His Crime

Chapter Seventeen

I feel his arm around me, cradling me as I fit perfectly into the way his arm bends and rests. His hot breath hits the top of my head, forcing strands of my hair to hit my forehead gently, reassuring me free of worries that I can't think of. With his chest heaving up and down in a routine, my head rests gently on his lion tattoo. His other hand that's free lays on his stomach, where he fiddles with my fingers that assures me this is real. Once his fingers intertwine with me and gently, but surely, squeezes mine, I hope with all lost hope that he is truly here. That my tortured dream of losing him permanently is proving me wrong, that he is here and not at the warehouse, pure hatred surging through him as he thinks of what I've done.

His fingers release mine, as he lifts his hand away from my view, that I can only imagine that his hand doesn't disappear, that he is truly with me, using the backboard as rest whilst he leans against it. That when his hand lifted, it was going towards him and not into blackness, where my dream ends and can't create the image of his face.

But his hand comes back, resuming the same warm touch on my skin as if it never left.

"I know you're awake," he whispers gently, shooting terror into me. Lifting my head slowly, he releases his stern grip and watches me as I sit facing him.

"What are you doing here?" I question, watching a small tremor of a smile grow gently on his lips, as his honey eyes welcome me.

"Reminding myself why I shouldn't be here," he answers with a unnerving smile, breaking my bliss into worry.

"Then why are you here?" I repeat gently.

"Wanted to see you before I go," he answers reluctantly, his daunting smile growing. I notice his jeans are on, and as I scan the room, his shoes wait beside the bed with his top laying next to it. He's not here to stay, as he said and clearly means.

"Where are you going?" I ask, worry haunting my thoughts while his eyes taunt me.

"Wherever my heart desires, and of course, yours."

"Where, Justin?" I demand sternly. When he chuckles, I immediately know.

"What does your heart desire, Selena?" His mockering smile fades. I try to make unknown words escape from me, to insist for him to stay away and with me, to promise me to forget everything, but all that leaves is a trembling breath. When I don't answer, he pushes on, "Is it me, or Nick? Where do you desire to go?"

"You already know, Justin. It's you," I answer finally, desperation slithering into my voice, desperate for him to realise this trip to Nick isn't going to change anything, desperate for him to realise that I am uncontrollably in love with him and aching for him to notice.

"Does Nick know?" he asks, arching his eyebrows as he observes me, breathing me in and drawing me in his mind, to remember me for when he has to leave and do something horrible in the name of me.

"Yes, he does. He knows what I want, Justin. So, please, leave it alone."

"Leave it alone?" he repeats, furrowing his eyebrows.

"You don't need to meet with him to prove a point. I made it clear, and I'm sure he got the point from me," I elaborate.

He laughs humorlessly, licking his lips as he keeps his eyes on me. "He got your point, not mine. I'm making sure it'll be drilled into his head," he says, sitting up properly as he leans over and reaches for his shoes. As he slides them on, I stand from the bed and beside him.

"What point is that, exactly?" I question.

"What do you think, Selena?" he replies sarcastically, tying his shoelaces.

"Why did you come here?" I repeat again.

Briefly looking at me, he pulls on his second shoe as he says, "Why do you think?"

"Tell me!" I snap as he knots his shoelace.

Standing up, he explains, "I came here trying to fix what you've caused; to fix our relationship and update Nick on his status involving me."

"You said -"

"Did you really expect any less of a reaction, after what you told me?"

"You said," I continue, "that you couldn't stand the sight of me. What changed after a day?"

"What changed? Nothing. I still can't sit right with this relationship with Nick on my mind. I can't change the fact that even though it's been a couple of hours, my mind keeps tricking me into trusting your story. I can't change the fact that I won't be fine with letting you go."

"So, that's it? Just as simple as that?"

"As simple as that," he repeats. "It's going to be hard as hell, but no matter what you do, I can never be mad at you."

I watch his lips, to see it stretch into a smile, to watch the words float out that this was joke, that he still hates me and can't stand being in the same room as me, but nothing swims out. His lips remain in a line as his eyes watch me cautiously. I wait and wait for the heart-wrenching words to escape, but he says nothing. His eyes, what was once full of flames, now have afterglow. 

"Everything you said," I begin, failing to explain the fatalness his words had, for him to now retract it.

"Everything I said," he prompts, watching me carefully, cautiously and worryingly. When I don't answer, he explains, "Everything I said about Nick, I still mean. Everything I said about you, I'm at a lost for words. I said it in anger, which doesn't make up for it, but that doesn't invalidate everything I said before that. Everything I said about loving you for weeks and months before is still true."

"Did you mean any of it?"

"Are you not listening to me?" he exclaims.

"Did you mean any of it, Justin?" I repeat. "Your declaration of love can still be true, but if your declaration of hate has any truth behind it, then your love doesn't equal that out."

"'Doesn't equal that out'? Selena, what are you talking about?"

"Answer me, Justin. Was there anything you said yesterday that you meant, and still mean now?"

"Yes!" he answers. "Are you happy? You told me you slept with my old friend who's made it his life's mission to hurt me, I'm going to think you don't love me."

"You also said I'm not worthy of your love," I add.

Silence.

With a prolong stare that confesses everything and nothing, he finally says, "I'm tired of everything having to be worthy. I'm here to tell you, I love you. Can that be enough than my angerish words?"

"I'm so, so sorry for everything," I say, a burden of remorse finally feeling like it's being lifted.

Grinning, he pulls me closer to him and embraces me. "We'll be fine," he mumbles into my ear, but I can't help wonder what else can be justified for the cause of love.