𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒

August 17

August by Taylor Swift

The bright light through the large windows peered into the room. My body shifted beneath the soft covers, sniffing the fresh morning air. Perfect moment was interrupted as my eyes flew open. Last night, Calvin, car. Where was I? The room was different from mine; it wasn't even my house in the first place. The walls were darker, the windows bigger. On the nightstand beside the bed I found a glass of water. Without any hesitation, I drank it empty.

Please don't tell me this is his house. Asshole, I hate him. I need to go. Taking my phone from the nightstand, I pushed the door open, walking out into a long corridor. The sage green painted walls slightly irritated me, as did these paintings.

Where do I go? I was in this house before, yet only used the bathroom on the first floor. Alright, let's go left. My feet guided me in a search for an exit. Different paintings hang on the walls, from landscapes to portraits. The corridor felt like an art gallery.

One painting caught my eye. The brunette woman sat on the white chair, her back straight, her face soft. The familiar green eyes, it was his mother. Under the painting in front of me was a small table with only one book and a candle on it. How creepy.

"You're awake," a voice caught me off the guard.

There he stood, hands in the front pockets, sly smirk on his beautiful lips. And I, who probably looked like a mess.

"Not dead," I announced.

"Shit happens," he nodded.

Taking steps closer towards me, I wished I could escape. The plan was to avoid him and not wake up in his mansion.

"Do you fancy a breakfast?" He asked.

"I fancy a million dollars and a yacht," I replied. "However, I've got to go."

My movements were stopped by his hand on mine. Our colors were locked for a slick moment before I snatched my hand from his hold, immediately feeling cold. Hurt washed in his forest green.

"Don't," I mumbled.

"Vic, let's talk, please," he responded softly, the smirk faded away.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"How about us?"

"The thing is," I shook my head. "I don't care."

I knew it hurt him, I knew it was wrong. Regardless I couldn't help my emotions at the sight of him. I wanted him so badly that I hated him for it.

Without any other word I left his house.

-

After the refreshing shower I wore a light beige dress. Lillian and Margaret came by and we sat in my yard on the cozy sofa. The brunette was painting the landscape, putting her colors on the low table. Lillian suffered from a headache. Yesterday was great, yet nobody could remember the last half of the night. I remembered. Calvin drove me to his house, carried me inside and then I fell asleep.

"I swear, me and tequila are family. It gives me the same headache," Lillian muttered.

"Nah, we love tequila," I replied. "Not everybody loves their family."

"Agreed," Margaret nodded, not tearing her eyes from the paper.

"Whatever, same effect," Lillian sat up, drinking her water.

My father's figure stepped out of the house, guiding him towards the three girls. His fresh shaved face wore a small smile. Secretly he was happy that I made friends with these girls.

"Ladies," he announced. "You doing alright?"

"Yes," we answered in unison.

He probably knew about our rendezvous yesterday, however he didn't know where I was sleeping and I forgot to warn the girls. Bloody hell I am dead.

"You had a sleepover last night?" He asked, his hands behind his back waiting for my answer.

"I decided to watch movies with Margaret and I invited Vicky to come over. Nothing to worry about Mr. Grey." Lillian lied through her charming smile.

With a slight hesitation, he nodded, believing her.

"Your mother and I are leaving for some business to attend."

"Alright," I nodded. "Have fun."

"You too," he replied, giving me a small kiss on my forehead. "Bye girls."

"Goodbye," they waved his way.

An uneasy feeling ran through me. Something's wrong. My stomach twisted.

"So," Margaret put her brush down. "Where have you been after you left the party?"

"At Calvin's," I sighed. "Before you start, don't. I slept in a guest room and he wanted to make sure I was alright. That's it."

Their faces lit up in excitement and shock. I guess my words of 'don't start' were pointless. Lillian immediately sat up straight, Margaret following suit.

"Details," they waited for my answer.

"We kissed," I finally told them.

Honestly I should have told them sooner, yet there was never enough time for me to begin with this conversation.

"What do you mean you kissed?" Margaret asked.

"You know when two people stare into each other's eyes and then lean in and their lips over another," I explained, rolling my eyes.

"When?" Lillian examined.

"The day of the chess thornier, at the poetry event, and days before when we went to dinner," I said.

"Woah," their mouths flew open.

"I knew that!"

"Is he a good kisser?"

"Did he kiss you back?"

"Ridiculous question, of course he did."

"But something obviously happened."

"What?"

They went on without letting me speak first. I didn't want to tell them what happened, because I don't really know it myself. Calvin has no answer to what that kiss was and it probably meant nothing to him. Hatred for what he's doing to me is rising each second. The way his gaze would be on mine and the burning touch. Weakness is spreading inside of me. And even though he has that effect on me, I still detest his choice of words and stupid silence he's given me, after a basic question.

"I don't know, it was a mistake," I shrugged my shoulders. Playing with my fingers on my lap, I really wasn't in the mood for deep conversations about my feelings.

"Victoria, what do you mean by mistake?" Margaret examined. "Don't you dare to talk like that. The stares between you two were too obvious to come out as a mistake in the end."

"He always looked when you didn't notice," Lillian agreed. "He smiled your way. Smiled!"

"So what," I shrugged. "I smile your way too; does that mean I fancy you?" I looked towards Lillian.

"I don't see why not? I am hot, intelligent and very charming," the Florence girl chuckled, pushing the raven hair behind her ear.

"Piss off," I pushed her playfully, giggling.

"Guys stop flirting," Margaret joined in.

I was glad to change the topic, not caring if they needed details or not. However, their words stuck in my mind. He looked my way? If he had no idea of what he was doing, why admire me from across the room? He was good at hiding his intentions and even with my knowledge I arrived at the dead end. Stones on my shoulders are getting heavy and I just wish I won't fall from the pressure.