Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 2

Being reminded of their plight, made Sabrina feel a bit claustrophobic and fearful again.

She rinsed their mugs, and mumbled an, "I'm going to bed," on her way out.

But Edward blocked her way just before she could make her escape.

"What now?" She sighed heavily.

"We said we'd get to know each other," he said.

"Last time I checked, you're the one who said that." Sabrina pointed out with a straight face. "Not me."

"You didn't dissent to the idea," he smugly said.

"Well, this is me dissenting to it right now." Sabrina tried to escape, but again was blocked just in time.

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" He folded his arms, blocking the kitchen door.

"I'm sleepy," she lied.

"You can't be, you just had coffee." He looked bored by her lack of creativity lie. "A pretty strong shot, I might add."

"Okay, fine." She said, slowly breathing out. "What do you want?"

"Just a conversation," he grinned then silently added, "for now."

"What do you mean for now?" She frowned.

Again, she got the feeling that he was flirting with her.

"I mean, for tonight." He smiled. And when he did, she couldn't help but notice how beautifully his face transformed.

"I don't know what I might want tomorrow, or in a week." He shrugged, nonchalantly.

"I don't like being around evasive people," she stated.

Even though she couldn't quite put a finger on why she was getting defensive about a lot with him.

She was usually an easygoing person.

She was a big flirt too, when she wanted to be.

And most times, it wasn't even because she wanted to pursue something romantic with the other party.

But playfulness and charisma were just a big part of her personality.

And yet; something about him and his presence, was continually turning her into what could easily be labeled a stuck up person.

Which both frustrated and aroused her curiosity. Especially about what the root of the transition in her personality was, and most importantly why he had that effect on her.

"Oh, trust me. I can tell." He smiled broadly.

Resignedly, Sabrina rolled her eyes.

"So, is that a yes?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

Realizing that the answers to the questions she now had would only be found by being in his company, she made a quick decision.

"Lead the way," she said.

"Yes ma'am," he grinned victoriously.

"So," Sabrina began as she sat on the couch. "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?" Edward sat next to her.

She wanted to tell him that it was not always polite to ask a woman her age, but decided not to be defensive about anything.

After all, it was the only way she could maintain the personality that she knew herself to have.

"I'm twenty five," she said.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"What?" She asked in a small voice.

Her eyebrows were raised; because she started wondering if there was something to be self conscious about, concerning her age.

"What's so unbelievable about my age?" Her frown deepened.

"Nothing," he said. "How long have you been at your job?"

"About a year now," she shrugged.

"So that's how you're going to play it?" His voice took on an emotionless tone.

"What do you mean?" Sabrina was genuinely confused.

She believed that she had been answering his questions, and couldn't quite figure out what his accusing tone was all about.

"Your stiff responses," he bluntly said.

"Oh," she breathed.

Realizing where things had gone wrong.

She had totally detached and stuck to answering his questions, which resulted in a conversation that felt forced for him.

"Yeah," he fixed her a gaze that she assumed said. 'You really didn't want to talk, did you?' then looked away.

Trying to make up for her dry responses, she made a suggestion.

"We can start again if you like."

"I'd love that," he beamed. "Shall we shake on it too, no?" He teased.

"You're taking things way too far," she let out a light chuckle.

"Okay, I think refusing to shake my hand is allowed." He said, a small grin playing on his face.

"How old are you?" She asked.

"I'm twenty eight," he responded with a straight face. And left it at that.

"Why were you giving me a hard time about how I answer your questions, when you answer mine in the exact same manner?" She called him out, on what she immediately decided was a double standard.

"This isn't how I normally answer questions," he said indifferently. "Or even conversate."

"It's not?" Sabrina frowned.

"No," he shook his head. "I just wanted you to know how it feels like to be on the receiving end of the dry responses."

"So, it's revenge then?" Her frown returned.

"I like to think of it as a lesson on reciprocity," he said with a straight face.

"I see," she muttered softly.

"Does that mean you're the kind of guy who reciprocates even the bad stuff?"

"I'm the kind of guy who helps and nudges karma in the right direction," he said maintaining his poker face.

"You're a horrible person," Sabrina stated.

Deciding that now he had just given her the perfect excuse to leave the room.

"No, I'm not." He laughed, because of how easily she had believed his act.

"And I didn't mean any of that, by the way. I just wanted to shake things up a bit."

"That's a relief," she sighed.

"You were starting to think that you'll be cooped up in here for weeks, with a lunatic?" He asked bemusedly.

"My line of thought didn't get that far, but I'm sure it was headed that way." She chuckled. "And speaking of being cooped up, I think we should check the news."

"We'll check the news in the morning," he quickly said. Grabbing her hand, which had already been reaching out for the remote control.

"It's getting to know the housemate time now." His hand remained on hers, despite her nolonger making an effort to reach for the remote.

She felt warmth where their skins touched.

Warmth that was mixed with something else, something she strongly believed to be longing and desire.

Which she found strange; especially because she thought that someone she had recently met shouldn't have had an erotic effect on her like that.

