⋆ s e a l e d t r u c e s & u n e x p e c t e d v i s i t s ⋆
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quatervois (n.) a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life
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HE IS RIGID WITH SHOCK when my lips first touch his, but after a few seconds, his begin to move against mine. This is nothing like the first time, which was slow, gentle, and explorative. This kiss is rough, passion slipping between our parted lips. His hand curls in the back of my hair, pulling my face closer to his, and his other arm tangles around my waist, crushing me to his firm body. It is fiery and wild, the kind that obliterates any hesitation and clears any other thoughts from the mind. We ravage each other, harshly savoring each second as if we can't get enough of each other. He sears me everywhere he touches, a million sensations flying along my skin.
He moves his lips to my neck, hot breath causing me to shudder in anticipation, as he slows things down. He kisses me gently on the side of my neck, a torrent of heat flooding my body. After a few moments, I can't take anymore, and I grab his chin, pushing his face up to meet my own, and once again our lips are clashing, battling for dominance in a heated war. Our breaths are heavy and fast, the familiar taste of mint and licorice invading my senses once more.
Once we finally pull apart, we are both out of breath. His green eyes are filled with a dark and seductive look as they roam my face, reading my expression with a hooded stare.
"Andromeda," he pushes out, his voice husky, tainted with something akin to hunger, "you don't know what you do to me." I can only imagine what I look like right now, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled, eyes wild.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you, Jordan, I meant what I said," I say after a few seconds, picking up my glasses from where they had fallen. Some of the flames in his eyes extinguish at my words, but I can't let myself be too swept away again, or no progress will occur.
"Thank you for protecting me." My voice is softer this time, more tentative as I stare at him.
"Always, Andromeda," he says, his use of my full name making me want to kiss him again. There's something about the way he says it, adding meaning to every syllable, causing me to feel like the most desirable girl in the universe.
Since he is all cleaned up, bandaged, and taken care of, we exit the nurse's office, the kiss hanging between us like a secret only we know about as we pass others in the hall. I share one last smile with him before disappearing down the hall to one of my other classes, feeling as though a big burden has been lifted off my chest now that we're talking again.
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When I walk into chemistry later that day, there is something different about Jordan. He seems softer, more open, the usual furrows between his brows gone. He seems truly relaxed and carefree, different from the times he's faked it.
"What's got you so happy?", I smile as I take my seat.
He turns to look at me, his earnest expression startling me. "You, Bumble," he says, heartfelt and genuinely. My heart speeds up as it usual does in his presence, his words sending my pulse into a dizzying spiral.
I am at a loss for words so I just pull my notes out from my bag, letting my hair fall over my face to cover my painted red cheeks. His hand moves and tucks my hair behind my ear, eyes laughing.
"So," he starts, "you want to know the truth." I am caught off guard by his words and the serious tone that accompanies them.
"It's a long story," he sighs when my eyes implore him to continue, "can I come over tonight?" My heart swells in the fact that he is going to tell me the truth finally.
"Yes, same time as usual?", I ask, and he nods, causing both of us to smile.
"It's a plan."
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By the time the doorbell rings, I'm a nervous wreck. Emotions have been building up inside me for hours, most prominently an electric green anticipation. I stride over the the door, expecting Jordan to be standing there. What I see is a police officer instead, kicking my heart into overdrive.
"C-Can I help you, sir?", I push out nervously.
"Yes ma'am," the officer says with a smile, which is supposed to soothe me but instead it scares me even more, "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Jordan Lee." His name brings everything in me to a halt.
I stand there for a few moments, unsure of what to say.
"Do you have a warrant, sir?". My voice is firmer and sharper, causing the officer's brows to furrow slightly in annoyance.
"No, miss, I was hoping for your cooperation," he says, his words edged in threats.
"Well, I can't help you until you prove that it's necessary, with a warrant," I smile falsely, glad I remembered what to say from my criminal justice course at school, "have a good night sir."
I close the door on him, my pulse pounding so loud I can hear it roaring in my ears. I pull out my phone and dial Jordan's number, praying that he picks up.
"Bumble?", he asks worriedly, "I am parked a block away because I saw the police car, are you okay?"
"Yeah, you better come over now and explain why they were trying to get me to give you up. Give you up for what? I don't know," I say, words rushing over each other.
"I'll be right there," he states, and I hear him turn on his ignition before hanging up.
A few minutes later, he is sitting in a chair across from where I am, on the couch. I stare at him expectantly, hoping that whatever he says has a good explanation for the multiple times the police got involved. He blows out a breath, pushing his black locks off his forehead.
"It all started with my father."
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