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The prospect of Talia ignoring me upset me more than I'd anticipated. Maybe I should've put my name in the message. Maybe she didn't realize who it was. Maybe I should've just gone to her apartment, knocked on her door, seen her face to face, and invited myself in but the longer I sat in the backseat of the car, the more time I had to break down each 'maybe' and replace it with a 'maybe not.'
The allure of mystery was useless in this scenario but what can I say? I miss her smell, her smile, her eyes. I miss the sound of her voice. I shouldn't have posed a question. I shouldn't have given her the option. Maybe I should call. Maybe I should shut the fuck up and stop being a pussy.
I craved relief in the form of her company and it seemed like I was doing more internal groveling than what I usually do which is just taking what I want. She seemed to send me into an odd stupor of stopping to think. Contrary to popular belief, I don't do that often. Sure, recently, I have but that was a result of constant battering by whoever decides to fuck with the Santinos. Annoyingly, it was heightened by her.
Meeting her was a shock to my system. It felt like electromagnetic pulses consistently rushing through me with each thought of her. A glimpse of pink is enough for her to invade my mind, like a vapor or a parasite that takes over, rendering me useless and at her will. She's apocalyptic.
When I was younger, going to school was dreadful; I felt no joy, I felt no will to be a child, nor did I have the influence to do just that, thanks to the man I call my father. This feeling she gives me is akin to what I'd heard schoolboys talk about. Puppy love. Just without the love. I don't think I'll ever get to that point. No, what I'm feeling for her is lust. Lust for her company. And somehow, it felt like someone cracked my chest open and ripped my heart from its place the longer I stared at our message thread.
It's empty, save for the message I sent.
At some point, I get tired of waiting. So I knock on the partition separating me and Antonio and tell him her address when he rolls it down. I send him off for the night when he drops me off.
Making my way to her door, I find myself gaining more confidence in my steps. My body is enveloped in the hoodie she'd worn to the diner I took her to weeks ago and her scent still lingers as the wind blows against it. I was a bit disappointed when she'd left it the last time she stayed in my penthouse but that just gave me an excuse to keep it and wear it whenever I felt what I could only assume was longing. The feeling it gave me was characterized by my dick hardening each time the soft material brushed against my skin.
I knock and wait exactly four minutes for her to open the door. My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of her tiny frame. Her eyes are red and hooded, but her full lashes in the shape of what Farrah has taught me is a cat-eye make them look even more hooded. Her hair is devoid of curls and pulled back into a long ponytail. Granted I don't think I've seen her natural hair fully, but it looks thicker and longer than I remember. As my eyes travel down the rest of her body, I assess the large t-shirt that swallows her body, and my dick twitches at the thought of what's hiding under it. Her nails are freshly done and she's holding a potted plant.
