About The Past
There’s something going on with Declan, but I cannot put my finger on it. I’m kind of like a deer in the headlights right now. He’s out by the tree, leaning against it, hitting it with his fist, and growling. He sounds almost like a wild animal when he makes that noise. I must be messed in the head, because for some strange reason it turns me on.
He looks like he wants to be alone right now, but I decide to open my door and make my way to him. There is something inside of me that doesn’t want to be away from him. Especially right now, when he seems to need me most.
“Stay back.” He says to me in a deadly low voice.
“What is going on?” I, being a woman, of course don’t listen to him at all. I continue to walk towards him, until I’m almost right behind him.
I reach my arm out to touch his shoulder, but faster than I can blink his arm reaches out and stops it in its tracks. I can see his shoulders moving faster and faster with each breath he takes. He’s not hurting my arm, but he isn’t letting me go.
“Declan, you’re scaring me a bit here. What is going on?” I say very slowly, trying not to set him off. Something tells me one wrong thing that I say can do that.
“It’s nothing.” He pushes my hand away from him.
“I just need a minute.” I step back at his words, and look around the field. It’s definitely a lot of land here, I can only imagine what someone needs with this much land.
Finally, after what feels like hours, he turns around. I stand back and study him. He has sweat above his brow, his breathing has settled some, and some how he wound up with a spot of blood on his lip. Before, I fully know what I’m doing, I’m stepping towards him and reaching my hand out to touch his face.
He stays leaning by the tree, his body taught with tension, but he makes no move to stop me. Once I’m a hairs breath away from his face, I look to his eyes, hold out my hand to show him my intentions, and slowly bring my hand to his lip. When my thumb touches the spot on his lip, he stops breathing all together, as my breathing picks up.
Why is it every time I touch this man my body comes alive? It’s as though I’m electrocuted, making my heart race, my palms sweat, and wetness pooling between my legs. If I didn’t know any better I would almost think he can smell my want for him.
My eyes lift up and I study him, with my thumb still pressing against his lip. His eyes are dilated, his nostrils flare with the deep breaths he is taking, and through no fault of his own, almost as though he needs me closer, his hands shoot out. Placing each on either side of me, he drags my body closer to his. So close there isn’t a place where our bodies don’t touch.
I can feel his want for me growing against my lower region. My eyes close of their own accord, while a little moan works its way up my throat and out of my mouth. I can feel the heat radiate off of him, making me even hotter. I swear his heat makes my head dizzy and my body sway.
“What are you doing?” He whispers in my ear. His breath hitting my neck. Without control of my own body, I turn my head to the opposite side, giving him full permission to take advantage with what ever he would like to me with that area.
Something tells me, deep in my soul it’s the right thing to do. In some way I feel as though I was made for this man, and him for me. I don’t know why. I cannot explain it. Within my heart I know I’m right. Know there’s something here between us. Only wish I knew what it was.
“Scarlett,” at the use of my name my eyes pop open. I see he’s looking at me with a mix of determination and need.
“Yes?” I whisper.
“You never answered my question.” He gives a small smile, mischief making its way into his eyes.
OH right, he asked me a question. What was it again? A spudder of laughter comes from him, making his entire upper body shake. I shoot daggers at him with my eyes, “are you laughing at me now?” I make a move to step away from him, but he is having none of it.
He pulls my body up close and tight against him once more. He releases one side and moves my hair off my shoulder, behind my ear. “Just a little sweetheart.” When he calls me that it makes my heart flutter. I really need to remember who this guy is. He’s probably called so many girls the same thing trying to make their walls come down.
That thought is like a bucket of ice cold water on my scorching hot body. Shaking my head, I tap his chest with my hand, drawing his attention there. I move back to make a little space between us. With the space comes clarity and I suddenly remember what he asked.
“I was wiping away the small amount of blood along your lower lip.” I move my hand into his vision, showing him my thumb. “See, I’m not sure how it happened but I figured I’d clean it off for you.” He looks to my thumb, then back to my face. He smiles at me, that breathtaking smile of his. The one that makes him seem more human, instead of the asshole he pretends to be.
“Thank you.” I can hear the sincerity in his voice.
“You’re welcome.” I give him a smile in return.
We stay like that for the next few minutes, before we realize why we left school a little early. We need to talk, to get to know one another better. To become friends. He must have the same thought at the same time I do, if him pushing me a ways away from him tells me anything.
“So, you going to tell me what you were about to say back in the library earlier?” The moment is gone and in it’s place there is seriousness written all over his face. He puts his hands into his pockets, crosses his ankles and gives me a stern look.
Something tells me I’m not going to get out of this. He wants to know about my past, what brought me here, and there is nothing I can say to get out of it. I clearly swallow down the sadness that hits me with this conversation, and look him dead in the eye.
“My mother and I were in a severe car accident in the beginning of summer. I survived, she didn’t.” I look at him dead on. Trying to be strong, but I can feel the tears building in my eyes.
Before he can say what everyone else says to me, feeling pity towards me I continue. “I wasn’t even able to go to the funeral. I was in a coma for two weeks before finally waking up. The doctors weren’t even sure I was going to be able to. When I did, they told Grandma Bee it was a miracle. They never seen anything like it.”
I cannot look at him anymore, I turn facing the opposite direction and look up to the sky. It’s not nighttime, the moon and stars seem to always calm me down in a way, but it’ll have to do.
“Grandma Bee was crying hysterically. She kept apologizing to me. I was so confused. Then she said the words no young girl ever wants to hear.” He places his hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him. Before I make it completely to him, I close my eyes not being able to look him in the eye. I can handle anyone else’s pity, but not his.
“What did she say?” He asks, although I’m sure he knows the answer to that question.
“That my mother hadn’t made it, and I had missed her funeral.” My eyes pop open, tears leaking from within, falling down my cheeks.
“I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye.” I cry.
He pulls me to his chest and holds me while I do something I have not yet done. I bawl my eyes out. Cry so hard my body is shaking, and giant sobs leave my throat. “I was so mad at her. We had a fight that night, and I said horrible things. They were the last thing she heard from me, her own daughter.” I sob into his chest.
He’s quiet for a moment. Only holding me, letting me cry. Giving me the time, I need, the time I should have taken months ago. When it’s all over, the tears have stopped I move my head back, away from his now wet shirt, and look up at him. To my surprise I see no pity, no feelings or sorry for me. Only understanding, which makes me wonder about the life he has lived.