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His anger is as powerful as his body and I sway slightly from it. It makes me feel guilty and at the same time, it makes butterflies in my stomach wake up.
Damn it.
How does he always do that? How does he control every single thing about me?
“He’s my friend,” I say with gritted teeth. “I didn’t let him do anything. He was being nice. And you’re one to talk. You couldn’t stop flirting with Leslie this morning. You didn’t even touch your freaking custard.”
Ugh.
I can hear myself being all peevish and childish but I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop this jealousy.
Another step closer and we’re practically nose to nose. Or more like my face to his chest since he’s so much taller than me.
“I want you to do something for me,” he rasps.
“I’m sorry?”
“I want you to run.”
Something in his tone, in the mean lines of his face makes me swallow. “W-what?”
“I want you to turn around and run. As fast as you can.” He pauses to pull in another breath. “The way I’m feeling right now. The way I’m twisted up. I don’t…”
There’s hardly any space between us but still, I move closer to him. I’ve never seen him like this. All agitated and riddled with angst. Every breath, every word that comes out of his mouth is so tortured, so laden with harrowing things that all the instincts I possess make me want to comfort him.
Take away his pain, even though he’s hurting me too.
“You don’t what?”
Zach’s eyes are swirling with a predatory glint. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
I can’t even say, you won’t hurt me. Because I know he can. Not physically, no. Emotionally, yes.
He can hurt me. He did hurt me this morning.
As I watch him now, I realize how capable he is of destroying me. And I’m not talking about bullying or the past.
I’m talking about right now.
I’m talking about the way I feel for him. The way I disregard the rules of my job, the way he makes me proud when he reads, the way my heart swells when he’s with Art, the way he makes my skin sing when he touches it.
Maybe what I’m feeling isn’t childish at all.
Maybe it’s the most profound emotion we as humans, can feel.
God, when did he become this powerful and when did I become so powerless?
“I –”
“Run,” he growls, this time louder.
And I don’t even stop to think about it. I do as he says: I run.
I take off into the woods. I run as fast as I can.
I’m not running from my bully. I’m running because he hasn’t been my bully for a long time now. He’s something else to me now.
Something more.
The light of the moon’s beating down at me through the leafy branches of the trees. For some reason, even the stars are brighter.
The leaves are crunching under my boots. That’s the only sound, except for the sound of my breathing. But then, another sound joins in.
He’s running after me. Chasing me.
I knew he would.
Like Orion.
The thought makes me stop and, panting, I turn to face him.
He’s right there, a few feet away.
“You stopped.”
I walk backward. “I didn’t want to run anymore.”
He walks forward, toward me. “Why not?”
Because he is to me what sharp objects are to fragile things. What a flame is to a moth.
Destiny.
We are destiny, Zach and I. We’re stars, aren’t we?
You can’t run from destiny. You can’t outrun fate. You can’t stop a moth from perishing in flames and you can’t stop a sharp object from making a fragile thing bleed.
“Because I don’t want to play games anymore.”
“You think this is a game?”
“No. This isn’t a game.” I keep walking backward, unafraid because if something happens, he’ll lunge forward to save me. “Who am I?”
He frowns, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My prize.”
My back hits a tree and I arch my spine, wrapping my hands around the trunk. “Then, you should claim me. But you should also know one thing.”
“What thing?”
“This prize belongs to you but you belong to this prize just as much.”
Zach finally reaches me and leans forward to put his palms on the rough bark of the tree. “Yeah?”
I lift my chin. “Yes.”
“You know why I wasn’t eating that freaking custard?”
“Why?”
“Because I was waiting for you. Because I thought like every day, you’d come and we’d…”
“Eat together.”
Finally, I smile.
He moves his hands and buries them in my loose hair, tilting up my neck. “You know what belonging to me means?”
“What?”
His forehead drops to mine. “It means that you’re the only thing in this world that I feel… responsible for.” His frown is so deep that I feel it on my skin. “You’re the first thing that’s ever belonged to me. The very first thing and I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”
