I'll Take You Away From Him

Chapter 8

Holding my breath for a moment, I tightly close my eyes. Of course, there’s no point in hoping. In a second, I realize who exactly caught me in the act. I feel both embarrassed and scared. I have no idea what to expect from him for such a prank.

“Seems like your condition has already improved,” I hear a steel voice above me.

And in a moment, I find myself facing the man. He turned me around like a doll and looked at me with an inscrutable gaze, holding my forearms.

We’ve never been this close before, so I didn’t have the chance to fully appreciate either his appearance or my reaction to Christopher. But now I can. And the conclusion isn’t the best — I’m scared of him to bits!

Well, outwardly he’s a very attractive man; there’s nothing to criticize. Light hair, blue eyes, a toned body, muscles that are prominent, pleasant smelling and smoothly shaven. Clearly, he pays attention to his appearance.

But his gaze…

I hide my eyes, unsure of what to say, nervously biting my lips and dreaming of only one thing — for him to step back at least a few inches and, of course, to remove his hands from me.

“Oh my God, Aurelia, what are you doing?” In addition to this already terrible situation, my mother appears on the horizon.

She claps her hands, but in the presence of my "fiancé," she talks to me in a completely different tone, not as harsh as when it’s just us.

“Chris, I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Aurelia has always been a good girl! She must have gotten flustered. But I’m sure she won’t do anything like this again and will apologize right away. Isn’t that right, Aurelia?” my mother asks insistently.

I remain silent. I look away. I think about what Will is waiting for me, and that my chances of getting out of the house are now equal to zero.

He’s unlikely to invite me anywhere again after this. He’s an adult man; why would he want a problematic girl who at her twenties can’t even leave the house without permission? Not to mention everything else…

“Aurelia,” my mother grits her teeth, losing her patience. “Did you swallow your tongue or what?”

I flinch at her tone. And to my utter shock, I feel Christopher’s hands on my forearms move, sliding across my skin almost… soothingly. After which he releases me and steps back a pace.

“Let her go,” I hear and can’t believe my ears. I raise a stunned gaze at him, wondering if he’s serious or if this is some kind of joke?

“But… Chris…” my mother says in confusion.

“Let her go. I’m not going to force her,” he states firmly.

Not waiting any other second, I spring from my spot and dash for the exit. I hear my mother trying to persuade Christopher, attempting to convey something to him about how I just got scared, and at my age, a firm hand and a harsh tone are necessary.

His response remains a mystery to me, as they move out of earshot. I run as fast as I can, not knowing if I’m escaping from there, realizing that my mother won’t let this go easily, or because I’m scared — Will probably won’t wait.

I know it’s said that a girl should be fifteen minutes late for a date. Who decided that and why — I have no idea. I hate being late. And I believe that a date shouldn’t be an exception. It’s disrespectful to make someone wait.

Especially if the person is pleasant to you…

I would be anxious and torture myself with doubts if Will were late. So why should I make him go through this? Or am I just imagining things, and he actually doesn’t care?

Whether I’m late or don’t show up at all — he’ll find someone else, and by morning, he won’t even remember me. It might seem to me that he likes me just as much as I like him. I can hope and present my wishes as reality.

And in reality, I’m really afraid he won’t wait.

The last few dozen meters, I run almost blindly, as tears blur my vision, which I can no longer hold back. I can’t distinguish the road, just outlines: a familiar car, a silhouette nearby… Into which I practically crash, feeling such longed-for arms around me in a moment.

These embraces, in contrast, bring relief, offering a feeling of calm and security. I breathe in his scent with full lungs, absorbing it with every cell. As if in a cocoon, in his arms, I cling with all my might, hugging Will around his back.

He waited for me.

“Hey, what happened?” I hear above me. And his voice is soothing, low, deep, touching something inside me, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. “Did someone hurt you?”

Touching my chin, Will makes me slightly pull away and look at him. I shake my head at his question. I simply gaze into his eyes, trying to suppress the pain that tears me apart from the inside.

I swat away the guilt like annoying flies. I didn’t promise anyone anything, and I really hope that after today’s incident, Christopher understood that I don’t want to marry him and will give up on that idea.

“Why are you crying then if no one hurt you?” he frowns, examining my probably flushed face.

I’ve practically calmed down already, although I still tremble a little and sigh convulsively. I don’t know what to say. And I lose myself even more when the man slowly drags his thumb across my cheek from one side, then from the other, wiping away my tears.

After studying my face with an attentive gaze, he stopped it at my trembling lips. He leans forward but halts a few centimeters away, hesitating. And I’m frozen.

Although I really want him to do it, to kiss me, I can’t move a muscle. I can only breathe loudly, studying his face and noting that now he seems even more handsome to me than during our last meeting.

He’s not similar to Christopher at all. Dark hair, brown eyes, a scruffy stubble that suits him perfectly… The only similarity is in their build — both are burly men.

“So who hurt you?” he asks again.

“No one. Just girl stuff, that’s why I cried. I won’t again.”

His finger moves to my lips. I sharply inhaled because of how unexpected and pleasant that felt.

My skin tingles, everything inside sweetly trembles, I feel the warmth of his body through my clothes, pressed against him so tightly by his own arm. And I don’t want this moment to ever end.

“Aurelia, Aurelia,” he breathes against my lips. “I hope you really won’t anymore. At least today, next to me — for sure.”

And then he covers my lips with that much-desired kiss.