It Only Gets Worse

Chapter Three

×Chapter Three×

There is a king-sized bed, with a red velvet bedspread, a black leather loveseat, and gold wallpaper on all four walls. Then I see the white, double French doors leading out onto a balcony.

“Can I go out there?” I gasp. I’ve always been a sucker for first class looking hotel suites.

“What for?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“But—”

“Go wash up, Felicity; the bathroom’s to the left.”

“Ugh!” I yell in exasperation as I go through the bathroom door, slamming it. (Though I must mention, it is very nice to have a bathroom in my bedroom.)

I look at my reflection in the mirror, and hold back a sob. God, I look horrible. Messy, tousled hair, a much too pale face…I think I’ve even lost weight. And not to mention the wide open wound on my wrist. I wince, just looking at it.

I open the medicine cabinet on the wall, searching for a Band-Aid or some gauze. I only see a bunch of cotton swabs, face wash, and a box of razors. Seeing the razors, I think again. Maybe just another cut or two wouldn’t hurt anything…

Suddenly the door busts open, and it barely misses hitting me in the head. Aiden grabs me by the shoulders and slams me into the wall.

“Don’t. Even. Think about it,” he hisses.

“Good god, excuse me for having thoughts. You know, it’s not like you have to listen in all the time.”

“I can’t help but to hear; you never shut the fuck up!” He pushes me back to the wall but almost gently. I suddenly just want to end this feud. I am tired.

“Why don’t you just shut up, Aiden?” I ask, softly.

“What?”

Before he can yell at me anymore, I meet his lips. He must be too shocked, because he doesn’t pull away. Without doubting myself, I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. All I want is him, at the moment. I don’t want to be angry at him. I want him to be happy with me for once. I just want to stop antagonizing Aiden. Thinking to myself, I start to realize I have more feelings toward Aiden than anger. Much more feelings. I’m overwhelmed by confusion and break the kiss.

“Why’d you stop?” he whispers. I just now notice he is holding me to him softly.

“What are we doing?” I say quietly, almost to myself; I can’t figure out what I’m feeling for him.

Like a light has gone off in his head, he lets go of me and I can almost feel him harden like stone.

“Shit.” He disappears out of the bathroom. A second later he’s back with a large Band-Aid and puts it on my cut.

I can also feel myself go back to my normal mindset, too. Though I am still distracted, I remember what his first intention was for me in the bathroom, anyway. Looking down at my cut, I remember that it hasn’t been cleaned.

“Um, you didn’t wash it, first...?” I start to say.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” he growls, taking me by the hand and pulling me back into the room.

He pulls back the bed sheets.

“What exactly are you getting at?” I laugh nervously.

“Felicity,” he groans. “Eventually we’re going to have to…sleep together. Get the fuck over it because you have some major blood loss and need some rest. Go to bed.”