Illusion

Chapter 29

Avery's POV

It's been three days since I've seen Harry. Three days since the ball. Three days since the kiss.

I still don't know what came over me, only that I needed to hide and, well, Harry's lips were there...

And then how he opened up to me later. It may not have been much, a few simple words. But I could tell just by looking into his green eyes that he'd revealed something he'd probably never spoken out loud before. And that means something to me, maybe slightly more than I'd like to admit to myself.

He'd sparked a silent proposal. An unspoken question lingering on his lips. Do you dare?

I think he wants me to trust him. I can tell he gets frustrated when I don't talk or I hide my feelings. But I meant what I said when I told him I can't face losing another person who knows me. I can't allow myself to place such trust in someone, especially someone so unpredictable.

But strangely, I just know Harry wouldn't judge me if I opened up to him. And, I don't know if this is good or bad, but I have a feeling that if I begin talking, I won't be able to stop.

So when I responded to his words with my own, curiously having almost the exact same things to say, I wasn't surprised when I had to bite my tongue, forcing myself not to say more.

It felt so... nice, to admit those things. Seemingly meaningless as they are. But they're not. And I think Harry could tell.

I still don't understand why him pressuring me to talk felt so, ugh, how do I describe it. Sickening. Liberating. A feeling like I couldn't breath, my stomach in knots with itself until I finally spoke. Finally just giving it and letting my emotions wash over me.

I may have only allowed him a peak at my inner turmoil, but it still felt so good to just say what I was thinking and feeling.

My feet slope up my apartment steps, the chilly evening breeze making me shiver. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, focusing on opening the door to my apartment building, my body exhausted from work. I have to deal with some really shitty customers sometimes.

Right as I'm about to push the wood ajar, a hand grips my wrist. I gasp suddenly, spinning on the spot, my heart beating erratically.

My eyes go wide as I'm met with a cold brown gaze, light brown hair brushing over his forehead, lips flat in a line.

I swallow thickly, trying to get air back into my lungs as I take in his form.

'So you're just ignoring me now?' His voice is soft, but I can hear the threat behind his words, his eyes narrowing minutely.

'Tristan, what are you doing here?' My throat is tight, but I force my words out, needing to understand why he's just shown up all of a sudden.

'I've been calling. Why haven't you answered.' His voice feigns a questioning tone, but I don't miss the way his fist clenches at his side, the vein in his temple straining heavily.

It's true. I haven't answered his calls. In fact, I haven't even spoken to him since I brushed off his advance a couple of weeks ago after seeing Harry, lying that I needed to get home quickly.

'Tristan, I don't know what you want from me. You broke up with me.' I'm trying hard not to anger him, only saying things that I think will make him leave faster.

He scowls at my comment, his grip tightens on my wrist and I wince from the pressure, feeling my breathing pick up.

'You know what I did was for your own good. You're just being stubborn. But you've learnt your lesson now, so come back to me.' His voice picks up at the end, a fake pout being placed strategically on his lips.