Page 131 of Obsession

“It wasn’t a restful night, was it?”

He looked at me curiously as he stretched his arms over his head. He was on the verge of banging his fists against the wall.

“Why do you say that?”

I pointed at him, amused.

“You’re all stiff.”

He chuckled and turned back to me.

“I will admit I didn’t have much room, but I’m not complaining about it, that’s what made you stay in my arms all night.”

That strange warmth returned, but it was no longer arousal. I clutched the pillow and looked at him intently.

“It was nice,” I admitted, holding back from asking him how the night he had wanted so much was.

He took my chin between his fingers and smiled.

“That’s a good word for it. Nice. Calm. Amazing. Even though I could not move, it was the best sleep I have had in years, and that speaks volumes.”

He looked down, seemingly lost in his own head, his own consciousness. I didn’t want to ask any more questions, although I was very curious about his thoughts.

I was distracted by his tattoos. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them, but now I could analyze them.

I sat up and stroked my fingers over the impressive vulture that reigned on his chest. Now I noticed that the bird had a furious expression. It reminded me of something, I had seen it before… but where?

“What’s the meaning of this?” I traced the lines of the open wings spreading across Harris’s chest with my fingertips. The bird’s head was level with his sternum, and its tail extended over his belly.

“It’s a Harris Hawk.”

I lifted my head in confusion.

“What?!”

Harris smiled.

“That’s the name of this bird, Harris Hawk.”

My mouth fell open in surprise and I quickly made the connection.

“Does it have anything to do with your name?”

“Yes. My mother always told me that you’re supposed to turn into a hawk when you are surrounded by snakes.”

I stared at him in shock. Harris Hawk was a vulture that could hunt snakes. What circumstances had Harris been borninto that his mother had given him that name? I remembered Kristen’s explanation that his mother gave him that name because she liked birds, and while there was a slight connection to the hawk, it wasn’t that close to the truth. The reality was much more logical and serious than my friend’s ridiculous hypothetical.

“So, your name is not Harrison,” I concluded.

He laughed.

“No, just Harris,” he winked at me and nodded.

“The Harris Hawk is a bird of prey, it can hunt like a falcon, that’s where the name combo comes from, but it’s not a typical species. It can be gentle and friendly. It hunts in a flock, not alone like the other birds of prey of its kind, and that makes it stronger. That’s why my mother has a special sympathy for this vulture, it’s good and bad at the same time. You have to be strong to face your enemies, but you should not forget that you also have friends who can help you. Be strong, but don’t forget kindness, or you will become a copy of the one who wants to bring you down.”

Harris no longer seemed to be speaking directly to me, he was repeating his mother’s words like a personal mantra, and I remained small beside him.

I had found the connection: Harris was a tough guy, but he also had a group of friends who seemed to be a real family to him, and I witnessed his aggressive behavior, but also his gentle demeanor. He could be both, and with the utmost professionalism.

---