Page 51 of Quarantined
We already have a long list of reasons why we shouldn’t be together. I will probably go to hell for what I did with her last night. Now I have to add trust issues to the list of reasons why we shouldn’t be together.
Even as I point out all the flaws of us being together, deep down, I know none of those reasons will stop me. After last night, my obsession has risen to a whole new level. I got a taste of what I have been craving for years. And now I have become a mad man. It took everything in me last night to not follow her in the bathroom and fuck her again.
I will not let her find another douchebag and move on. She must feel the same. Raven is strong; she is no pushover. She has no problems saying "no" to men. I have seen it plenty of times. She would not have given up her virginity to me if she didn't feel the same uncontrollable pull we have towards each other. She obviously didn't go all the way with Michel for a reason. She was waiting for me. I know she was.
I look at the clock. It’s five am. I don’t know when she snuck back, but I am not giving her a chance to run out of the house again and avoid me all day. We need to talk. I just wish I knew how to reach her. She is impossible to force a conversation out of before she is ready.
I stay in bed for a while longer, contemplating what to do. Finally, I see the sun peaking out. Putting on a tee shirt and sweatpants, I walk to the kitchen to make breakfast.
The house is eerily quiet as I walk to Raven’s room.
“Rave, I made breakfast.” Trying my best to sound normal, I knock on her door.
“Oh, okay. Thanks. Be right there.” I sigh a relief. At least she is still here.
I set the table for breakfast and find Raven walking into the kitchen. Her expression is unreadable. She is freshly showered and looks breathtaking, as always.
She is in a casual white tank top and sweatpants. Yet, it does more for me than any high-end lingerie some of the girls have thrown my way.
“Coffee?”
“Sure.”
I pour two cups of coffee, as Raven takes charge of stacking eggs and pancakes on to our plates. I watch her out of the corner of my eyes.
“So… the fashion show in Paris went well? You are a big shot designer now. Are you going to remember us peasants when you are at the top?” I try to keep it light.
“Big shot? I think I am a micro-shot at best.” She sounds casual as well, trying for humor.
“Everyone needs a start. Do you get recognition as the designer of the dress?”
“Before I left for New York, Mom said that I do, and I get a small cut for any of the “Its so Raven” dress sales.”
“Hah! So you really are a big shot designer.” I continue our banter. I don’t know if my voice matches my nerves. “Will you be taking me out on a fancy date, now that you are a baller?”
“Ummm…” Raven tucks her hair behind her ear. Shit, too far. I have to switch gears.
“Did your mom like any of your other designs?”
Raven takes a sip of her coffee as she devours her food. “I haven’t shown her the other ones.”
“How come?”
“It never crossed my mind."
“You should.”
Raven nods.
I try to keep the conversation going. “Did you call your mom to let her know that you reached New York?”
“Ya, but she didn’t pick up. I texted her this morning.”
“And Uncle John?”
“I called him too. He has a virtual assistant now, who deals with his messages. She said he would return my call after work."
“Reid mentioned you went to see him this summer. How was the visit to South Africa?
