Page 13

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking of ways to kill myself but how to ignore this man and I’m not sure which is healthier.

I’ve decided I need to stay away from him for sixty-eight days. On my twentieth birthday, I’ll reach my deadline and leave this place for good.

When I turned nineteen, I told myself that if nothing changed within a year, I wouldn’t continue past it.

It’s been almost ten months, and life has kept moving forward even when I haven’t.

Every day I lose hope, little by little, the sunrise isn’t comforting, it only helps me cross another date off the calendar. And I almost look forward to reaching the deadline. So, just two more months, and then I won’t have to face him, ever again. Or confront the emotions he keeps unravelling within me.

But it’s really impossible to do so when I’m bumping into him every now and then.

He’s always quiet, watching me until I move first, which I always do, slipping past him with my eyes fixed on the ground.

Because when I look at him, my heart does this stupid thing where it skips, and my stomach turns over in a way I don’t like, and suddenly I’m very aware of my own breathing.

I notice his eyes more than I should, brown eyes with faint green specks near the iris that I only catch when I’m already looking too long.

And his scent…I don’t have a better word for it. His scent lingers in a way that makes me hyper-aware of how close I am standing, too close but it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

That thought makes me pause. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I didn’t think I had it in me.

And now, this…feeling is unsettling and I’m unable to pin it down or push it away.

I don’t know if I’m living in my head or if Sergei is actually walking towards me.

I swallow when I fail to step back in time, and he’s suddenly there, moving at a speed of lightening, too close, easily towering over me.

I can’t think properly like this. Not when he’s this close.

His chest is inches away, his arms relaxed at his sides as he peers down at me. Like always, I try to step past him, but his hand shoots out and closes around mine.

The sudden contact of his skin against mine sends a sharp jolt through me, catching me off guard.

My cheeks burn, heat spreading through me at his proximity, and then he speaks.

“Elara.” His breath brushes my skin as he says it, and I hate how sharply I react to just my name on his tongue.

My body betrays me before I can stop it and a small, involuntary shiver rakes through me.

He says my name again, softer this time. “Elara.” I need to breathe.

I look up at him and bite the inside of my lip, unable to stop myself from thinking things I shouldn’t.

The corner of his lips lift into that infuriating smirk, and my grip on myself slips further. I reach out without thinking, trying to anchor myself, but before my hand finds anything, his fingers close around mine.

His touch is electric, and for a second my thoughts completely stall. I don’t hear anything properly. I don’t think properly.

My brain has been working overtime all my life but now it’s eerily quiet, and everything narrows down to where he’s holding me.

Having a reaction to a man touching me like this is not what I expected. Having a reaction at all is not what I expected.

“What are you doing?” I manage, but my voice comes out weaker than I intend.

His gaze drops to my mouth, and I become painfully aware of it. “Elara.” His gravely voice does something infuriating to my focus.

“Shut up.” I mutter beneath my breath, but it lacks any real bite.

His smirk has now turned into a full-blown smile. And I hate that I can’t tell if he knows what he’s doing to me or if I’m just imagining it.