Dahlia has lived in our universe as an immortal for centuries. She has a soft spot for this universe - all the good and all the bad - and has made the best of an admittedly bad situation. Her universe? It...went through some things, but who cares, w...
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SHE WASN'T ASLEEP.
Maybe I was being a complete creep by listening at her door, but when I heard the shuffle of her footsteps – to the bathroom, I imagined – I rapped on the door a few times before pushing it open.
It was unlocked, and I felt the slightest sense of relief that she didn't feel the need to lock her door. Lock us out. Lock me out.
"What do you want?" she demanded from me, standing beside the bed.
She was wrapped in a white, fluffy towel, and her hair hung past her shoulders in sopping wet ringlets. There was a pair of white cotton pajamas – no doubt courtesy of Marcus's thorough preparations– set at the foot of the bed. I stared too long, probably made her feel uncomfortable, but Simone had no idea how much she looked like her aunt. It was uncanny. Disturbing.
"I don't want to leave things the way we left them downstairs," I said, wringing my hands. I felt hot behind my neck. Unsure of myself. It felt like picking the wrong words would place me on a landmine, but that no matter what I said, the words would always be wrong.
Simone didn't mask the hostility on her face. If looks could kill... "Oh, you don't want to, huh?" She huffed out a loud breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "You know what?" she said, her eyes snapping open. "I don't want to do this. I'm over it. I'm a fucking adult. Do you mind leaving so that I can get dressed?"
I was nodding, but I was frozen in place. It was like I had just waded into a pool of wet cement, unable to move a muscle. Or, more accurately, Simone's anger and hatred had seared me to the spot. I could practically see the steam leaving her ears, and it wasn't fucking fair that all of her anger was solely directed at me when she didn't even know the circumstances. What if Marcus had made me give her up? She didn't know for a fact that he hadn't, but I got the distinct feeling that if he were standing here instead of me, he wouldn't be facing her wrath the way I was. It was as if he were completely absolved of everything, simply because he was the one who'd sought her out.
I took a deep breath. "It's just... I don't know what to say to make things better. I don't know if I even can. But I want to, Simone. Please believe me when I say that I want to."
She pulled her damp hair into a ponytail, silent. Why had she had to ask that specific question? Everything had been a semblance of okay before that. Before she'd wanted to know why.
"In my world, I have the ability to take someone else's pain and make it my own." My eyes were on my sock-covered feet just then. When I looked up, Simone's heated gaze was on me. "I do wish that I could take your pain away right now, Simone. I really do."
If I could just do that, perhaps we would end up with a nice, neat, cordial relationship.
She let out a derisive snort. And then, "What do you want from me?"
