Chapter Eighty-Two

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T h e H o l l o w s O f
H I R A E T H
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Jameson seemed confused by my input, but soon recovered. "Only for you." He smiled and wound a blonde strand of my hair around his index finger. I think my heart just melted. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if my body shut down and went into cardiac arrest any second now.

But it didn't matter what I felt for him; there was no way in earth we'd ever be allowed to be together. That statement on it's own sounded peculiar to me; there wasn't even a point in mentioning it-it's impossible.

"What's wrong?" Jameson's voice brought me back to the now, and I saw in front of me as Jameson's index finger still held onto that strand of hair, however his face displayed an assortment of contrasting emotions to his small playful actions. I then realised my eyebrows had furrowed, placing a very deep frown between them.

I sighed, "What next?" I asked him first, "I mean we obviously feel something," I couldn't help but cringe at possibly admitting my emotions to Jameson. "But we can't do anything with it. It's like an underage alcoholic craving a beer at the pub; illegal." I finished with an exasperated heave.

However, it seems as if Jameson doesn't feel the same infuriated way, or just didn't get the memo. He smiled at me, evidently keeping in a small bout of laughter. I crossed my arms over my chest in defence.

"What?" I demanded, thoroughly annoyed that Jameson wasn't taking this seriously. Does he even feel the same way as I do? Is he mocking me?

"Whoa calm, I can practically see all the wrong wheels spinning in your head." Jameson commented, his flippant attitude still lingering as he light heartedly tapped my forehead.

"The comparison was bad," Jameson shrugged, "That's all." Now I feel inferior, and completely foolish. I hate to admit it, but I guess girls really do overthink. Who would've known?

Thinking on my feet, I quickly, and smugly, responded, "Well, it can't be any better than your Notebook comparison." I huffed, my tone much more sour than I had intended, making even me squirm.

Jameson noticeably grimaced, "I'd have to agree." He acknowledged, nodding his head with an expression similar to the underling feeling I had been hit by just mere seconds before.

"So what do we do?" I asked Jameson, the question hitting a few nerves. What can we do? Even if we did carry on this secret and forbidden romance, it'd have to be exactly that: secretive and forbidden. We couldn't show affection in public, it'd be the most agonisingly felonious relationship known to mankind. It would be painful.

When Jameson looked at me in exactly that way: pained and helpless, I felt as my whole world shattered.

"It's wrong, very wrong," Jameson started, pondering on his words for a few seconds before moving forward, contrary to his physical movements as he took a few steps backwards. I felt like a disease, like if he got too close, he'd die.

"There's no way we would be able to keep it hidden, it would take a lot of self-control-on my part anyway, I don't know about you-we would be together a lot, we can't show any type of emotions that are more than friendly to each other," Jameson paused abruptly, probably noticing my facial expression.

He put his palm up to me, "Let me finish," He told me, not waiting for an answer before continuing on. "The only way this would work is if we weren't together all the time." Jameson concluded, though didn't sound at all finished.

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