A Flame From The Past

49: Friends Pt.2

I groaned into his chest as he did too, our hands finding comfort within each other, comfort I knew was wrong, comfort I knew I especially didn't deserve. I pulled away from him, his lips teasing into a smirk as he followed me inside. He shouldn't have come, he shouldn't be here right now.

"You're regretting me coming, aren't you?" He asked, his voice teasing me as I nodded my head, unsure of what to say, how to fake my finest look on my face. I needed to appear fine, great, good but I made a promise a long time ago, one I hoped we would both honor that we wouldn't lie to each other.

I stopped listening to that nagging voice in my head as he moved towards my head, his hands landing on my chin as I backed against the wall.

"I'm just here as your friend... tonight... but say the words and I can be so much more". He cursed, I cursed along with him as I listened to his words, the air closing in on me as I fought for air, fought to breathe clearly again. But he never let me go, not that I was resisting his gaze, his touch. I had been in so much pain, that I had ignored the man in front of me, his feelings, his life.

What did he want from all of this?

My words were cursed, not a single coherent word flew from my mouth as he spoke, his voice cursing me over and over again. I found my opening as I walked towards the couch taking a seat on my formal bed, as he sat down next to me.

"Is everyone sleeping?" He asked, as if he was about to kidnap me himself, and take me away.

"Everyone's sleeping". I laid down on the plush couch, finding comfort in the man beside me. I shouldn't have, but I found myself leaning on his shoulder.

"I really wanted to get drunk tonight". I groaned and he looked down almost as if he wondered if it was me, who was talking. "You... getting drunk?" He asked.  But it made sense. I had been afraid to get drunk my whole life, my father scared me, the way he got violent, he became angry, he became physical so quickly. But like everything comes back to Luca, he helped me realize it wasn't like that. Alcohol doesn't make you violent, my father was an angry person, so angry the alcohol brought it out for him.

"I don't mind when it's not in a public place, where I know I'm safe". I told him as he seemed to believe that time would never come, where I would let myself get drunk. He knew my fear, but he never pushed me, he never pushed me further.

"I thought you were a good girl... no alcohol". He said, leering his eyes, smirking as he smiled.

"I love vodka".

"You're a vodka girl?" He asked, his eyebrow raised.

"And a Shirley temple girl". I added as he smiled. "I have a bottle of grenadine in my cupboard at all times". His laugh was husky, as I inhaled his scent. I loved everything about him, as his head laid on the cushion for the couch, his eyes lazily looking over at me.

"I didn't know you had a passion for cherries". He said, his voice bringing me back to our past, our thoughts as he whimpered. He saw the flash between us as well, he felt it too. The questions looming of what were we doing here?

"Well... now you know". I said, my voice cursing to be opened as I closed my lips quickly, feeling the tension rise in the room as my eyes stayed pinned on the reality tv show playing out on tv. But I felt his looming glare, his needed glare as his eyes rose to my eyes, then down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. He knew I saw him. He knew.

We needed to talk about something safe, something safely away from the context of us, anything that could be drawn back to us was trouble. But how was I supposed to manage that when everything reminded me of him, every single thing reminded me of him, that's how I knew I was in trouble, even before he had sat down on the couch.