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by camsnewton

by camsnewton

+CALISTA OMIATA
THE PRESENT TIME

"DESIRE"

forgetting to close your blinds before falling asleep at night can either be the best thing, or the worst. the powerful uv rays from the sun did my eyes no favours as they slowly peeled open to the tune of my phone alarm. it was an idyllic sight outside, the bare trees twinkled as beams of light shone though the gaps between the twigs and a light layer of snow melted on the wood.

my tranquility was wrecked when last night's memory of grayson shaming me at dinner and relating me to 'nothing' resurfaced as the bane of my thoughts. i'd like to think he doesn't actually hate me but his heart is broken and who knows how that's messing with his emotions. with reluctance, i ripped my sleepy head off my pillows, and my body out of bed. my feet blindly found their way into some comfortable slippers while my eyes remained closed — trying to soak up the last little moments of peace and rest.

i found my silk robe and used it to cover my bare body before wandering out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. some crispy bacon would wake me up and lift my groggy self into an elevated state of mind. i needed a happy and positive outlook on my current life situation as yesterday evening surely proved that i have work to do if i intend on repairing my relationship with grayson: which i do.

my confidence from last night which enabled me to be brave enough to ask gray whether he planned on talking to me or not hadn't fizzled out yet. for some odd reason, i still had that fiery confidence inside me which propelled me to pick up my charging phone and call him. assuming he hadn't already blocked me i wondered how long it would take for him to answer my call, or if he would at all.

"what?" his hoarse morning voice greeted me.

"oh wow, you answered!" hearing his voice made me happy, almost flattered that he still regarded me as worth speaking to.

"look cal, i don't have the time or patience to small talk with you."

"sorry, yeah um..." now that i'd dialled his number and he'd picked up the phone, i had no clue what i wanted to say to him. hanging up is a thought which crosses my mind and if our relationship wasn't so fragile i probably would dead the line. "can you come over his morning? i'm making breakfast and we need to talk. in person. maturely."
__________

i heard him knock on my door; five times in the same rhythm he always chooses.

i still only had my robe on and due to the brisk weather outside, which even my double-glazed windows can't block out entirely, my whole apartment is slightly chilled. meaning my nipples are hard and sticking out of the thin fabric which covers them and my body is shivering, which makes me seem nervous — which i'm not.

"hey," i smiled as i opened the barricade which previously denied us from seeing each other. we made eye contact and he stepped inside. his hands ran into my hair which had been freshly straightened as of last night and his lips latched onto my neck.

i stood, perplexed. wondering what i'd done to give off those kind of signals (other than my erect nipples, of course).

"grayson?" i whispered, afraid that using anything other than a toned down 'inside voice' would shatter his serenity.

"calista?" he mumbled back, looking into my eyes with his head only a few millimetres away from mine. "is this," he gestured between us, "not what you called me over for?"

"it's not that i don't like it — but no," i answered.

"so shall i stop?" he replied, looking into my twinkling, lust-filled eyes as he longed to kiss me with a force, with passion and intent.

"well... no," i caved as my fingertips lightly ran over his stubble. he hadn't shaved in a while and he managed to pull of this effortlessly sexy look, skipping the untidy phase altogether. his scruff was neat, just like everything else about him.

he picked me up and me carried on his waist and in his arms, and my legs wrapped around his muscular torso as he walked us towards my bedroom. he kicked open the ajar door and placed me on the bed gently, hovering over me as he peppered kisses on my skin which desired his touch.

"i didn't have that long to make myself pretty before you got here," i told him as his head was nestled in my cleavage.

"you're always beautiful to me," were the words just audible that came from his lips which were too busy pressed against my skin. "you're skin is so soft," he groaned in delight, inhaling my scent which laced my so called 'soft' skin.

"i used the cinnamon scented lotion you bought me last christmas," i giggled, lifting his chin up so that i could see his gorgeous face. he smiled back at me and i could detect relief in his eyes; the only reason i knew it was relief is because i felt it too. being in his arms and in close proximity to him made me happy. even as he insulted me at dinner last night i felt some twinge of sad-happiness that he at least acknowledged me.

"why are you marrying him?" grayson asked, his face woeful and his energy drained. it seemed to take everything out of him to address the problem at hand, and in turn, it took everything fibre in me to not turn around and give in to his plea for me to dump my fiancé.

"he treats me well. i love him and i know he loves me too. he doesn't go off on me when things aren't going his way and he doesn't emotionally blackmail me with memories from the past to compensate for the mess he's made in the present. he's just who he is; he never tries to be something he's not or trick me into believing he wants something for us which he doesn't."

after a long pause which i thought was a meaningful and respectful silence grayson spoke up again: "evan's not even a nice guy," he grumbled, totally disregarding my little heart-felt speech which stated he must be a nice guy if he treats me like a queen.

"maybe he isn't to you," i scoffed at his petty and childish comments, "but that's because you told him that you'd snatch me from him one day and that you'd laugh in his face once you did."

"i was drunk! it was a joke. jesus, cal!" he laughed menacingly. the look on his face was no longer woeful but now slightly enraged.

"there's no point getting angry at me. between the two of us here i'm not the dick — you are. i thought we could work something out but just go," i sighed as i was morose and couldn't bear to get into another argument with him. i could see any signs of that previous relief patter out and gloominess replaced it. i didn't wish to hurt his feelings anymore. it's like a chunk of my goodness is removed every time i do.

"okay look," he grabbed me, "i'm sorry for shouting before and i'm sorry for what i said last night," he stared at me with doe eyes. his quiff sort of hung as did his general mood which made me feel for him even more. "if you want me to be more like evan i can try — i can be that predictable, squeaky clean, angelic boyfriend that you need. i won't raise my voice anymore, i won't hurt your emotions. come on, cali? it can be like the old days. i'll take you to hyde park like we used to and we can gaze at the few stars in the sky. i'll be old grayson, not ill-tempered grayson."

i looked at him trying to study his face to find out whether he has any intentions of actually being the missing piece in my life puzzle.

"just give me a week?"