A Gun To My Heart

28

"Good morning, beautiful."
His blue lounge jacket is now on the floor. I suppose he took it off because it was uncomfortable.

"How long have you been awake?"
I push my face into his chest, not wanting the lights to meet my eyes.
"I don't know." His heart is calmly beating inside his chest.

"What's the time," I mumble quietly and still tired of everything. Her plan hasn't magically vanished from my head- even though I hoped it would.

'Hope could kill.'

"Why are you always asking that question?"
I lift my head, meeting his eyes as my hair falls in front of my face. His mouth is formed into a cute smile.
"Time is important."

I leave the bed, going into my closet, looking at every dress you can imagine. Some long, others short with rhinestones placed perfectly on the sleeves or torso. Each one is sewn with perfection. I wonder who made these. What their history is. How they are as a person.

"We skipped breakfast."

I turn around as fast as I can, probably cracking my back in the process.
"What?"

"It's okay though, " he says as he shrugs. I press on my temples and wander back and forth in the bedroom.
"No, it's not."

He remains silent.

"Aries. What will they think when both of us don't show up for breakfast?"
Now he's sitting there grinning, and I throw the first thing I see at him. A red slipper flies in the air only to be caught in his hands. The color sends her plan, once again, speeding across my mind.

Shortly after, I snap.

"What will Azia think? And who the hell is Azia?" I sit at the edge of the bed, staring at the pretty ceiling canopy. He never told me about her.

Not that he had to. But he could've at least told me something.
It would be nice to know.

"She's just an old friend."
I drag one of his socks off, and he looks at me like I'm an oddball. My lips press together trying to hold in a chuckle caused by seeing his facial expression.

"Did you two have something special together?" The sock falls to the floor as I continue to search for a comfortable dress in my tall closet. The doors are covered by handpainted details. The beautiful gold-colored paint makes it look expensive.

He hesitates before answering, which is enough for me to let my thoughts wander. "How long ago, " I ask him before he can answer the previous question.

My fingers land on a flowy dress just like the one I have on now. I pull it out of the closet closely eyeing the details. It has a V-neck with small rhinestones at the edge of the flowy sleeves.

"It was around two years ago." I walk into the bathroom. Closing the door, slipping out of my dress, and hang the new one in the air before I step into the shower.

"Then, why does she still like you?" I shout as I turn on the water. The air gets damp and the warm water hits my body. I wash my hair, not getting an answer.

I scrub the soap on my skin, throwing a sharp glance at it. There are no longer purple-blue bruises on it. Something I'm appreciative of. I remember how I would do anything to keep her hands away from me.

My feet are stepping onto the cold marble floor and I pick up the towel, drying my body.
"She does?" He asks me, and I scoff as I step into the lilac dress.

"Didn't you see how she reacted when you held my hand?"
It was so obvious.
Her facial expression, the red blush spreading across her face. How she hid her hands when his touched mine. When she tilted her head down, ripping her eyes away.

I open the door, still facing him, but being able to see him through the big, square-shaped mirror. The electric brush gently brushes through my hair while I'm brushing my teeth.
"No, because I was focused on you." His brows furrow in confusion.

The brush drops back into the drawer, switching place with the hairdryer. It turns on and starts to dry my hair with hot air coming from it.
My eyes watch him sitting confused in the bed, as the loud sound from the hairdryer drowns out every other sound.

Just now, I realize he has the same terrible habit of picking on his fingers. It reminds me of Lucas and his poor teared-up hands. The same hands washing dishes and cleaning after us. Letting soap soak into his small cuts and wounds.

How did they know someone was coming? Suddenly everyone reacted to something not even I could see or hear.
The hairdryer stops, hovering back into the drawer to its previous place, and the drawer slowly closes itself.

I walk out of the bathroom closing the door, and sit down at my desk looking at the flowers growing on it. "We had a fling two years ago in the summer, but that was it. I stopped it, and now we're just friends. Nothing more."

He picks up the sock from the floor and puts it on again. A knock on the door steals both of our attention.
"Come in."

Two maids come in with plates of food in their hands. I look at mine as she puts it on my desk carefully. "Thank you, " I say as I notice another small piece of paper placed beside my glass.

I hope you at least talked about it.
-Alora

The impulse to sneer is big. I hastily grasp the paper note and rip it apart before throwing it in the small trash bin on the floor.
"What was that?" he asks while the maids are leaving the room. One of them looks at me again, glancing at me closely before shutting the door.

"Nothing."
He contemplates if he should ask again, but decides to don't do it. We eat in silence. By now he should know that the short word is a plain lie.

She's ridiculous. Her whole attitude is ridiculous. She keeps trying to press the pathetic task down my throat every single minute she can. Believing it will help her. Something it won't.

The only thing it does is shred my mind apart even further. Though, maybe that's what she wants to happen, too.