Her Secrets

71

|Athena's POV|

I was on my way back to my house with Sean beside me, in the backseat of his car. We landed in America just fifteen minutes ago and have been in the car ever since. The ride there was silent, a feeling of discomfort lingering between us for some reason.

I didn't know what caused it although I had some ideas. Maybe it was the few things that happened between us in France then London— those amazing moments we shared. Moments I hoped lasted longer. Damn it. I didn't wanna leave him— but I had to.

Three months. I've stayed with him for that much time and I loved it. Every single moment. I did not know how he felt about those but I did. And I wanted that. I've always thought that I didn't need anyone, that I was fine on my own. That I didn't need anyone to love me, show me affection and all that shit but I was wrong. Meeting Sean changed that. Now I craved those. I wanted someone to love me. I wanted that someone to be him.

The whole thing was actually kinda funny. I realised that I loved every single thing about him; especially the way he'd make fun of serious things to lighten the mood, the seriousness of the situation although it would hardly work.

Last night we ended up watching three movies until I finally fell asleep. I don't know what happened after that but when I woke up, he was still there and we were cuddling again. That was actually the second time I woke up like that. I loved that too, by the way.

Fuck was wrong with me?

"What about Thea?" Sean's voice snapped me back from my thoughts. I looked at him only to find him playing with his rings on his fingers, not looking at me while he asked, "when am I going to see her?"

Right. Thea— I forgot about her. I already made the necessary arrangements for her to return to America. She was supposed to be there by next week since I wanted to make sure that it was completely safe first.

"Next week," I responded making him finally look at me. His grey eyes held a certain distant look as he muttered a small, "all right", before flickering his eyes to his hands again. After a few seconds, he let out a huff before he leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, a frown on his lips and his brows furrowed.

"Is something wrong?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Is your wound hurting? Did you take your—" He cut me off, "— I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," I stated, narrowing my eyes at him while he kept his eyes closed. "You're not having a fever, are you? Maybe I didn't clean up your wound well and you got an inf—"

"—We're here," I was cut off by the driver who stopped the car and announced. I looked out and saw the familiar gates of my house.

Great. I didn't wanna leave this car.

"I'm gonna get inside with you," Sean said as I was about to open the door, making me halt in my movement. I turned my head slightly, "what? Why?"

"Because..." He trailed off, his hand going to the side of his door handle, "it's not really safe for you to go in there alone."

"If you say so," I muttered, finally opening my door and stepped out. I walked to the back of the car and opened the boot. I was about to take out my suitcase when a hand reached out and grabbed it before I could. I looked at Sean who effortlessly lifted it and placed it on the ground. "You absolute idiot— you're hurt!"

"In a hand. Not both. And besides what kind of guy allows a woman to take out her own shit?" When I didn't reply, he raised his brows as if he just proved a point, "exactly. But that sounded better in my head though." Without waiting for me to say anything, he began walking in the direction of the door.

Smiling slightly, I followed him and opened the door for us to enter. Once we were both in, he let go of the suitcase and allowed his eyes to rake around the familiar interior, taking in the surroundings as he ‘made sure’ it was ‘safe’. Somehow I knew that it was just some lame excuse to get in with me. But of course, I said nothing.

"See, it's safe. You can g—" he cut me off by walking further inside, towards the kitchen saying something along the lines of, "I need to drink some water."

I frowned. Okay. Why was he acting so weird?

Following him to the kitchen, I watched as he grabbed an empty glass, filled it with tap water and drank it at one go. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," he placed the glass on the table, not looking at me again, "I'm fine."

"No you're not," I rolled my eyes, frowning, "did I do something? You're acting as if I killed your cat."

"I never had a cat— and no you didn't do anything." He pursed his lips in a thin line, exhaling sharply as he leaned against the counter. "Fuck, I hate this."

"You hate what?"

"This," he repeated, lowering his gaze to the floor, "fuck this shit—" he muttered, "I don't wanna part ways with you." There was a moment of silence from both our sides as I allowed his words to register in my head. For real? Was he shitting me?

"I can't even look at you without feeling this huge urge to kiss the living hell out of you—" he continued, letting out a small humourless chuckle, shaking his head as if the idea was absurd, "I think there's something wrong with me."

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AN:
Shit’s about to get real.