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He casts his eyes to gaze at the soft, rippling lake.
I lean back on my hands. “I missed you.”
His eyes shoot to mine. “You shouldn’t have. I’m not the same guy anymore, Rhi.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Have you seen anything in the past few days to think otherwise?”
I have. Just giving me the gift of cardstock and drawing pens is very much like the old Xavier, but I don’t tell him that. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
I glance out to the crystal lake, catching the sun’s glare off the small waves, once more. The only sound is the birds chirping and my thundering heart wishing for all the things that could have been. And it’s in this moment, I let it fade away. My Xavier is gone now.
He stands, reaching his hand down to me. “Let’s head back.”
I don't take his hand this time.
The next morning,Xavier fetches me for our morning breakfast, and already my stomach recoils at the thought of spending any time with him.
“You remember Dean?” he asks, on our way to the kitchen. “He’s coming here today.”
Ah, Dean. How could I ever forget the boy who constantly baited me.
When we reach the dining area, I take my usual seat and Xavier sits close to me.
“So, you and Dean have remained friends over the years?” I ask. My appetite disappears, and I shake my head no to the fork with scrambled eggs.
“Yes,” he brings the fork closer to my lips, “now open.”
“No,” I tell him. “Is he like your boss?”
This earns me a chuckle from his infuriating sexy lips. “No, more like my right hand man.”
“Oh, I see.” But, I really don’t. How nice. The fact he remained in contact with Dean doesn't sit well with me.
He lifts the fork to my lips again, and I turn my head. “If I can't feed myself, I won't eat.”
He eyes me and the tip of his tongue caresses the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not going to attack you. It’s not like I’m going to bring you down with an eating utensil.” And let’s be real here, the thought of piercing flesh with a fork repulses me. “Even though I may want to,” I mumble under my breath.
His hand holding the fork is still suspended in the air as he studies my face. Then he hands it over to me.
A little stunned he actually gave in, I take it, scooping the food from my plate and taking a bite.
“Maybe I liked feeding you.”
“It’s the control, huh?” I ask as I grab another forkful.
He raises his brow. “Something like that.”
And then he turns away from me. And that’s it for our conversation.
Somewhere in the late evening, I fall asleep out of sheer boredom. It’s dark when I wake, and I cross to the window and lean my forehead against the cool panes.
A convertible, black car pulls into the circular drive, and when the door opens, a man, wearing jeans and a grey button down shirt, emerges.
A few minutes later, my door opens.
