Page 29 of The Heir

“I was taught when I was a kid.” He pulled away from me. And even though I still wanted him close, I was also grateful to have more of my self-control back with the distance. “I was made to have near perfect penmanship; my mother insisted on it. I think your cursive is beautiful. I saw your notes in your notebook.”

Eventually, and even though it hurt to do it, I added the names of the roses if I knew them underneath his writing. I was honored to be part of something that was his—and so personally so. I made sure to write small, not wanting to take away from his beautiful lettering.

“So, you move a lot?” I asked, still fumbling through the pages.

“We did. Keil and I have mostly been on the east coast. I think we will be here for a while, though.”

“Really?” I asked, a little too enthusiastic, looking up at him, and he smiled.

“Yes, at least until I am done with high school—which will be next year,” he said, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Do you have any plans for after you graduate?” I asked.

“I want to see my family, let them know how I am doing. I have not seen them in a long time. I want to find my way home somehow.”

It must be hard,I thought.Knowing that your family is out there, and you cannot be with them. I wonder what happened with his parents and why Keil is his guardian.

“What about you?” he asked after a brief pause.

“I don’t know yet. College somewhere; luckily, I still have two years to figure it out.”

“That is true,” He sat down beside me. I then realized that he had been standing the entire time I spent looking at his book—or hobby.

“I do think it is more of a collection than a hobby,” I said.

“That may be true; I never knew what to call it.” He shrugged.

I closed the book, then, and turned to him.

“So, now, that I have seen your secret rose collection—”

There was a pause, and I looked into his golden eyes, waiting for him to say something.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asked, finally.

“Yes.” We stood up at the same time, and my head hit the bottom of his chin,again. I sat back down and moaned in pain.Ouch, it really hurts this time.

“Are you okay, Emma?” He knelt beside the chair as he spoke.

“Yes, sorry. I am kind of clumsy.”

“I think I need to be more careful around you.” He gave me a beautiful smirk, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked up at me from the ground where he knelt.

“Areyouokay?” I pointed to his chin. He smiled and nodded. He stood again—this time far away from me as he reached his full height.

“Let’s eat.” He reached his hand out to me, which seemed so formal, but I was eager for an excuse to touch him again. I took his hand in mine—our palms touching, and then slowly our fingers were interlocking. First, there was a steady pulse and a heat rising between us. Then, the song floated around so loudly inside me, and I wondered if he could hear it, too. I gasped as I felt my heartbeat quicken. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Our eyes locked for that moment.

Does he feel it, too? He has to feel it. Isn’t it clearly written all over his perfect face?

I never wanted to let go of his hand ever again. His eyes turned a shade even more golden right before me, and I wondered if I was seeing things or if that was really happening. We stood there, for I don’t know how long, looking at each other, our hands entangled together. I could not help but feel the burning inside of me, deep within my very soul, that I really needed to know him, know everything about him. It was as if I needed to know who he was, like I needed to breathe.

Mine.

My soul echoed within me to the beat of my made-up song. It surprised me.

Why am I being so possessive? Is this some teenage, hormonal thing again? If so, I have never heard of this one before. They did not cover this in health class, freshman year.Who are you?I wondered. As soon as I did, my entire body was filled with one phrase—so quiet, so soft—but clearly, it was there:

I am yours.

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