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Me: I know about Sleuther. I’ve been tracking you too. Care to tell me why you were in a bar in Port Douglas until well past your bedtime? And stop drinking. You’re alone. You’re underage.
I pressed send but then wrote more, unable to stop myself.
Me: You asked me who she was? I wished I had the strength to tell you what I should tell you. I wish I could tell you that I slept with her. That whatever this thing is between us means nothing. I wish I could break your heart by breaking mine and prove to both of us that my fear of deportation and my loyalty to your parents will always win over how you make me feel. But...tonight, I can’t. Tonight, I’ll simply tell you the truth. Who was she, Nerida? She wasn’t fucking you.
My entire body thumped in time with my chaotic heartbeat. My fingers twitched with it. My toes clenched with it. I felt out of breath and manic and wild and when her text came in, I wanted to howl at the fucking moon for the awful mess we’d caused.
Neri: I hate that there was anyone else. I hate that I’m not there with you. I hate that even if I was, you probably wouldn’t touch me. Put me out of my misery, Aslan. Did you sleep with her?
I swallowed hard, clinging to honesty when all I wanted to do was lie.
Me: I tried.
Neri: What does that mean?
Me: It means, I tried. And I failed.
Neri: Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you failed because she wasn’t me. Tell me you don’t feel this. Tell me something, Aslan, because I’m going insane feeling this on my own.
This was the moment.
The last moment to stay safe.
Death cackled in the night, eager and ever watchful.
If I did this, I ran the risk of falling into its murderous embrace.
But I couldn’t not do this.
I couldn’t fight...not anymore. Not in this single moment beneath moonshine and starlight, floating on a sea I despised.
Me: You’re not crazy.
Neri: You feel it too?
Me: Fuck yes, I feel it. I dream of you. I ache for you. I’m so fucking wrapped up in you that it petrifies me because if I had to choose my life or yours...I’d choose you every time.
Neri: Come back and choose me then. We’ll tell my parents and live happily ever after.
Me: Tell them what exactly? That the overstayer they’ve hidden in their garden for four years wants to fuck their daughter?
Neri: Is it wrong that I just got full-body chills? The thought of you doing that to me? The thought of you inside me...
Me: Neri...stop. I can’t go there. I won’t.
Neri: I think of you...when I touch myself. I watched online how to pleasure myself and now, I can’t stop. Every time I do, I imagine you touching me, kissing me, fucking me...
Fuck.
FUCK!
My cock rippled with a release, daring me to stroke just once.
She’d made me hypersensitive. Trigger-line reactive where I’d explode if she sent one more text, filling my mind with her writhing and coming and—
Neri: I only want you. I want you to be my first and my last. I can wait. If you need me to wait for years, I can. I’ll be patient. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Tell me that you want me the way I want you and I’ll fight every day for you. We can try to get married. The moment I turn eighteen, we can apply for a family citizenship visa for you. You could stay here without any fear. You could stay here...with me...as my husband.
My throbbing desire choked me.
