Ares hasn’t looked at me fully, and yet he still manages to make both my heart race and my breathing pick up. The tension on the balcony is too much for me. Like a coward, I turn toward the door again, but, before I can touch its knob, he moves in quick steps and blocks my way.
I always forget how tall he is, how beautiful and perfect every inch of his face is, and the intensity of his eyes. I look down, backing away, but Ares moves with me, forcing me backward until my back hits the balcony railing.
“Running away?” His voice is cold and makes me shiver.
“No.” I shake my head, and I get a little dizzy.
I keep my eyes on his chest. Not even the courage that alcohol gives me is enough to face him. The smell of his cologne hits my nose, and I struggle not to close my eyes and inhale exaggeratedly.
I missed his smell, his presence, and his ability to make me feel everything without even touching me.
“Look at me,” he orders, but I refuse. “Look at me, Raquel.”
Reluctantly, I obey. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight. Unwillingly, my gaze drops to his lips, and I notice that his piercing is missing.
“I-I have to go,” I try to step aside to pass him, but he puts both hands on the railing, locking me in.
“What are you doing up here?” he presses me. “Did you come looking for me?”
“Of course not, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
He gives me that stupid smirk that I love and hate. “Not the world. But you do.”
His arrogant statement annoys me, and I push him, but he doesn’t move. “Get out of the way!” I push him again without any success.
“Why? Do I make you nervous?”
I look away, faking disinterest. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you shaking?” I don’t know what to say, so I just look away. “You’re shaking and I haven’t even touched you. Don’t worry, I won’t either.”
Why? I almost ask out loud, but I don’t say it. He’s out of my life. I have to keep my word this time.
Silence stretches between us, and I dare to look up again. His expression is as impassive as ever. How does he manage to feel nothing? How does he manage to hold me so close and not show a single emotion? While I shudder, struggling to keep my feelings in check, he is so normal, so calm. So why won’t he let me go if he doesn’t care about me? Why is he blocking my way?
And then a tide of emotions sweeps over me. Ares has hurt me a lot, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave my life either. I might be a game to him or whatever else, but I’m tired of going around in circles, expecting something from him that he’ll never give me. He’s not interested in being with me. He hasn’t fought me any of the times I told him I wanted him out of my life.
The memory of that day in his playroom comes to my mind. His impatient face, waiting for me to leave. His hand offering me the phone as if in payment for my services.
Squeezing my hands, I push his chest once. “Let me go! Get off!” He moves to the side, and I move away from him. I stagger in the direction of the balcony door, my stomach twisting.
No, not now, don’t puke now, Raquel. This is not the time.
I get so dizzy that I grab a metal chair next to the door. And I half fall, half sit on it. Cold sweat runs down my forehead. “I don’t feel very well.”
Ares appears at my side in a second. “What did you expect? You drank too much.”
I don’t know how he understands my babbling. “How do you know I drank too much?”
And then I heave.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I vomit gloriously in front of the guy I’m in love with. This clearly qualifies as the most disgusting and embarrassing moment of my life.
Ares holds my hair as I vomit all over the wooden floor of the balcony. Tears well up in my eyes from the effort of each gag. When I finish, I feel like I’ve drunk another whole bottle of alcohol. I can’t even hold my body up; I’m like a rag doll. Apparently, vomiting makes me more drunk. I always thought it would be the opposite.
Everything is a blur, and Ares’s voice becomes so distant.
TWENTY-SIX
The Story
- ARES -
I grimace as I watch Raquel finish vomiting. I’m holding her head because apparently she can no longer keep her body standing or sitting or upright in any way. I take her face in my hands and blow on it to cool her down. Her eyes are half-closed, and she gives me a goofy smile.
“It smells like cigarettes and mint chewing gum,” she says, chuckling. “Like you.”