sexual. || Enoch O'Connor (completed)

n i n e

"No."

He smirks and walks over to me. I instinctively stand up and he crashes his lips into mine. I kiss back, and this time when he licks my bottom lip, I part my mouth a little.

We fight for dominance before this thing called air is needed. We part, breathing heavily.

"Did you read the note yet?" He asks and fixes his hair that I messed up. I shake my head. "You should, see you later." He says with a wink.

He leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

I sit down and let out a sigh.

"Oh my god." I whisper to myself as I realize what just happened. I fish the two notes from my pocket and read Enoch's first.

Dear Vivian,

I do hope you wouldn't mind meeting me in the garden after dinner. As how you will get there is not in my mind, but I know you will.

Your favorite ,
Enoch O'Connor.

I laugh a little at his proper grammar, although it's almost poetic, it's still funny. I fold it back and stick it in my pocket again.

I unfold the other and begin reading it as well.

To Emma,

I know it is quite inconvenient, the placement of this note, but I also know that it is placed behind one of your favorite books. I have decided to leave the loop, and go to America. There aren't many hollows there so I should be safe. You mustn't tell the bird yet, that is why I am writing this letter for you. I do hope you understand.

I'll write often.

Love,
Abe.

I fold the paper back and furrow my eyebrows. Who's Abe?

A heat a small knock on the door and I quickly shove the note I to a random page of the book.

"Come in." I say and fix my hair.

Emma walks in, a small smile on her face.

"It's time for our walk."

"You said your old home was in East London, and yet your accent tells me you're from Australia." I say to Edgar and shove my hands into my hoodie pocket.

He laughs a little, "I'm guessing you want my life story."

"No, I was just wond-"

"It's fine. I was born in Sydney, Australia to my mum, a non-working woman. And my father, a business owner. They were always confused as to why one day I'd get a scratch and a few hours later it'd be gone, no scar, nothing. Like it never existed. My grandmother finally told them about my great grandfather, her father, and how he could heal himself and others. They freaked out, half not believing her and the other half calling her father a fake. She took me in when my parents abandoned me, and soon sent me to live with Miss Rosella in Melbourne. I was about 10. We lived there for a while, about 5 years and then moved to east London. I stopped aging when I was 17. Making me about 34 now." He says. He looks down at me and smiles a little.

"How old are you?" He asks.

"17. Just 17." I say. He nods and looks ahead of him.