Black Temptation

Chapyer 41

If not telling him things was your faux pas, why am you doing it again?

I shouldn't do it again. I shouldn't. But he won't talk to me. Should that be my excuse? But what if he reacts positively? If he was willing to go, why would he fazed if they made a house call? Yet, with the probability of success it's an equal probability of failure. That would shatter everything we've built. This feeble trust imagined by Adele, this feeble trust imagined by Harry. I only want him to get the closure he needs. This week has been the worst and if I can do nothing else for him, I'll do this for him.

I hang up the phone. (Peters is not the only one who has connections). Now the waiting game. Pacing, I think to find Harry...tell him they called and just decided to come over. No. Lying is not the way. And he hasn't even tried to communicate with me. He's been outside all day. The more I try to convince myself this was the best thing to do, the guiltier I-he abruptly comes inside, face steamed and sweaty, his mop of curls glued to his brow, shirt in tow, pants low, with a black boxer hem showing.

Ugh! The love we would make right now. I can almost feel his tender hands, etching goosebumps all over my skin, his tongue gracing my neck, the fire burned passion we'd create between blinks of an eye. I swallow my fantasy. When I open my eyes, he's gone. The shower has been run and so has my patience. Inside his black tiled bathroom, steam engulfs your senses and takes over breathing for you. I throw myself into the shower with him, he throwing himself against the wall.

"What are you doing?!?" He yells.

I shrug, "I guess some words are good words. Harry, I need you to talk to me."

"McKenzie, get out of my bathroom."

Lowering my head, I nod.

"I can understand why you've taken ownership away from me but what you will not do to me is ignore me. Harry, we can't ignore this. Like every time something bad comes up you run away or use physical violence and we can't deal with this like that." Eyes batting, I say, "and you can't ignore my breasts" in my most puppy like voice I can muster.

"Uh, I think I can handle myself." He suggests and the suggestion is well received. I step closer and he backs away, killing himself not to look me in the eye.

"I think you handled yourself pretty well," I say looking down at my finger nails, "don't you think?"

He lets out a cool breath and the playful patterns that played in mind no longer exist.

"I just don't-I just don't want you to think that I intentionally did any of this to hurt you, and I know the repercussions of that was hurting towards you and for that I would like to say that I am sorry. From the deepest, depths of my heart, I am sorry. And I pray, you can forgive me one day."

He doesn't move an inch.

"Please, just say something."

And after moments of this very present silence, he graces my face with a palm igniting a trembling smile on my lips.

"You know, you sound just like her." My heart drops. "Just give me the time to be distant from you. Like I did you. Give me that, please?"

I bite my lip, well how long? My little "process time" wasn't very little.

"I'll be in brief contact with you, darling, but I don't need your convincing and I don't need your sympathy."

He pushes the door slightly open, I nod, letting the iced air in and me out. You could say success of mission, but it's not that fulfilling.

Even in all his nakedness, I still know he said he isn't sure if he wants me. Or even if I can be in his life.

***

It's around 8 pm. They said they'd be here an hour ago. Maybe their heart is racing just like mine. Maybe they're uncertain just like me. Or maybe they bailed like the cowards they seem to be. I should be the last one creating assumptions about people. I'm on the conch, Harry occupying upstairs when the doorbell rings.