Such Sweet Sorrow

Thirty

Eloise Waldorf

I paced around my room, watching the minutes tick away at the clock at a speed that made me want to tear my hair out. 

Why ten minutes? He was severely underestimating my ability to overthink and worry myself in just ten minutes. I was never really nervous about doing anything sexual whatsoever with Draco, but right now, only separated by a thin wall and the thickest sexual tension known to man, I was starting to overthink. 

I wasn't second guessing. I wasn't doubting just how much I wanted him. I wasn't regretting my decision to lead him on and be bold in my word choice. 

I was growing insecure with myself. 

In the moments with Draco, I felt like what I envisioned an actual goddess felt like. With my magic tingling in my fingers and my nerves lighting up with every touch of my skin on his, I felt like I was on top of the world. The hormones in my head and coursing through my blood stream in those hot and heavy moments erased any bit of doubt from my head that tried to tell me I wasn't as powerful, beautiful, and alive as I felt. 

But in reality, I could look like an absolute boorish prude that didn't know what the fuck she was doing. My sex hormones hyped me up so much, but what if in reality I wasn't doing anything right. What if I looked like a total idiot, and Draco was just too nice to say anything about it. 

Oh god, now I was embarrassed. Was I really sitting here pacing around my room because I was worried about what my...sex face looked like?

I put a cool hand to my head and took a breath. 

Don't be dramatic, Eloise. Calm yourself. You're clearly overthinking. 

What if I'm absolutely terrible at...giving...and he was too embarrassed for me to say anything about it? I mean, I was new to this, after all, and Draco Malfoy was known for being quite experienced. 

I was probably making a damn fool out of myself and I didn't even know it. 

But then again...if I was making a fool out of myself, why would he continue to do such things with me? He could have any witch in the castle, but yet, here I was counting down the minutes until our next sexual encounter. 

He was snogging Daphne Greengrass only a few weeks ago, a witch that wizards and witches a like fawned over like mad! And here he was still pursuing me!

How the fuck has it only been 4 minutes? 

I sat at the foot of my bed and held my head in my hands, before raking my fingers through my hair. Sometimes I wished I could just shut my brain off and live without the constant running feed of worst case scenarios, self-deprivation, and overthinking that was on a constant loop in my head. 

The fact that there are people in the world, in this castle even, that live their lives without a lick of doubt, worry, or fear, absolutely blows my fucking mind. There are people that take things for what they are, make decisions immediately, and take risks without thinking about the forty-eight different ways it could go wrong before even agreeing to do it. 

The thought of someone having a thought process on the completely opposite end of the spectrum from me was so outrageous, that the longer I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that there was no way a person like that existed. 

A brain free of anxiety was my idea of perfection, and after the past two years, I was convinced that perfection was an unattainable ideal that I would only ever get to dream about. 

How the fuck was there still 5 minutes left?

I was impatient, and I was going to start losing my ever loving mind if I didn't do something--anything--within the next few seconds. Patience is a virtue, but not one that I currently possessed, and definitely not when it came to Draco bloody Malfoy.