The Mark of the Wild Flower

Chapter 11, The Change

I wake up to find Fabian sitting on the bed and frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I must’ve been asleep for so long because my voice quivers. Brilliant, I try really hard to sound sexy, but my body is out here defying it.

“I didn’t think you’d find my creepy two-year obsession.” He sounds confused.

“You didn’t do a very good job at hiding it. Well to be honest I also obsessed over you as well, but I did not have a picture.” I smile hoping to make him feel better.

“I was suppressing my feelings for you but every now and then I looked at this picture and feel better.” He seems genuinely sorry.

“So where did you scavenge the picture from?”

He gives an awkward laugh, “I stole it from Phoebe’s room. We were there one evening for dinner and I walked past her room hoping to find something of you and then I found this. I could never quite describe this obsession with you.”

I frown at the word obsession, “I’m afraid that I would have to admit to the same feelings. Fabian, I hurt so much these past two years, and then when I finally started feeling normal, I found you. In the rubble of what used to be my life, you had sprung from the ashes. At first I thought you returned to taunt me.” I could feel a wicked smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. He seems to notice and starts to mimic me.

“Oh my dear, a fool would only believe that I’m not here to taunt you.” He moves closer. Making me very aware of myself. I can feel heat creeping up my neck.

“Oh?” I lick my lips trying to catch him in my game.

“Tell me something,” he trails off, after the two weeks I spent here I learned he loves to change the subject by trying to entice my thoughts. It has become this little game we play. He’d start knocking on the door of my mind and I’d slowly let him. After coaxing my thoughts into submission, he moves in for the kill. Just like that I become putty, and we would kiss, and talk and giggle, until Donna and Lucian interrupts our fun.

Remembering that we are supposed to leave for home to celebrate my birthday tomorrow makes me sick. I don’t want to leave this bubble I am in. “Is it going to hurt?” he goes rigid and gone is the playful young boy, replaced by this tormented young man.

“Ellie, it’s only going to hurt for a second.” I can tell he’s omitting some truths.

“What are you not telling me?” I search his face for hints.

He stands up from the bed and then starts unbuttoning his shirt. It’s been 2 weeks and the closest we came to i*********e was kissing. He hasn’t even hiked his fingers under my shirt. He even made bed on his couch in the living room. This will be the first time I’ll see him without a shirt since swimming at his house with Phoebe and Craig when I was 7.

“What are you doing?” Even though this poor boy had to look at my body 2 weeks ago promised he only looked as a doctor and not as a man and I haven’t perused his front torso, it is hardly the time for frolicking. “Fabian I wasn’t inviting activities of this nature.” And there is the pathetic proof I am not ready for a physical relationship as I can’t even utter the word s*x in front of this man.

“I’m showing you the pain.” And he rips the last button off, with gusto.