Ambrosial

Chapter Seven - Sappy Lily

"Is this how you thank a gentleman who had cared for you at your time of need? No wonder, you hate men. You can't seem to get one for yourself." He said, in a cool, harsh voice, as if he wasn't holding me in his arms. I pushed the fluttering feeling my stomach was having, and pushed out on all the rage as I pulled my hand from his grip –alas, no luck on that one.

"How dare you speak that low of me?! I do not loathe men for their lacking in my romance life, but I despise them for treating all of the women of the world as if they were maidens that they could put a ring on in their fingers whenever they like! I hate people, like you, who belittles the capabilities of one, judging them from their gender!" I blurted, as he looked at me straight –like I wasn't throwing a huge fit as I try to get out of his iron grip.

But, I couldn't help but feel nice when he touches me.

Stop it, Lily! You're supposed to be mad at him!

"Is that so? Maybe because people of my kind has not yet witnessed what women has to offer in the society. So far, it has shown me that women were nothing but a headache and ones that you had to tape their mouth and lock them in a room and throw away the key!" his iron grip tightened, and I can't help but wince at that –he must have noticed because something in his face (and grip) softened. Nevertheless, he wasn't letting go.

That sounds rather promising.

Bloody hell, stop thinking about your non-existent future with Mr. Ambrose! He is holding you –without permission- and is thrashing at the thought of what you stand for! Get a grip and put a sock on it, Lily!

Oh, right.

"Maybe because you still pull away at the thought of us actually being able to contribute into society! Don't you trust me?" my voice softened at the last part, and I had a feeling that this was going to be more personal that I intend it to be. Blast it! I was aiming for the woman-running-down-the-streets-after-you-with-a-spiky-parasol-in-her-hand kind of look!

Oh, well. I guess this works too.

"I... I... I think that you should go." He stood up straighter and went to back away from me, his hand leaving a trail of warmth in my arm and walked towards his desk, until I stopped him. How? Easy. By saying this:

"There you are again. Pulling away at me again. Why do you do that? Have I not shown you that I can be deemed as trustworthy? That I can be your impressive secretary but I could walk through these halls walking in my true form?" Silence emerged, but at least he stopped! That meant I caught his attention. So, I continued with a soft voice. "Do you remember when I saw you at the village after five days of fishing out dead bodies in the vast seas hoping that it wasn't you? You told me that perhaps we could talk about those... uncertainties that regards us both. I'm trying, Sir. I do not know whether this is appropriate or a waste of time, but I do know that we have to talk about this..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I didn't even know why I said all that gibberish things. But, all I know was something flashed through my eyes and those long nights of analyzing each of Mr. Ambrose's interaction with me might have given me a clue that he was feeling the same way I was feeling. That feeling of wondering. Not through the things you see, or that of where you are. But through the things that run through your mind. Wondering until you end up with that very person you have tried not to think of.