Ropes and Lace | MM Romance PREVIEW

Chapter 19 - Leave Me

I freeze on the spot and, even though my instinct to flee has activated and every one of my limbs is rigid with the urge to run in terror as I scream for help and mercy like a lunatic, I find myself unable to move a single muscle. I imagine my expression is one of absolute terror, my eyes wide as saucers with contracted pupils and cold sweat soaking my temples bulging veins, because Elliot tenderly caresses my cheek and leans in to lovingly whisper:

"I'll handle it," he promises with conviction, and I shiver as his breath warms my sensitive skin. "Stay here and don't make any noise."

I nod, biting my lower lip with such disproportionate force that it baffles me that the edge of my teeth doesn't pierce the flesh. Elliot places a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth before getting up, dressing, and hurrying to the door, opening it just enough to exit without exposing who's hidden inside his luxurious room. I sit on the edge of the bed with extreme caution and inhale deeply, repeating over and over again to my anguished heart that we'll be fine, to calm down and stop beating as if it were trying to pierce a hole in my sternum to escape to the other side of the world with no intention of returning.

I stand up with great effort because my knees are shaking. I pick up the pieces of my clothes, scattered on the floor due to the blinding despair that intoxicated me at the wonderful perspective of finally sinking into his beautiful feline body, and I quickly put them on. I can't hear any of what's going on outside; they're talking too softly, so it's unfeasible to discern the excuses Elliot is offering to explain my obvious disappearance, and I hate that I can't examine Connor's reaction. I don't know their relationship well enough to assume a reasonable outcome either, so my only option is to wait.

That doesn't mean I have to sit on my hands, though.

Curiosity increases to such irrepressible levels that it forces me to act; first by sticking my ear to the wall to such a degree that my cheekbone soon protests in pain and my neck twists at a strange and uncomfortable angle. After that failed tactic, I try the keyhole, hoping that their voices will filter through, even a little, but it also results in a resounding failure. With the easy and safe alternatives ruled out, I have no choice but to choose the more risky and unnerving path.

I push the handle with considerable gentleness as if it were made of glass and could fracture at the slightest pressure, until the characteristic 'click' alerts me that I've accomplished the initial objective. Now comes the complex and intricate part. I pull until the door begins to open, thankful that the hinges are greased because they don't squeak, and I slither like a snake down the long, poorly lit hallway. The ceiling is very high, there are no decorations for me to trip over, and since I am barefoot, my footsteps are soundless, so I can move without the constant worry of causing a bodily accident or destroying some financial or sentimental treasure.

I wish it was a joke, but I have an extensive list of such anecdotes that are hard to forget.

I track Elliot and Connor into the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee seeping through my nostrils and flooding me with the particular nostalgia that such a familiar aroma elicits. They're seated in the dining room, two steaming mugs on the table in front of each of them, deep in conversation based on murmurs and excessive gestures, and I remain hidden behind a corner, cautiously and anxiously eavesdropping. I have to focus to hear them from my position, even having to regulate my breathing so that it doesn't get in the way of my hearing, but the big picture is pretty clear.

They are talking about me.

"I still don't like the idea of him being asleep when you could be in the middle of a collapse," Connor grumbles, frowning reproachfully. Ah, so that was Elliot's pretext for my absence. I grimace, weeping internally that my reputation is being bruised.