013: Wrong Foot, Right Turn
1018 Words
[Rosalynd]
I pull my cloak around me tightly as I step out into the dark street. Luckily, Slone's place is an easy walk from here, even in this joke of a dress.
That man, that Gideon, is infuriating. What an ass! I thought he was arrogant before, but now I'm convinced he is some kind of masochistic narcissist. It's a shame he is the leader of that little group, because those ladies deserve someone kinder and more considerate than he is--someone a little less self-centered. I tried so hard because I knew Slone wanted me to meet her friends but he reminds me so much of my mother, of her friends, and how they thought it was okay to make me feel small.
I refuse to let anyone make me feel that low about myself again.
"Wait, stop!" I hear a voice behind me. I begin to walk a bit faster, turning onto K Street, and heading back to Slone's place.
The footsteps behind me become more rapid.
"Stop, please." I hear the voice again, pleading. "I'm sorry. I.."
That's when I recognized the voice.
Part of me wants to stop, to hear what he has to say, but that is the part of me who has been trained to believe that their pain isn't valid. I decided on that bar the moment I grabbed my cloak and walked out the front door. A promise to myself. No longer would I allow anyone else to make me feel lesser.
I could have made him chase me. Instead, I turned around and faced him.
He wasn't expecting me to turn. Faced with my grief-laced anger, he stopped a few steps away as if I were shielded by an invisible barrier that he could not cross without permission.
Gideon stood before me, his chest moving rapidly as he tried to regain his breath, his proud face looking me in the eye for the first time that night, as if he could finally see me.
"Why did you follow me?" my hands are on my hips. "You made it quite clear that I am a waste of time and space to you."
He raises a hand to place it on my shoulder but I step back. I'm not one of his fangirls, enthralled by his every word and movement. I have no interest in having him touch me like a friend when just a few moments ago he was treating me like trash.
"I just. I couldn't let you go," he confesses as he lowers his arm. "I might...I might have misspoke back there, at The Goat."
"That doesn't sound like an apology," I huff, my hands on my hips.
"It isn't," he admits, shrugging. "I wasn't trying to apologize."
"I see," pointing a finger at him, I take a step forward, and another, so that my finger touches the button of his shirt, my eyes glaring up at his infuriatingly cocky face. "So now you are wasting my time..."
"No...I...damn it!" he shakes his head, his face growing red. "None of this is coming out right," he sighs, running his hands through his hair. "I wasn't wrong when I said your life is a mess I..."
"Goodbye!" I turn back around and start walking away.
"Wait," he calls after me again. "What I'm trying to say is that you NEED me."
"Why? Why do I need you?" I shout back over my shoulder, stopping to take deep breaths and steady my nerves. "You already explained it would be a waste of time to "guide" someone like myself. You didn't even give me a chance in there, all because I'm not convinced any of this is real." I'm trying not to cry as I continue. "Rather than show me your truth, you decided to mock me and make me feel small for not growing up with the same reality as you. Why should I give you a chance right now?"
I begin to walk away again when he responds "You're right. I don't deserve a second chance."
I turn to look at him. Did I mishear him? It sounded like he agreed with me.
"You're right, but..I hope you will take a moment to listen to what I have to say." Taking a stride forward, his lavender and sage scent wraps itself around me. I gasp as it overtakes me, calming me in ways that it shouldn't. "I...I want a chance to explain. It's all more complicated than you might realize."
"I'm sure it is," my tone is mocking. "It always is. You know what, do me a favor and just stop. I'm not in the mood to be told all the ways in which I am wrong."
I expect to hear a response from him but instead, I feel him. He stands close to me, not touching me, his heat radiating light and warmth as if trying to lend me comfort.
When I look up at him, something in me clicks into place.
"You feel it," he said as a statement, not a question.
"What is this?"
"It's something that we witches can do, but it only works with our kind." He tries to explain, licking his lips, trying to be careful with his words. "I sent a bit of my aura into yours, blending them, to give you a bit of my calm."
"That feels very.." I search for the right word, "intimate."
"It can be," he swallows nervously. "In the right circumstances."
"Oh." There are so many circumstances where touching without touching could be....well...
Starting to blush I turn away.
"And I apologize," he looks embarrassed, ashamed even. "I should have asked you first, but I saw and I just reacted. I should have asked your consent before blending our auras."
"It's fine," I lie, not sure how I think or feel.
"If you don't mind," he asks, placing a hand on my arm. "I'd like another chance to explain all of this to you."
I nod in agreement, but my insides are churning. My palms are sweating.
Do I want to hear what he has to say?
- Writer
