FEEL

37. Onism

Onism ~ the frustration of being stuck in one body that can only be in one place at a time, having limited experiences in life.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

I don't want to recall the conversation I had with Cameron Pierce in the car, let alone accept that it even happened. I should have known from the stoic expression, the stern demeanor and his steady and assertive eye contact that it didn't mean me well.

“Do you regret it?” I had asked him, partially not wanting to receive an answer.

He hesitates, adding tension to the already stuffy car. To my already tightly coiled muscles. Then he shakes his head, “No.” By the way he says it, I know that he means it. However, my relief is short-lived, because he adds, “But that doesn't make it any less wrong.”

My mood becomes bitter. “That isn't fair. You don't get to kiss me whenever you're in the mood and then when you're not, go back to the stupid excuse of what's appropriate and what's not.”

His chuckles without emotion. “When I'm in the mood? Is that what you think?”

“I'm left with nothing else to assume”

“It's not an excuse. If I blurred any lines and caused you any heartache, I really am sorry. If you think that I took advantage of you-”

“You didn't.”

“-then it's a valid concern-”

“Stop it,” I grit out. “Stop it right now.”

“Will you listen to me first?”

“No. You're making it sound like such a bad thing when it wasn't. At least not to me. If it was for you, then I'm sorry, but to me...” I stop before the remainder of the words come out, halted by fear. Of what he might make of the words, of the words on their own, and why they were even about to leave my lips.

It was the best thing to happen to me in my whole entire life.

And he did that. Single-handedly, he evoked things within me that had been in hibernation since I was old enough to grasp them. He made me feel things for the first time in a long time. The warmth of when his lips touch mine, how he holds me possessively close to him, makes me feel...wanted. Makes me feel felt. Makes me feel safe and...and owned.

That's the word. He makes me feel owned. For once, it felt like I belong to somebody. Like someone has me and I have them. To think that he didn't feel the same...it hurts. To think that he would find this same feeling, not from me, but from somebody else, it hurts. To think that he wants to be that close to any other woman, that he would give himself to her in ways that I could never have him, that ached to the highest and most exhaustingly overwhelming degree.

“It won't happen again.” My gaze lifts to his blue eyes when he says this. His jaw is locked tight to signify sternness, gaze stubborn and unwavering.

Even though I believe the opposite, my head shakes, “You don't mean that.”

He does.

“I do. I'm not doing this to hurt you.”

My voice breaks when I say, “It feels like you are.”

Something hinders in his gaze and his expression falls in some sort of defeat. Mr Pierce looks away from me, falling back against his seat and grabbing a handful of dark strands into his grasp. His chest rises as he takes in a breath before he confronts me again. There's a new kind of determination, not just in his expression, but in his voice as well.