Chapter 13
?
Cotton candy disasters.
Morana
Dabbing cotton candy clouds all over Kyran’s room has a marvelous kick to it. I cannot express how much thewhiteandblackhas bored me to tears. But now, after tossing his boring bed into a guest room, painting over his black walls with white until they finally gave in, and getting pinks and blues settled into the space, I am correcting the sin.
Kyran now lives in a pretty e-boy bedroom.
Horror stories, consider yourselves banished.
Or else.
On the side of the room I’ve already finished painting, Kyran sits at the top of a ladder, securing the chain for his brand-new ice-bluesensory swing. Because, ahem,Ihave always wanted one, and this is the perfect opportunity for some vicarious living.
Beyond my blatantly taking advantage of the situation, something about seeing it all come apart and then back together in semi-permanent ways has my spirit settling.
Ever since last week—when preparation, ordering, and tear up began—a steady feeling of peace has grown. Up until the fifth coat of white went on the walls, I didn’t quite believe that we werereallydoing this, that Kyran wasreallyletting me overhaul his whole bedroom however I saw fit.
Now, it’s clear.
There’s a bolt in his ceiling where there wasn’t one before.
It’s soothing to know that he meant it when he said he’d weave us together in ways that wouldn’t easily come apart.Without a single complaint or protest, he’s let me carve myself into his personal space as though this past week hasn’t been a significant amount of labor. To undo what I’ve done now would be exhausting, and on his own I’m not certain he has the stamina for it. He’s verymehsometimes. Real go with the flow. It’s why whenever he gets serious about something, the contrast is so stark it’s almost unsettling.
When he’sserious, it’s like he gathers all the energy he’s been saving up and laser focuses.
Nothing will keep him from his goals.
He’s determined.
Passionate…
Committed.
And, if I’m honest, I’m starting to miss the taste of him a lot more than I will ever admit to. Now that my bruises are yellowing, every cell in my body is complaining that I need new ones. He reawakened desires I’ve tried not to think about since the days when I let them take too much of a hold of me and guide me toward less-than-wise decisions.
“Hm?” he murmurs, attention fixed on setting up the safety equipment for the swing. “What is it, mistress?”
“Mm?” I swallow, return to my cloud dabbing. “Oh. Nothing.” I’m definitely not thinking about finishing up here, waiting for the paint to dry, working on setting up all your new furniture, then seeing what it would take to get you to pin me to some of it…
I, unlike you, am capable of controlling myself.
And that’s why I always have.
Without any slip ups…
At all…
Ever…
And here I thought hormones back in high school were impossible to wrangle. I’ve never before been this subjected tohow difficult it is when youwantsomeone like this…and are often alone with them…in private spaces…
Man, Kyran’s been suffering for months, hasn’t he?
I fully understand why he’s been so careful since we kissed. Barely a touch. Hardly a graze.
