Stranger

ch31

I am a fucking masochist, I really am.

Something is seriously wrong with me because I seem to enjoy torturing and messing with myself just for the fun of it. And what is that fun you might ask? Well, let me tell you right now. It bears the name of Evie. 

Yes, I am fucking playing with myself a very dangerous game. Ever since the carnival and, if I'd were to guess, even before that, I am having a hard time around this friend of mine. It's insane and idiotic and fucking stupid the things that I am putting my own self through, but I can't stop, I just fucking enjoy it too much. 

First came the sight of her in those short pajamas and loose top. Oh, that vision did wonders to my imagination, something I really did not want, but turns out I needed very much. Just the memory of her near me, touching me and just simply being there makes my breathing pipe tighten.

Next came the pool party, where my mind had been focused on only one thing, the last thing I had expected to cross my brain at all and that was kissing her. I had actually attempted to kiss her and not a single doubt or red flag had gone in my head, not like the first time. 

Then came the trip when she went and got herself hurt, the one time I made it my mission to keep her safe, but I failed. I lost sight on her for a very short time and a fucking prick found those exact moments to hit her with a paintball. 

She didn't have to tell me how much it hurt because her face told it all. The painful expression she had was enough of a clue for me too see how much the hit had pained her. It was that what made me do what I did next, use my power to help her feel less of the burn she must have felt. But the whole thing backfired on me. 

It drained me the way I used my power, holding it in, just on the brink of spurring out, but never letting it go, but it wasn't that the reason I had the reaction I did. I knew that it was draining me, I felt it sucking my energy, but I didn't want to stop. 

The feel of her soft skin on my palm, the warmth that radiated from her had me lost in thought, lost in the moment and I fucking loved it. I enjoyed being wrapped in that and it made me resist all the warning bells that my body was giving me, all the signals that I was shutting down if I didn't pull back. It wasn't my own decision to let go, it was more of a reflex of my body protecting itself. 

And then she fell asleep on my shoulder on the way back. 

She doesn't know this, I made sure she doesn't even suspect it because I adjusted her away from me just before waking her up, but she had spent the whole way back with her head on my shoulder, her body angled towards me, cuddled closer in sleep. The steady rising and falling of her chest, the peaceful expression on her face, the glint of her skin, the little hums she would make when she'd readjust herself better and even closer to me were the only things that held my attention for the whole ride.

The rest of the week and the days in between I'd sneak hugs, hand squeezes and small pecks just to torture myself some more because it seems I fucking enjoy it more than whatever else there is. 

Evie had become my one and only torture, the one and only thing I loved to test myself with just to see how far would it take for me before I snapped and took the final step. 

I had been close many times, it had crossed my mind often, but the hesitation in her eyes had always stopped me from going forwards with it. 

She always had an uncertain look on her face, a reserve in her eyes whenever I came close to her and she'd always look away before I could see what and why was she doing that. I suspect that she does have feelings for me, but I don't know to what extent they go.