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I was listening to music from the new shiny phone Zeke bought me when he stood at my door, leaning against the frame.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.
I quirked my eyebrow at him. He smirked when he saw I didn’t ask him what I wanted to ask.
“Since you’re not curious about where we’re going, you can get ready in 15 minutes, right?” he asked. His eyes shone with an excited glimpse.
I glared at him, and he must’ve enjoyed pulling out some reaction from me, because he chuckled and left my room, whistling.
Even though I tried to stay unaffected by him, I couldn’t ignore the excitement inside me. It was almost like the old times when he did everything in his power to make me smile.
With a sigh, I decided not to change my outfit. Since I didn’t know where he was taking me, the t-shirt and sweatpants I was wearing would be fine. At least I had matching bras and panties, it was a luxury I didn’t have before Zeke brought me here.
His eyes roamed over me when I met him in the kitchen. He was preparing a basket. I frowned but didn’t ask. After what happened in my room the other day and what he told me last night, the claws on my chest didn’t suffocate me as much as they used to. I think his desperation, his need, and his own pain subdued mine in a way, reassuring me that I wasn’t the only one who’d been hurting.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I was expecting him to head for the elevator, but he chose the stairs. With a frown, I followed him. He climbed the stairs with an excited sprint in his steps. When I came to a stop next to him, he smiled down at me and opened the door to let us on the roof.
After a few steps into the space, I stopped. It was… beautiful. Tentatively, I took a few more steps, all the while feeling his gaze on me. I knew he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know what to tell him. Something inside me bloomed, almost like the old times when he did things to surprise me.
I took in the view before my eyes. We were above the city. The sunset colored the sky like a daring artist. The wind was so soft, it was like a caress on my arms. And in front of me was a pool that shone with the reflection of sunlight.
“Do you like it?” he asked. He sounded much younger with the uncertainty and expectation.
I nodded. There was no reason to deny it.
“You must be hungry. Let’s eat before we swim,” he said, and I swallowed the nerves. Swim? Just like we did that weekend, he taught her how?
I knew I should’ve gone back to the loft. I knew I should’ve stopped whatever he was doing before my heart had gotten the wrong memo again, but I couldn’t. Instead, I walked to the table he’d already started to prepare for our dinner.
I wondered if this nostalgia and longing for the past would ever go away if I would ever be able to watch him without feeling like my heart was being sliced open. But no matter how much it hurt, I loved watching him do the same things he used to do. I think there was a word for someone like me… masochist.
For dinner, we had burgers, fries, and waffles. The burgers didn’t look like anything I’d ever eaten. These were high class burgers from high class restaurants that thought the food as an expression of art rather than a need. But the real thing that made my mouth water was the waffle. We never had enough money to spend on waffles, and when Zeke could save enough for us to finally eat waffles, the store was closed. After that, I didn’t have enough enthusiasm. But now, on the roof of a million-dollar place, I was going to eat a waffle.
“Thank you,” I murmured when he placed my burger on a plastic plate.
We ate in silence, sneaking glances at each other. I felt like my guard was slipping a little. A ghost of a smile teased my lips whenever I caught him looking at me with mischief in his eyes like we were flirting.
When we were done eating, he stood up.
“Let’s swim,” he said, unbuckling his belt to take off his jeans.
My mouth went dry when he unbuttoned his shirt. I couldn’t not be affected as he stood in front of me with only his black boxers that hugged his hips like a second skin.
“Come on,” he said, totally oblivious of the fight going on in me. The need I felt for him was much more than sexual, much bigger than just getting off. He was like the air my soul needed, the oxygen my cells screamed to have.
“I don’t have anything to swim in,” I threw the ridiculous excuse, and seeing the way he looked at me he didn’t buy it either.
I knew I could’ve declined his offer and gone back to the loft, but a part of me didn’t want to do that. A part of me that couldn’t get enough of being hurt wanted to enjoy this stolen moment. With a defeated sigh of knowing that I was going to regret this decision, I pulled down my sweatpants and sneakers. I didn’t have enough courage to take off my t-shirt, so I walked to the pool, pulling the hem of my t-shirt down insecurely.
When I stepped inside the pool, he held me by my waist. I was too shocked by his touch to do anything but let him pull me toward the deeper side. I tried to ignore his strong arms around me, tried to ignore his hard body against me, and the way he slowly touched my skin as my t-shirt rode up, but I wasn’t successful. I felt every little thing about this moment, and I didn’t protest when he hugged me closer, putting my head on his shoulder.
“Tell me how to make you happy again?”
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
How could I tell him that I couldn’t stop thinking about him? How could I explain that I was crying because there was something wrong with me? How could I describe the way my heart beat faster, my body got warmer, and my stomach flutters when I was close to him?
