Page 13 of Kortlek

He’s mulling over his response, taking his time to formulate a proper response. In the meantime, the hand on my nape slowly starts massaging it, and I’m even more baffled than I was a minute ago. His actions don’t match his words, and it’s annoying me to the point of bursting out.

“I’m not very good with words,’’ he says, that dangerously low voice causing me to shudder lightly.

“Yes, Cove, I’m aware.’’ My words are softer and quieter than I intend, but they still send the message across. “But it doesn’t explain treating me like trash and then seeking me out. Why did you follow me here?”

I lower my hands next to my body, fiddling with the hem of my shirt, still unable to look away from him.

Cove bites the inside of his cheek and steps forward. Our chests are almost touching, the tension between us palpable. The air thickens, and I could swear that I hear his heart beat. His violent eyes peer into mine, pupils dilating with unspoken words. But that’s not good enough.

Yes, I’ve made the mistake of confessing to him. But it’s been two years, and not once did he give me any sign that he might be into me, too. Instead, he spent his time either avoiding me or, in the case of the locker room, speaking down to me. If that’s his way to show that he cares, I don’t want it. I need words, and I need him to say it.

I’m not sure what I want him to say, either. It’s nerve-wrecking just being this close to him. He takes in a deep breath, and his chest touches mine, and it’s like sparks start flying all around me. My fingers itch by my side to touch his face, to feel his skin on mine entirely, but I don’t move an inch.

Instead, I wait.

I wait for him to do something — anything. I wait for him to speak, to justify this scene, to tell me it’s all in my head and that he still dislikes me. I need him to completely crush down my hopes and dreams, because otherwise, like a pathetic, broken girl, I’ll cling to him until I can’t recognize myself anymore.

“Aria,’’ he breathes out my name, and I swear my knees almost give in. It’s been so long since he’s called me by my real name instead of the nickname he’s given me, and I can’t help but feel something twist in the pit of my stomach.

My name rolls off his tongue with ease, and it catches me off guard. It sounds like my name was made for him to say, and him only. Like it’s something both of us need at this moment.

“Yes, Cove?”

He’s struggling to speak, but I can see in his eyes that he’s trying to convey what he’s feeling, to put it into words but doesn’t know how. The hand from my nape drops, and instead both of his hands grip my hips, tightening enough to bruise.

I only blink, but when my eyes open again, his face is nuzzled in my shoulder. He’s not saying anything. He’s just standing there, pulling me closer, his face buried in my shoulder. He inhales deeply, then releases the breath, his shoulders releasing the tension slightly.

Meanwhile, I’m gobsmacked.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire. My breath hitches in my throat, and my hands suddenly stop fiddling with the hem of my shirt, just dropping by my side. I’m unsure of what to do. This is the most emotional I’ve ever seen Cove, and it can barely be called that.

“C-Cove?”

He hums in response.

“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my voice coming out in a hushed whisper. That damned perfect scent of his fills all of my senses, and I know that it’s rubbed off on me. For the next while, I’ll be smelling Cove on me, and the thought makes my stomach do a backflip.

His hands tighten on my hips, pushing me backward until I hit the kitchen counter. His breathing is heavy, his lips on the exposed part on my shoulder. Heat rushes up my cheeks and neck, and I’m pretty sure I’m as red as the apple I sliced not too long ago.

I swallow thickly, my mouth going dry. My hands tremble as I place them over his on my hips. I’m unsure of what to do, of what to think or feel. All of this is sudden, strange, and downright scary.

“I don’t know,’’ Cove admits, not moving. His hot breath hits my skin, and I shiver slightly, the sensations going right down to my core, and it’s one of the fucking weirdest things I’ve ever gotten wet for.

I’m a walking contradiction.

One moment, I want nothing to do with him. I still remember the words from the locker room, and it hurts whenever I think about him. That night, I decided I was done with Cove as a whole.

Yet, this giant here, the roughest man I’ve ever known, is holding me so gently, as if I’m the most fragile thing he’s ever held, as if he’s scared he’ll break me if he holds me too tightly.

I’m enjoying every part of this. If I could, I’d stay like this forever. With him holding me, pressed against me, and his soft, calm breathing down my shoulder. His scent lingers in the air, and my heart is full. It’s something almost intimate to the point of my heart bursting from happiness.

But, just like everything else in my life, the moment ends too quickly.

A pair of footsteps approaches the kitchen, and Cove immediately releases me, stepping back and refusing to look me in the eye. He clears his throat, and I’m waiting for him to say anything, but he doesn’t.

Blair steps into the kitchen and immediately notices the tension in the air.

“Is everything alright here?”

---