Allergic to you

Three

Leonie’s pov

My first week at Blackwood Manor was like a dream I never woke up from.

Every morning I woke up at 5:00 AM. I washed my face in the bathroom for the staff. Then I put on my clothes. My binder, then a loose shirt and finally my big chef coat that I really disliked. I kept my hair short and my voice low. I looked down when I walked. I became Leo so much that sometimes I forgot I was a woman.

Jason Black always reminded me that he was watching me.

He would appear in doorways without making a sound. He would lean on the counters while I chopped vegetables. He asked me questions about cooking to hear my voice. Every night at dinner he would eat quietly while I stood against the wall waiting for him to say something.

He would say "good" or "excellent" or sometimes just "perfect".

That one word made me feel happy for three days.

---

But this particular day, I was really nervous.

I was cutting carrots for dinner. My knife was moving up and down in a rhythm I knew well. The kitchen was empty. The house was quiet. I was starting to feel okay when I heard his voice behind me.

"Your knife work is beautiful, " he said.

The knife slipped, I cut my thumb. It hurt a lot. I saw blood on the cutting board. I pulled my hand back.. Before I could move he was there. He grabbed my hand and turned it over for him to see the cut.

I pulled back but he only held them tight. "Don't pull away, " he said in a voice. "Let me see."

His fingers were warm and rough. He held my hand like it was something. He tilted my hand to see the cut better. The cut was not deep. It was bleeding a lot. Blood was dripping onto his wrist.

"You're not allergic, " I said quietly. "My blood is on your skin."

He looked up at me. His eyes were dark. I could not read them. "I know, but that’s only with women but gladly, you are a guy," he said.

We just stood there.

His thumb was pressing on my wrist. The blood was between us. Mine on him, his on me. The air in the kitchen was hot and thick.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"My thumb?" I replied.

"No, " he said. "Being close to me."

Yes I wanted to say. It hurts like a bruise. Like something is burning inside me.

"I'm fine, " I said instead.

He looked at me for a while. Then he let me go and walked to the aid kit. He got a bandage. Wrapped my thumb himself. He did it slowly and carefully, his fingers touching mine.

"You should be more careful, " he said. "I need your hands."

Not as much as I need you to stop looking at me I thought.

"Thank you, " I said.

Then he left. I looked at the bandage on my thumb. I wondered why my heart was hurting.

---

That night I could not sleep.

I was lying in my room on the third floor looking at the ceiling. I was thinking about everything that happened. The way he held my hand, the way he looked at me, the way he talked to me.

He thinks you're a boy, I told myself. He's just being careful because of his condition. It doesn't mean anything.

I knew better. I saw the way his eyes changed when he looked at me. I felt the way his fingers touched mine. I heard the way he said my name. Soft and quiet like a secret.

I put my hand on my chest. I was not wearing my binder. I could feel my breasts moving up and down. In the dark I could pretend I was still a woman.

In the morning I would put my armor back on.

I would keep lying.

---

The fifth day was rainy.

The sky was dark. The gardens were muddy. The windows were like mirrors. I could see myself in them. I was in the pantry looking for saffron. I was using a step stool because I did not want to fall. Then the lights went out.

It was completely dark. The refrigerator stopped humming. The clock on the wall stopped ticking.

I stood still on the step stool, my heart beating fast.

"Leo?" I heard his voice.

"I'm in the pantry " I called out. "The power -"

"I know, " he said. "Don't move. I'll come to you."

I heard his footsteps on the stone floor. Then he was there close to me. I could feel his heat. Smell his scent. Sandalwood and rain. He had a flashlight. It was shining up at us.

"We have a generator, " he said. "It will take five minutes." He tilted his head. "Why are you on a step stool in the dark?"

"I was looking for saffron, " I said. "It's on the shelf."

He looked up at the shelf. Then back at me. "You're scared, " he said.

"I'm not -"

"You're shaking, " he said. His hands came up. He touched my waist. His fingers were on my hips and his thumbs were pressing into my chef coat. I stopped breathing.

“I am cold” I lied.

"You're not cold, " he said quietly. "You're scared.. I want to know why."

The lights came on.

He dropped his hands. Stepped back. His face was cold and unreadable again.

"The generator is on, " he said. "Finish prepping. Dinner is at seven."

He picked up the flashlight before walking away.

I stood on the step stool for a time, my hands shaking my hips still feeling his touch.

He knows I thought. He has to know.

If he knew why did he not fire me?

I could feel it. The crack in my chest in my lies, in the armor I built.

One more touch. One more look.

The girl underneath would break the boy I became.