Beneath his gaze

Tempting him

Isabella

The air feels quiet after he left, like everything is frozen. Too afraid to breathe or move. My heartbeat is the only thing that isn’t. It thrums loudly in my ears kicking the chaos loose in my chest.

Yet, my body remains still on the bed, in the same position I was while he was here but somehow different.

Charged.

My mind replays everything in detail, things I wish I could forget. His musky cologne that smelled of cedarwood and spice, the feel of his fingers grazing my skin, the way his breath smelled of mint when he leaned in close enough for me to feel the warmth of it on my lips even through the mask.

I bring two fingers to my lips. He could have taken the mask off. He could have kissed me. My brow furrows.

So why didn’t he?

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours. Still, I’m no closer to figuring out what it is he wants. He claims I’m his, yet doesn’t act on it?

He’s always in control and it’s getting to me. Slowly the lines blur as I try to piece together everything I know of our interactions. He’s never gotten this close before.

Not like that.

He’s getting sloppy, losing control… Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he just wants me to believe he is so I’m afraid?

My frustration boils over as I try to rationalize with myself. I shouldn’t care that he didn’t kiss me or that he left so easily. Every time I feel like I’m close, my brain freezes, like a crash after staying up for days on end . I shouldn’t try to understand the motives behind what he does. Because in the end it’s all the same. He’s committing a crime.

So why do I?

As I sit on the bed, my fingers clench into fists. My jaw tightens.

No.

I won’t let him do this to me, I won’t let him control my life anymore than he already has.

Fine.

If I’m his he needs to prove it. Show me he’s not playing. I know he’s killed a man but that’s different.

He did that to save me.

What would he do if he sees me with someone else? Will he finally snap? Will he finally feel the unease that I’ve been feeling the last few weeks, since finding out he’s real?

Matt. His face pops into my head, almost like a beacon. The way he always lights up with that goofy grin when I walk into the bar or how the dimples in his cheeks make him look younger than he really is.

His blue eyes that always glint with mischief, like he’s the only one who knows the punchline to a really bad joke.

I feel guilty as I think of him. He’s a nice guy and most definitely doesn’t deserve this but I’m almost desperate.

Okay I am desperate.

I move slowly at first, gripping my phone almost like a lifeline as I pull up a message.

Matt.

His contact shines white against the black text. His big smile and kind blue eyes stare back at me from behind the shagginess of his blonde curls. My finger hovers slightly for a moment. Guilt gnawing at my insides. Before I can back out, I press call before the doubt can seep in.

I walk over to the window, positioning myself side on as I smile brightly, despite the pit in my stomach.

“Hey Matt, about that date?”

“You finally decided to let me take you out?” His voice rings through the phone. Cheerful, energetic, unsuspecting.

“Yeah” I laugh sheepishly, “I figured I’d finally take you up on it”

“You sound different tonight? Are you sure this is about dinner?” He asks, sounding curious. I bite my lip.

“Just was thinking about it… If you’re not interested…”

“No!” He almost yells through the phone, cutting me off in a panic.

“I just…” he hesitates and I hear the vulnerability in his voice, making my heart clench. “I’ve been asking you out for a while now and you’ve always avoided answering…”

My fingers tremble slightly as I hold the phone. Holding my breath thinking he’s going to say no.

“How about that fancy Italian place you’ve been going on about? You can dress up, if you want to that is… I’m not telling you…” he panics. Back tracking like he always does when he thinks there’s a chance of confrontation.

I smile, he remembered… But then my mind forces me to remember what this is and the guilt comes crashing back.

“I know Matt… It’s okay. Anyways, Italian sounds great”, a ghost of a sad smile touching my lips. “I’ll see you at 8 tonight”

I hang up, my thoughts tangle until I can’t pull one free. Before I can catch myself I pull my lower lip between my teeth.

The trap is set.

If his obsession is as deep as I feel it is he’ll come. Not after, not during but before I go on the date.

Not to persuade me not to go, but to try to force me to stay.