Screw you, Riley. Leah has been repeating the same thing in her head since she and Chris left the restaurant. This week is just not working for her.
Chris waits behind her patiently, quietly. He watches her struggle to unlock the door, mouth twitching just a bit in attempt to hold his smile as she grows more and more aggravated with the key, or the lock, or both. "Leah, maybe you should let me--"
"I've got it," she says, her tone cold. FInally, she jams the key into the lock and opens the door, swearing under her breath and dropping her jacket, purse, and scarf on the floor. Any time she'll be spending with Chris here will now be slightly uncomfortable.
"Leah, why are you making this such a big deal? I'm not gonna kill you over it. So what if you like me?"
"I don't like you!" she snaps, tired of hearing it so often. "That was her opinion. She decided to say that. But I don't like you. Maybe we have some kind of friendship or soemthing developing, but that is the only way I'll like you."
"Why would she just say that out of nowhere? You had to have been talking about it before that."
She swallows down her anger. Don't yell at him, I think. Remember what happened last time you pushed him. She just shakes her head. "Okay, we might have discussed it for a little while in the restaurant. You went to the bathroom, and...Riley just brought it up." After I mentioned how you've somehow not only moved into my apartment but my mind as well. She's tempted to say that, or something like that. She doesn't like lying, no matter how big or little the lie is. "You know what? I don't have time for this. I have a...story to work on." She walks away, heading for her bedroom.
"Just forget it happened," Chris says. "It was never said. We just had lunch, had a good time, and left. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure." She quickly closes the door, then presses her back to it. She stares into her dark room, thinking this through.
I don't like him, she thinks. Do I? I mean, he is cute, and Riley wasn't exactly wrong in pointing out my favorite qualities. But...come on. He's a criminal, for God's sake. He's dangerous. I mean, he could've killed me the last time. Even if I did like him, I couldn't be with him. Besides, I bet he doesn't even like me like that. He hates me. I know that for a fact. There's no way he'd take a chance with me. Plus, he's messy, and rude, and mean, and intimidating...and strong...and artistic...and very handsome....
She hits her palm to her head as her thoughts take a turn for the worst. She pushes herself off the door and heads for her night table. She turns on the lamp. She turns, her back facing the bed, and falls backward onto the bed. She lets out a heavy sigh as her stressed body adjusts to the comfort. She stays that way, silent and still, for about an hour. She takes in the comfort that she wishes would swallow her up and spit her out again, erasing every memory that haunts her mind. Her eyes grow heavier as every minute passes, and she eventually slips away into the world of extreme fantasy: her dream.
She walks down a dark alley...dark is too calm a word. Pitch black. She's walking through the pitch black alley, no purse or jacket or anything but clothes. She watches the ground as she walks, too afraid to look up and perhaps find something frightening.
She's halfway through when she realizes how ridiculous she's being. She looks up with whatever confidence she has, and something suddenly strikes her across the face. She falls sideways to the ground, holding her hands out for support. She covers her throbbing cheek, looking around frantically for what it was. Finally, she sees a figure emerge from the darkness, tall and well-built in the clear image. She sees the face and immediately recognizes who it was.
"Chris?" she whispers.
He grabs her by the hair and yanks her up to her feet.
She grips the sides of her head as if her hair will rip right out of it. She squeezes her eyes shut from the pain.
He grabs her by the throat and pushes her back into the brick wall. He tightens his grip and hits her once on the side with his fist.
She tries to yell, but his hand is too tight. She is, however, miraculously getting air in and out of her lungs perfectly. She opens her eyes and stares right into his. She doesn't struggle against the pain. She just slides her hands up his muscular arm and to his neck. She slips her fingers into his hair and pulls him to her, mashing her lips against his.
He kisses her back, running one hand through her hair. He pulls her closer to him.
She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, and when he lets her in, he grips her throat again and throws her to the other side of the alley. She hits the ground hard, her cheek pressed against it. Before he returns, she pushes herself up to stand quickly.
He comes at her, fist raised and ready to strike again.
She throws herself at him before he has a chance to hit her. She mashes their lips together again, and, this time, he wraps his arms around her. Their lips and tongues are tangled in a passionate mess, holding onto each other like they're the only ones left in their lives.
He pulls his lips away, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "I want to change," he says, his voice a bit shaky.
"I know," she replies.
He grabs her jaw. "You don't understand--"
She gently places her hand on it, and it releases her quickly. She pulls it away from her face. She kisses him once again, a deep but sweet kiss. She feels his hand move up into the air, and...
As soon as she feels a strong blow to the head, Leah wakes up with a jolt. She breathes heavily into the empty space above her, the pressure-like feeling of her pain in the dream still lingering. She sits up quickly when she sees her breathing isn't improving. She takes deep, slow breaths, calming herself down. She looks down and realizes she's still in her daytime clothing. She stands up and moves to the dresser.
When she finishes changing into her pajamas, she moves to the door. She very quietly opens it, and spots Chris on the couch. Snores fill the room, trying to blend into the sounds of The Expendables on the television.
She closes the door and returns to her bed. She slips underneath the covers and turns the light off. She thinks about the dream one last time,. Then she takes a relaxing breath and closes her eyes, hoping that confusing and disturbing drean doesn't decide to continue.
