A Night To Taste

Chapter 15: Katerine

Never thought the golden three words for me would rather than being 'I Love You,' are 'I Am Sorry.'

Me an Nate have been staring at the rose and the letter on the ground. Sitting on the floor. Legs crisscrossed. Hands on knees. Eyes widened. Brains empty. And souls in pure disbelief.

Its been approximate half an hour and none of us have uttered a word. Time to break the silence.

I clear my throat. "Do you have anything to say?"

"Uhmm. No."

Well. Then.

"Uhmm. Nate, listen. Maybe you should go. I can handle all this on my own. By the way, Dad told me Uncle is ill. You must have to pay a visit to them. I am all okay."

"NOOO Way. How can you think I will leave you alone? Huh? You have been getting yourself stuck in dangerous situations. First the club. Then you were screaming yesterday. Now this. No. I will NOT." She firmly orders me.

But its better if she stays away from all this. After what I have in my mind, she should definitely stay away from this drama.

"I am all okay. And you should seriously go to meet him. He needs you more than me. And oh! Don't forget to bring snickers."

She scoffs. "Although I really don't want to leave you here but if you say so- I will. Just make sure if you want anything, don't hesitate to call me. Fine?"

"Fine. Now go. I will just surf some internet and see what this new problem called Sanchez is."

That earns a chuckle from her. "Hey. Don't say it. He will send deadly dogs to chase you if you badmouth about him. You know. Just CEO things. Working in Sanchez Security takes a lot of work by the way."

"I know. I know. And If he sends dogs after me then I have someone to chase him." I wink at her.

"Who?" She widens her eyes. 

"Someone you don't know. Don't worry its nothing personal. Just a friend of mine."

Well. Not my friend. Actually mom's son. Psychopath son. I have never met him but I am sure if I tell Ava to do something about this Mr. Sanchez then he would be dead by next day.

"Okay, bye then. Take care." She kisses my cheek and walk towards the guest room to pack her things. Its guest room but it has been permanently allotted to her. But as she has a month's leave, she may stay with her parents. I will be alone by that time.

After an hour she leaves.

Now I can do what I have been thinking.

I go back to my room, pick up the letter and rose, and lay down on bed. Blanket can be forgotten for a day.

I adore the rose in my hand. Everyone's boyfriend gives them red roses. My man gave me a black one. I bring the rose and letter close to my nose and inhale it. I love this scent. Never was a fan of flowers but now I know, roses are my favorite. The black ones only.

I fiddle with letter. Oh! There's an opening. I open it and the small piece of paper turns into a page when unfolded.

I find some photos of me wrapped up in paper.

OHH! The man wrapped my pictures but made sure that every one of them remain as straight as metal.

And the pictures. Ufff!

All of them are taken when I'm looking at something. Not at the camera.

Me carrying a kitten in my arms. Sleeping soundly. Laughing covering my face with both hands. Wearing sunglasses with tongue out posing like an emoji. Pouting like a baby. Wearing silk dress. And everything which can be called cute and beautiful. 

I don't usually call myself pretty but my man got some dangerous photography skills as every single photograph is spotless.

Everything about him is so.. I can't name. But I am damn sure the things dancing in my stomach are definitely butterflies. 

The note, the rose, the pictures, everything is so sweet of him. But the only thing that bothers me is blood.

First of all, why is there blood? Next, whose blood is this? And, why did he say sorry? If you think about pictures then- Nah.

The pictures don't bother me. If I have a stalker, so be it. If he is the type I am looking for, then I will undress myself for him next time. And let him fuck me, if he wishes. But if he just remains in the shadows then. No. I don't want him. Dear man, at least show me your face so I can decide whether to smash you or pass.

But I keep all the questions in the back of my head. I can't stop myself adoring the rose in my hand.

I gently twirl it in my hand and shift sideways to face the mirror. I was afraid of the mirror since last night but I can't stop looking at myself in it. 

On the bed. Wearing nothing but a T-shirt, a sports bra and lacy panties. Black flower in my hand.

Could it be from the man who appeared in my mirror? Maybe. Just maybe he is sorry for making me cry, I guess.

But, forget that.

I still play with the rose and place it against my lips and kiss it. Will the kiss give my message to him? I hope.

If yes, then I flood the rose with kisses. Some are just a touch. Some a gentle peck. Then I grab the petals gently between my lips and teeth. I lick them in between these. And I bite the petals assuming these are his lips. But I make sure not to bite it too hard so that they remain safe and not get damaged. Well, I would love to do the opposite with his lips.

I sniff it to inhale his scent with it. Some part of me is jealous that Nate smelled it even before me. Or that she smelled it at all. She shouldn't have done it to something which is mine.

I don't care who this man is. I have a dangerous obsession for dangerous men for a long time. Whoever he is, just be someone I can love. Not some foolish bastard who does not know anything about anything.

I will marry this man if he turns out more than my expectations. Please, be good.

Wait, what if he actually is the mirror guy? Who cares. Maybe I overreacted last night. Now if I think about him, all I can think about..

How good those fingers looked. How beautiful that face behind the cloak could be. Who this person could be. This man is a mystery. I love mysteries.

A smile stretches across my lips as I think of how gorgeous that face would be. I try to fit every man's face I know, but none of them matches it. He could be someone really handsome. 

The smile widens at the thought. He could be as gorgeous as this rose. What his voice would be like if he is that handsome. 

My face brightens with every single thought I have of him.  We both will look good together.

I push my thoughts aside to adore the rose again.

I am busy looking at my reflection in the mirror and accidently the rose touches the vase.

Great Idea!

I hurry to pick the vase and put the rose inside it. Then place it on the side table again and continue crushing over it like a teenage school girl.

Finally found a type to suit my favorite vase. Favorite vase. Favorite rose. Favorite color. Favorite mirror. Favorite man.

I close my eyes to feel the warmth of the letter and rose. The things are cool as ice. But still are able to set my skin on fire with just one touch.

Thinking of him with eyes closed is out of the world. Just imagine, me and him. In our home. Together. Forever.

Does he feel the same as I feel for him? Or its just an act of guilt? I hope its not the latter. I want him to need me as much as I need him.

I shake the disturbing thoughts out of my mind and embrace my mind with peaceful images. Dark sky. No stars. Just a moon. Dim streetlights. Empty street. No sound. Just his and my heartbeats. Just him and I. Just us.

And thinking of all these I don't know when I sleep.

Another day without food. Just inner chaos.