To Be With You : Beneath Your Paradise

Chapter Six

                              Jack

                              ~☯~

The next morning hits me like a hammer. My head pounds with the force of last night's drinks, and the sunlight streaming through the curtains feels like a punishment.

I stay in bed longer than I should, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake the images of her face that keep flickering through my mind. Her eyes, wide and unsure. Her lips, pressed together like she was holding something back. The sound of her voice, soft, shaky, alive.

I groan, dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. The cold water shocks me back to reality, and by the time I'm dressed, I've convinced myself I can face the day without her invading every thought.

That is until I walk into the kitchen.

The table is piled high with food-a full breakfast spread that screams of my father's interference. The sight of it sets my teeth on edge, and my mood sours instantly.

"Good morning, sir," the maid chirps from the stove, her smile bright and oblivious to my irritation.

I sigh, grabbing my jacket from the back of a chair. "I've told him before-I don't need maids in this house."

"But, sir, he strictly-"

"Enough." My voice comes out sharper than intended, and she flinches slightly. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Just tell him this is the last day. I don't want to see anyone here again."

I leave before she can respond, slamming the door behind me. The cool air outside does little to cool my frustration, but the roar of my motorcycle drowns it out as I head to campus.

I cut the engine. Swung my leg over the bike. Pull my helmet off and felt the cool air bite my skin. The frustration from this morning still claws at my insides, jagged edges that won't smooth no matter how hard I grind my teeth. But then I see ...

Her.

Standing there like she doesn't belong, and yet like she's the only thing holding the world together.

Anastasia.

She's by the Art and Design building, looking lost. Her head tilts slightly, her hands fidget with the straps of her bag, her eyes dart around like she's searching for something or maybe someone. A breeze catches her hair, and I watch as she brushes it back, her fingers so delicate it feels like I shouldn't even be looking.

And just like that, the sharp, ugly thing sitting in my chest dissolves into something softer. Something warm.

The phone in my pocket vibrates, buzzing against my leg, demanding my attention. I ignore it for a moment, my eyes glued to her. She doesn't see me, and somehow that makes it better.

But the buzzing doesn't stop.

I sigh. Pull the phone out. Glance at the screen.
Mel.

I sigh heavily and answer. "Yeah?"

"I'm walking towards the IT building," she chirps, her voice too bright for how my head feels.

I don't look away from Anastasia. "Meet me by the Art building. I'm already heading there."

"Okay!" Mel says, and the call ends with a click.

I slide the phone back into my pocket, but my hand lingers there, brushing against the cool edge of the ID card tucked inside. The little tag swings slightly as I pull it out and hook it onto my belt, the plastic catching the light. A smile curls at the edges of my lips before I even realize it.

I tuck the helmet onto my bike and start walking . Slow. Purposeful. My eyes never leave her, not until I'm close enough to see the way her fingers tighten on her bag. Close enough to see her shift her weight, her gaze dropping for just a second before snapping back up.

Our eyes meet.

And for a second-just a second-I swear the whole world goes quiet.

Then I'm past her, my steps steady, my expression calm, like I didn't just feel my heart trip over itself. Her student ID dangling from my pocket like a secret I'm daring her to notice. Mel's voice calls my name, and I glance up to see her waving, her smile as bright as the sun.

But even as I walk toward her, even as she loops her arm through mine and starts talking about something I don't care enough to follow, my thoughts are still with her.

The way her eyes widen.
The way her lips part.
The way I could feel her watching me as I walked away, like a string pulling me back toward her.

I let my fingers brush against the ID at my side, the name printed in bold letters across the top.
Anastasia.

And I smile.