Deconstructing Bridges

Chapter Twenty-One

Rose turned onto her back, cursing in annoyance as she looked over at the clock. It was past midnight, and still she had not slept.

After ignoring him for the remainder of the afternoon, she had wandered into the living area in the evening to find he had reheated the stew from the previous night, a bowl waiting on the table.

She'd eaten in silence, grudgingly admitting she was glad he'd thought to get her to cook this. There weren't many dishes a teenager enjoyed cooking, but she had loved this so much she had always helped out in the kitchen when her mother made this. It had turned out well, just the right amount of spice. After eating, she had paused, wondering if she was brave enough to speak to him and say what was bothering her, but quickly losing her nerve she had rushed back to bed.

And now she couldn't sleep.

Restless, she decided to try and exhaust herself with some television and tiptoed outside. A faint noise caught her attention and she realised the television was already on. And someone was already watching it.

Matthew sat on the couch, lit only by the bluish hue from the flickering screen, yet she could see that his gaze was fixed upon her. He looked at her somewhat sadly, and she felt herself stumbling towards him.

He was all she had left, and she didn't even have him, not really. Her time left with him was finite, even if they hadn't spoken about the future. The kindest thing to do would be to stay far away, and yet she couldn't. The previous night had only whet her appetite for his closeness.

She hadn't exactly been fair to the man. She knew that. His behaviour hadn't been one of a schemer - she should know. Whatever his motivation, he was not the kind of person to seduce secrets out of someone. She hadn't been fair. Hey, what else was new?

She sat beside him, pretending for a moment to watch the soccer match before turning her head towards him. He watched her warily, and she sighed, wriggling closer to him until she could rest her head against his shoulder. She felt the give in his body, as though he had just let out a breath, she felt his cheek on top of her head and she allowed her hand to softly stroke his forearm.

You're such a bitch, she cursed herself.

"You weren't just screwing me to soften me for information last night, were you?"

She heard his breath draw in sharply at her question, and he jerked away just far enough to face her properly, his hands holding her still as he peered into her face.

"That's what you thought?"

Rose bit her lip, and his expression softened.

"Baby... Did you really think that I would sleep with you for your confessions?"

Honestly... no. I was just afraid to trust you. I still am.

She shook her head and reached for him, snuggling closer again, her head turned sideways against his chest. In a familiar pose, she lifted her legs to lie across his lap and his hand grasped them in habit, his fingers caressing the bare skin. They remained like that for a time. Someone scored a goal, but she didn't honestly know who.

I miss this. I'm not meant to miss this.

Why are you fighting this when you both clearly want it?

She scooted to sit properly on his lap, her hands curling over the end strands of his hair, her face a breath from his.

"Tell me why you organised that meeting while I slept and before I could change my mind?"

His hand came to her neck, squeezing as he forced her to keep her gaze on him while he spoke. Earnestness shone from his face.

"I need this thing over. I assumed you'd understand. I don't want all our time together tainted by him. I need him off the street, and I need all this out of your life."