Page 114 of Through My Window
“How can you be so sure?”
She gives me a sincere smile. “I just know. You’ve been through a lot; I think you deserve a break. Your grandfather is going to be fine.”
Unable to control myself, I pull her to me and hug her, burying my face in her neck. Her scent calms me. I want to stay like this. She lets me hold her and caresses the back of my head.
It’s liberating to tell someone how you feel, letting it out takes some of the weight off your shoulders, like you’re sharing the pain. I take a deep breath, burying my face even further into her neck.
I don’t know how long we stay like this until she finally pulls away from me, still on my lap. I want to protest, but I don’t. Instead, my fingers gently trace her face.
“You’re so cute,” I say, watching her blush.
The back of her hand caresses my cheek.
“You’re cute too.”
A pleasant sensation fills my chest. So this is what it’s like to be happy. This moment is perfect: the rain beating against the window, her hand on my face, our eyes having a conversation so deep that words could never match it. I never thought that I would have something like this. I thought that love was an excuse to let someone else hurt you. Yet here I am, letting her in, and my fear has diminished, overshadowed by this warm feeling.
I lick my lips, observing every detail of her face. I want to memorize it, so that when she’s gone, I can remember her. The sound of the rain mixes with her soft breathing, and my heartbeat echoes in my ears. I open my mouth and say it before I even finish thinking about it.
“I love you.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and her hand stops on my cheek. I know she wasn’t expecting it because I wasn’t either. The words were out of my mouth before I could control them. She lowers her hand, hesitation and indecision clear on her face.
“It’s okay, don’t feel pressured to answer me,” I assure her, faking a smile. “The last thing I want to do is pressure you.”
“Ares . . . I . . .”
I take her face and lean into her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then moving closer to her ear.
“I said it’s okay, Witch.” My breath on her skin makes her shiver, and I enjoy it.
When I pull away, she still seems hesitant, squirming against me, and I give her my best smile, squeezing her hips.
“Don’t move so much, there’s a limit to what I can handle.” The blood rushes to her face, and she looks down.
“Pervert.”
“Beautiful.”
She looks at me again, red as a tomato, and stands up. My thighs feel cold without her closeness. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I’m desperate for her attention and affection. Who knew that I’d be begging a girl and telling her I love her without getting an answer.
I snort, laughing at myself.
I remember Raquel’s words that night at Artemis’s bar after she turned me on and left:Karma is a bitch, Greek God. Oh yes, it is. Raquel picks up our cups from the floor and sets them on the computer table before she turns and gives me a quizzical look.
“What are you laughing at?”
“At myself,” I say openly, standing up.
“It’s late,” she whispers, crossing her arms over her chest. I feel her becoming defensive, careful even, and I can’t blame her. She’s afraid I’ll hurt her again.
“Do you want me to leave?” I’m surprised by the fear in my voice. She just looks at me without saying anything, so I clear my throat. “It’s okay.” I walk to the window and see that the rain has stopped, but it’s still drizzling.
“Ares. . . . Wait.”
I turn to her again, she’s leaning on the computer table, her arms still crossed over her chest.
“Huh?”
