Page 57 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“Not at all.”

“You’r–I don’t know that words are good enough to describe what you are, Chem.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Silently, we shared appreciative gazes, and then, suddenly, he stepped aside. On a table I didn’t recall being there earlier, he revealed a large box of roses. They were plentiful.

“These”—he cleared his throat—“They don’t die, Choc.”

I melted, instantly recalling the ones he’d killed accidentally.

“Chem!”

Finding my footing, I rushed toward him. Just as I approached, I noticed something quite unusual. Quite out of character for him.

“Mister,” I sang, cupping his cheeks.

“What?” He smiled, unable to hide it this time.

“Are yo–Are you blushing?”

“Hm?”

He brushed his hands over his waves, one after the other, stepping back so I wasn’t so close. I stepped forward, not letting him off the hook.

“You are!”

His smile reached his eyes for a split second. The darkness lightened. The longing in them wasn't overlooked, either.

I’m right here, I thought, pressing a palm against the side of his face.

“Chem, it’s okay. You understand that, right?”

A shake of the head confirmed his reservations.

“Someone broke your heart?” I asked, driven by the fear that was apparent.

He was traumatized. Life hadn’t been the only thing to make him this way. Someone had helped.

“I told you I’d do better next time.” He stepped aside, nodding toward the roses.

His words stole another piece of my heart. He was deflecting, but his sentiments were heard loud and clear.

“Who broke your heart, Chem?”

“My mother,” he spat, the light in his eyes vanishing as the darkness returned. The Chem I was growing fond of quickly retreated, replacing himself with the colder, relentless version. “Dinner is ready, Eden.”

His body stiffened underneath my touch. I hung onto his words as I followed him into the room where a table was set for one. As I sat in front of the plated steak and glass of water, I came to the conclusion I’d be the only one eating. However, I still needed to ask. Concern wouldn’t let me keep quiet.

“Are you not hungry?”

“Food won’t satisfy my craving. What I’m in the mood for is between your legs.”

“Che–”

“I pulled you away from dinner last night and fed you food I wouldn’t even feed a dog. I owe you a steak.”

The brutally honest Chem was present. Instead of giving him a few words to chew on until dinner was finished, I decided to fill my belly. Hunger was ready to announce itself at any minute.

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