Taming His Stallion [BWWM]

27_Solace

Paege

"Hey," She greeted, offering a small smile while searching my expression for any objections. Like that'd happen.

By the ridges of her fingers, she hoisted a brown paper bag. A bag full of goodies, I presume.

Despite my aversion to people of late, she was one of the few I couldn't avoid.

How she'd managed to get all that before coming over, beats me. But then that was my best friend. She never turned down an opportunity to eat.

Two minutes passed since I'd returned to the Florette's, worn and tired from a hard day's work. And so help, I was in need of a warm bath, among other things.

One perk of staying at the Florette's? Amazing buffets. No doubt Bell would appreciate that. Though the buffets were by no means comparable to the Andrew's Sunday Brunch, it would have to do.

The other guests were amiable enough, but I stuck to myself, finding solace in my own company. Also, I had no desire to partake in trivial conversations, and I could care less what they thought about me.

I didn't have much to say anyway.

Simple things were my undoing.

Last night, around dinnertime, I came down for something to eat, and accidentally happened on one of the couples locked in an intimate embrace.

The sight proved to be too much, in my emotional climate.

My heart ached.

They soon broke apart, but the damage had already been done. The image played in my psyche, making me yearn for what wasn't available to me at present.

Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of the mental image that seemed etched into the back of my eyelids but failed miserably.

Consequently, I took a plate from the table, gathered up all I could eat and backtracked to my room, not leaving for the rest of the night.

It may not be healthy, but I found that it was best to resist forming attachments, which was completely against my nature, considering it was something I craved deeply.

I'd developed the habit of sitting out on the porch, by my lonesome, in an effort to ward off any imminent mental breakdowns. Basking in the fresh air, and gentle warmth, seemed to possess a natural elixir for my torment.

But Bell, she was the only person I could tolerate at the moment. Ironic as that may be, considering she was his sister.

"Hey," I returned, happy that she was here, despite my hypercriticism of recent events.

Leaving the doorway, I made my way to a spot on the rug where I'd been contemplating the dramatic turns in my life of late.

"How are you holding up?" She asked, the familiar click of the door registering in the background.

Placing the brown paper bag atop the table near the sofa, she disrobed of her jacket before coming to join me with the bag in hand.

"Well, I haven't done anything drastic," I admitted, glancing over at her a moment to find her focus already fixed on me. "Like confronting that woman." Yet.

"I think you'd have to stand in a mile-long line for that truth be told," She scoffed, handing me a pint of Ben & Jerry's Brownie Batter along with a disposable spoon, reserving a supersized bag of Potato chips for herself.

"Not that I don't appreciate this," I traced at the rim of the lid absentmindedly, adrift in a string of unpleasant thoughts. "But what are you doing, Bell?"