Damaged

36 | confide

I woke up with his eyes on me. Time was had become incorporeal; it might've been ten minutes or two hours since I fell asleep, and I didn't care. Laying down on a bed next to Alex was where I'd chose to spend eternity.  

"Hey," He says, the smile spreading over his lips and tilting them heavenwards.

"Hey, stranger," I grin lazily. I crawl over to him and lay on top of his chest, feeling his skin against my own. The heat emanating from him was comforting and I listened to his deep breaths as my head rested near his collarbone, "For how long was I asleep?"

"About an hour," He replies. His hand starts playing with my hair, the touch of his fingers soft and gentle as if he was afraid he'd break me. I closed my eyes for a second, cherishing the feeling of his long fingers against my scalp, positive that if heaven existed this was it. 

"I love your hair. I've never seen darker hair than yours. It was one of the first things I noticed about you," He whispered, and I looked into his eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes. That and your eyes. You have the most soulful eyes. They tell stories without words, they're unimaginably expressive and fierce,  even when you try to remain neutral."

"Your eyes change when you're angry or lustful, did you know that? They become dark green and wild. It took me a while to get used to that; it used to take my breath away." I admit and he raises an eyebrow. 

"Only for you, baby." He grins and kisses my forehead. I feel butterflies on my stomach when I feel his lips against my skin, cherishing this softer side of him. 

"I want to know you better." 

"Ask away. I'm yours,"  Alex replies and I feel my cheeks heating up.

"You're cute when you blush because of me," His grin is cheeky, a dimple appearing near to his lips and I feel myself getting redder.

"Shut up. Okay. Do you have siblings?" 

"Yes. An older brother named Charles and a baby sister, Violet." He says and I nod. He has a whole life I don't know about in England, a life and people that he left behind when he came here. 

"Do you miss them?" 

He deliberates for a moment before replying, "Sometimes. I was very close to Violet when we were growing up - she's four years younger than me and I always felt the need to act like a protective big brother to her. Charles is... Complicated. He's a carbon copy of my dad and follows his every wish and command. Most times I'm glad I left and had a fresh start."

"I get it," I said, and tried not to comment about his father, knowing that the subject upset him, "Why did you move to Westchester though? New York is everyone's dream." 

"I don't know. The job at the high school was good, so I guess I accepted it without much thought because of how prestigious it is. Also, New York is half an hour away. It's not that bad." He replied. 

"At least you've got your friend Chris." 

"Yeah. I grew up with him, and he came here for uni and never left. It was good knowing someone when I first moved."

"I wish I'd met you when you first arrived." 

"It would have killed me to refrain from touching you." He said, voice gruff. 

"You wouldn't have liked the person I was back then, though," I whispered and stared through the window at the night beyond, frowning at the thought. He would have hated me. I was a princess, a bitch, the girl that controlled the high school with cigarette smoke, perfume, and power. I thought I was superior to everyone and it showed. All the parties and drugs and money created an untouchable barrier around me, and nobody dared break it down. I didn't want them to break it down, to get to me; I relished the loneliness and the security it brought me.