"If you say so," she softly said. When she momentarily looked at his hand that was still on top of hers; then up to his face, he immediately removed it.

As if this whole time, he hadn't realized the contact of their skins.

Then quickly changed the subject after that.

"I like the notes that you've been leaving for me," he said. "They were the main thing that I always looked forward to on days when I came home."

"Really?" She was still distant and absentminded.

Her mind was still analyzing what had just happened between them, about a minute or two ago.

She wanted to conclude everything by just assuming that she was overthinking things.

But the honest truth was, she didn't think that she was.

If anything, she was convinced that there had been a moment between herself and the stranger.

One that was confirmed during their brief but unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, after she studied the contact of their hands.

"Yes," he laughed briefly. Almost as if at himself, for admitting something that he thought was ridiculous.

"I even keep them in a box somewhere in my room."

"I thought I was the only one who did that," she joined in on the laughter.

Their recent awkward and somewhat sexually charged moment, totally forgotten.

"I must say that it's very brave of you to keep in your possession that horrible handwriting of mine," he said with a boyish grin.

"I know," Sabrina laughed before teasing him.

"The very first time I found your note, I just assumed that you were definitely in a hurry when you wrote it."

Edward laughed heartily. Seeing that he was taking the joke lightly like she had intended him to, she expanded it.

"The second and all the times that followed after, I realized and accepted that you're just one of those people who places the pen in between their toes and then scribble with their foot."

The atmosphere lifted between them after that.

"This is the version of you that I like best," he said during the bouts of laughter.

"About earlier..." she felt the need to apologize for her standoffish attitude.

"It's okay, I totally understand." He cut him off mid sentence, clearly understanding what she wanted to say.

"Our whole encounter is quite confusing. Because we're practically strangers, but..."

"Also not," Sabrina chuckled as she cut him off too.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Is your family from around here?"

"Yes," she smiled.

Something about thinking or talking about her family always brought a smile to her face.

"My family home is about thirty minutes away."

"Big family?" He inquired, probably out of curiosity.

Or just because of her bright smile.

From which he might have believed, that it could only imply that she was thinking about a big number of those she loves and cares about.

"Very extended," she beamed. "Siblings, cousins, parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts. The whole lot."

"I've always wondered what being born in a big family like that is like," he mused.

"You come from a small family?" Her curiosity was aroused.

"Very," he said. "I'm adopted. So, it's basically just me and my adoptive parents."

"I see," her tone was now laced with sadness. "Adoption must be..."

"Hey, none of that emotional atmosphere."

He unexpectedly tipped her chin, which had been lowered when she involuntarily slightly bowed her head in empathy. "What's happening out there is already emotional enough," he said softly.

Upon realizing how close that one action had brought their faces, he quickly withdrew his hand, and shifted a bit farther from her.

"I'm just thinking that it must've been hard for you," she muttered.

And filed away the second confusing moment that had happened between them again.

"It really wasn't," he said. "I was adopted when I was just a month old. And all I know is my adoptive parents, whom I think the world of."

She noticed that his facial expressions radiated warmth and happiness, at the mention of said adoptive parents.

Which she took as a positive sign.

And even led her to believing that he meant what he had just said.

It wasn't just a front created for the benefit of her ears, but a big version of the truth.

"Your real parents..." she began.

"Died in a plane crash," he answered what she hadn't even officially gotten to ask.

As if he knew and was definitely sure that he'd get it right.

"If I wasn't left in a sitter's care, I would have perished right along with them." He responded to another question that she had been about to ask.

"That's so..." When she failed to put her whole line of thought into words, he took over.

"I know," he slowly nodded. "What happened, happened though. And I believe I turned out alright, despite all of it." He smiled bitterly.

Sabrina blinked back the tears that were threatening to embarrass her any second.

"Maybe it's too early for my tragic honesty?" He teased, seeing right through her strong and trying not to cry act.

"No, it's not that." She lied.

"I think you're feeling sorry for me," he lightly accused. Obviously disapproving, but also not harsh about it.

"Is that why you became a pilot?" She asked, connecting what she believed were the major dots between his life story and career.

"I didn't know it at the time of my enrollment, I thought and believed that I was being driven by my fascination for planes." He slowly began. "But with time, I realized that my parents were the real reason. There's this big part of me that just wanted to prevent the crashing of more planes, you know. Even though it's not really something that's fully in my power."

"I think it makes sense," this time it was her who reached out.

By placing her hand on his arm. She had meant it to be a comforting gesture; but when the electrical current struck again, she realized that she was surfing on really dangerous waters.

Therefore retrieved her hand.

"And I know I'd feel safe boarding a plane flown by you," she smiled.

"Thank you," he smiled back.

"For?" She playfully questioned.

"Not making me feel like I'm fixating on something that I should've long left in the past," he profoundly said.

"If you feel certain emotions now, then they're the present." She told him soothingly. "It doesn't matter if they're tied to something that happened years ago."

Edward looked at her for what seemed to be the longest time; before saying, "I think you're going to be good for me."