Page 33 of Through You
“Still prone to falling asleep after a reading a few pages?”
Yes.
“Of course not.”
He keeps quiet. I stop staring at him like a fool and look out the window at the houses, buildings, and trees whizzing by.
The motion makes the alcohol still in my system act up, making me feel dizzy. So I turn to look at Artemis instead. The watch he has on the arm resting on the wheel reflects the light of every streetlamp we pass. Every aspect of his appearance is immaculate.
Anyone meeting him for the first time could easily feel intimidated by his presence, which surely comes across as detached and unapproachable.
They, of course, have not seen his softer side. The side he showed while standing up for his brothers when they were mocked for what happened with his mother. Or that time when he stood up to his dad, who was about to give Ares a beating. And many other instances that no one knows about.
Why is it so easy for me to see through him? Is that the reason he still wants me? I’m not stupid. True, he’s no longer the teenager who declared his love underneath a sky illuminated with fireworks, yet the tenderness is still there in his eyes. I can see it when he looks at me.
What do you want, Artemis? Sex? Or something more? Has thefact that you couldn’t have me prevented you from moving forward?
A part of me is terrified at the possibility that once he has me he’ll move on, simply because he’ll no longer be chasing something he can’t have. And that’s not even the main reason I keep myself at a safe distance from him—it’s one of many.
Artemis shoots me a quick glance. “What are you thinking about?”
I keep my eyes on the road ahead of us and refrain from speaking.
“I thought I was a man of few words but you’ve always bested me at that.”
When we arrive at the house, I quickly get out of the car and run to my room to check on my mother, who is sleeping peace-fully. I let out a deep sigh of relief. I gently massage my shoulder as I make my way to the kitchen. To my surprise, I find Artemis there, standing at the opposite end, hands resting on the edge of the table behind him. He has removed his jacket and loosened his tie.
“How’s your mother?”
I walk past him to get a bottle of water from the fridge.
“She’s fine.” I don’t know why I feel edgy or why my heart is once again beating madly.
You’re just horny, Claudia. That’s all. He’s very desirable. It’snormal to be attracted to him.
The tension between us is heavy and thick. It’s as if it’s been slowly mounting as the night progresses.
Just seeing him here, his hard body covered in those elegant clothes, and the intense gaze promising a host of delicious indecent things.
What are you afraid of, Claudia?
Developing deeper feelings . . . becoming vulnerable . . . notmeasuring up to someone like him. Being used and discarded, likemy mother. Losing the emotional independence I have worked longand hard to build. And being distracted from achieving the goalsI’ve set for myself. I’m afraid of too many things.
I wish he was like other guys—just someone I could enjoy an uncomplicated and purely physical fling with. But there’s too much history between us. We share too many memories. After taking a sip of water, I turn around and look him directly in the eyes. I need to dispel this tension between us. So I soften my tone.
“Rough day at work?”
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Every day at my work is rough.”
“It must be hard to manage a big company.”
He lets out a deep breath. “I’m used to it.”
I’m not sure why I want to keep having a conversation with him. I think it’s the alcohol. I should be in bed already.
“Do you still sketch?”
