The Darkest Swan

Chapter 8

-𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮-

"We have to stop meeting like this." Christan says, lingering by the doorway in the studio.

I'm warming up my legs on the bar, I don't need to turn around to see him. He's behind me in the mirror, just stalking me casually. I would tell him to go away if I was a mean person. I could always get one of those handy dandy restraining orders against him. That would probably do the trick. But then again he's relentless.

"We really do." I say unenthusiastically, glowering at him in the mirror. It's purposeful. If he didn't want to keep meeting like this then he wouldn't show up at that dang door every other night. He could've gotten his muffin from the vending machine and gone back to his hole.

He's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His abs practically break out of the outfit. His hair is always more unkempt in the later hours of the night, I almost prefer it like that. He looks like he's just gotten out of bed. The things I would do if he wasn't my teacher.

His hands hold two blueberry muffins and from my view of the mirror, I can see him set one of the muffins on the bench next to the door. This better not become a tradition.

"It was a really good lesson in class today." I say shyly. "I mean, considering..."

He chuckles. "Considering?" He questions.

"Considering you're a menace to society." I finish.

"I knew you would never give me a complement." He laughs. "Is that how little you think of me?" He's smiling now. I can only focus on his dimples. What was the question again?

"In simple terms, yes. But if you want me to go in-depth, I'd be more than willing." I say as I saunter over to the blueberry muffin.

"I'm beginning to think our mutual respect for one another isn't so mutual." He remarks. And I'm beginning to like this game of ours.

"Any respect I had for you was gone the moment you aired out your preconceived assumptions about me, Mr. Storm."

"Don't judge a book by its cover." He says to himself.

"Now you're getting somewhere."

"Maybe there will be some character development for me after all." He says.

"You're too far gone, I'm afraid."

"Bring me back from the depths of despair, I beg of you, Swan." He begs. 

I laugh for the first time today. He smiles. I don't like the idea of him making me laugh. It makes me feel dirty and not in a good way.

"I better get back. Paperwork doesn't do itself." He says aggrieved and obviously tired.

"Thanks for the muffin."

"Thanks for the company." He says before leaving the studio.

I laugh to myself once he's gone. The muffin he left me lies in my hands. I simply stare at it for a while, then I decide to unwrap it before I can read the carbs on the side of it. The plastic is crumpled in my hands. It's not just a blueberry muffin. It's a blueberry muffin he gave to me. That makes me want to throw it away. It also makes me want to eat it. I laugh again at my thought process. Because the muffin is him. The muffin is a metaphor. The muffin is forbidden, it's a high fructose corn syrup mess. The muffin makes me angry. The muffin makes me want to swallow it whole.

How could a muffin make me feel all this you ask? Well when you haven't had anything pertaining to bread in the last two weeks, you get a little desperate for a tiny taste of what you can't have.

Christan Storm is what I can't have. And that only makes me want him more.