though I’m really in need of finding a bathroom.

I haven’t gone passed this corridor of his house before. The only hallways I’ve seen are the first and second floors. I find myself at the third story of his apartment and it’s different than the last two. Here, the walls are grey with no paintings and no photography. There’s only one light switch and it’s turned on. The high chandelier sways back and forth calmly but I don’t risk standing directly underneath it. There’s a small window to the end of the hallway along with two white doors like downstairs. The first one is locked, of course-but the other is slightly creaked half way. Maybe he’s in there? The light was on when I first entered this part of the hallway. I know how superstitious he can be about keeping everything the way it is, so he must be on this level if the light was previously open when I got here.

I push the door open just enough to see what’s in side, he always seems to have something fascinating to look at in every room but this is just as ordinary as every individuals bedroom. He doesn’t notice when the door opens, he’s laid across his bed with that cellphone a few inches away from his face. His arms are above his head holding the device for him to type on.

I don’t want to disturb him but I’m really desperate to find the bathroom, he’s the only who knows where it is so I enter anyway.

His bedroom is as big as my entire dorm room, black curtains cover the floor to ceiling windows, there’s a single different designed chandelier but it’s not gold like the rest he has scattered across his house, this one is silver and isn’t as bright as the others. The tilted floor underneath me is a light gray which doesn’t resemble the four walls but still looks like it was brought out of a designer magazine, I notice he has no carpet, the only furnished objects is his large bed with a quilted headboard and the dark glass dresser along with a few closets scattered away from the windows.

My shoes click against the gray tilted floor and he jerks his head up from the screen. “Only you would be lurking.” He says in a relaxed tone, there’s a rasp in his voice from not being inaudible for a while as he finally speaks clearing his throat.

“I just really need to find the restroom.” I say.

He stares at me for a while before answering. “You mean the one in the living room or the one in my room?” He smirks from his large bed across the room, the lights are dimmed but I still notice the way his lips curl up.

“You have one in your room?” I ask from the doorway.

Of course he would, look at this place-there isn’t anything he doesn’t have.

He’s still plastered across the silk fabric of the sheets, he hasn’t moved an inch from place-not even me disturbing him could break his comfortability. He nods his head towards the dresser to his left, besides it is a small door.

“Thanks.” I say, he only hums in response, returning to whatever it is he was doing.

When I enter the bathroom, I lock the door behind me and get to my business. The bathroom resembles the kitchen in structure. The high cabinets above my head are exactly alike the black ones that hold the silver wear and the sink is made from stainless steal the the one downstairs. There’s a standing shower to my left with glass doors shielding it.

When I’m done using the restroom I wash my hands and exit closing the door behind me. He’s not on his bed, he’s twelve feet away across the bed and standing in front of his closet. His shirt is on the ground besides his now bare feet he still has his pants on but I can’t look away from his back muscles. The tan skin covering his body is perfectly clear, there isn’t one single flaw. The indent in his spine starts from the nape of his neck and slowly goes down the middle of his back until it stops at the beginning of his behind. His shoulders are wide moving to pull out a new shirt from the shelf above his head. His arms extend until he reaches the one he wants.

Hs’ Thoughts:

I retrieve a single black shirt from my closet. Reaching the top shelf, I clasp the material around my palm and fist it downwards towards me. It falls loosely as I extend my hands inside, stretching the neck hole over my head. I’m near to fold the shirt over my body but I feel two small hands roaming at the middle of my back; I don’t turn around to stop her-I’m caught by the way her nails sharply trace my skin. Her finger tips brush at the side of my hips and up to my arms. She stops her wandering hands the moment I sigh loudly, she gasps in shock as a chid who has been caught. This girl is a ticking time-bomb, I swear on it. She’s going to be the end of time with me. The brown in her eyes has captivated my green in such a horrid way that I’m afraid of every time our eyes cross paths. She has this weird light that lifts my spirt, I wait for the moment I get to see her each day just to see that brown. That brown that has caused me to have vivid thoughts of things I want in her presence.

She doesn’t even crave the same form of touch I want, how does she even go through her life? Touch is everything, it’s a form of showing compassion without tearing each others clothes. It’s a way to connect with another’s soul-without forcing your way in it. But here she is, she found her way to my bedroom with the poor excuse of needing to use the restroom; I didn’t even hear the toilet flush. And now I find her trying to create attachment with her fingers, trying to read my skin with the tips of her nails as If I’m some sort of canvas she can easily run her paintbrush across. It’s not going to be that easy, she needs to understand that.

Her voice is shy as she apologies for creating the heat in our skin contact. “I didn’t mean to touch you, I’m so sorry!” She cries out. I turn around to face her now. Her cheeks are flushed with a tone of chrisom pink. Her eyes, embarrassed as they stare down to the ground. I reassure her the situation is alright but she shakes her head violently, pacing around the room.

“I shouldn’t have done that, what’s wrong with me?” She says asking herself, inhaling through her nostrils sharply. I roll my eyes at her dramatic episode. She can be quite annoying at times, when she’s declaring her frantic panic attacks.

“Amelia.” I grab her arm pulling her into my chest, she flinches from my touch but soon calms down.

Her small hand comes to center of my bare arm, I’m still half not dressed when she touches the muscles underneath my skin. I watch as her eyes take over the small ink hidden under neath the inside of my arm; just before my armpit. “You have a tattoo?” She asks, those curious brown eyes glare my way.

I nod down at her, “Only two.” Her fingernails scarp against the three hammered nails inked into my flesh. “Where’s the other?” She asks, softly when she’s done observing.

I pull her away from my chest and direct her attention to my hip bone, I point to the place where my pants suit meets my skin. She gazes her hand down my belly button and to the side of my hip. Her painted red nails glide across the brailed print. I watch as her brows lift in an unexpected manor as she raises her face to look up at me. The delicacy of those eyes makes me go weak, she’s so simple and elegant in every form of way possible that it’s hard to even understand or try concentration around her, she makes me feel what I don’t want too and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She’s this masked creature who’s slowly finding her way into my thoughts and I have no idea what the hell I’m suppose to do about it.

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