Page 4 of Tempted
When I notice how long it’s been since I last said something, it becomes clear that he’s locked into the same trance I’ve been stuck in and I decide to pull back, dropping my eyes from his gaze. The intrusive way we’re studying each other is getting a little uncomfortable.
“I’m, uh, going to… go.” I say, gesturing off into the distance. My words are awkward and uncomfortable. I’m clearly not making the best first impression and as much as I’d love to run away, I’d love to stay and bask in this sense of recognition in equal measure. For whatever reason that emptiness in my soul feels like it’s filling up a bit when I look at him, but that’s nothing more than a whole lot of crazy so I dismiss the thought immediately.
“No!” he shouts, his hands shooting out in front of him like he’s about to make a grab for me only to pull back at the last second. I stumble back a bit at the sheer vehemence in his tone and the forcefulness in which he’s displaying. When he reaches out to catch me, I right myself and shake my head slightly, just enough to let him know I’m alright without his help. “I, shit, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I was hoping you’d stay and talk for a second. You look so familiar,” he says, bending a little to regain eye contact with me.
“I bet you say that to all the girls you hit in the head with your boomerang,” I tease, hoping to lighten things up so I can relax, still not meeting him eye for eye. Right now, I’m so anxious it’s lucky I’m not clenching my ass cheeks with how tight all my muscles feel.
That would be highly unpleasant.
Something is setting me on edge and I’d be willing to bet it has everything to do with this startlingly handsome man who’s given me more attention in thirty seconds than anyone else has in the last eighteen years.
“You know, I can’t say I’ve ever said that to anyone,” he smiles. “In all my years, there’s only ever been one girl as stunning as you that I’ve come across.”
“All your years, huh? What are you? I’d guess, twenty-four,max.” I respond, fully trying to ignore his ‘stunning’ comment. It doesn’t work out, and warmth pools low in my belly, making me uncomfortable on a whole new level.
“You’d be surprised. I’m an old man,” he jokes, winking playfully, and I laugh, finally easing myself into this weird but casual conversation with a stranger. “Seriously though, I can’t shake this feeling that I know you.” He studies me once more, and then starts whispering to himself, making me wonder if he’s possibly mentally ill for a second.
Logically, this is the moment I know I need to leave. This is getting so creepy. Again, that is what my logical brain is screaming at me to do, but instead I hear myself saying, “I have the exact same feeling, only I can’t figure out where from.” And even worse, I feel myself batting my eyelashes at him and leaning in close. So close, in fact, that I can smell the sea salt on his skin and it takes every ounce of willpower I’ve got not to close the gap between us and lick it off.
What’s happening to me? It feels like I’m being hypnotized or something, but if that’s the case, should I be cognitive of the goings on?
“Zii?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Huh?” I question, growing more and more confused by the minute.
“Your name,” he responds, and it still takes me a beat longer to realize he’s asking if my name is Zii.
“No.” I shake my head. “My name is Felix.”
“I could have sworn… Who’s your mother?”
“Dr. Grace Reichmann, Archeologist extraordinaire,” I quip sarcastically, taking a moment of clarity to relish feeling like my normal smart ass self. Only after saying it do I wonder why I’m so freely giving him information. He looks thoughtful, almost… knowing.
“Why are you here?” He queries, and I can’t help but feel like I’m living a real life fictional moment—like when Dracula mind controls the other monsters in Hotel Transylvania, only I’m fully aware that it’s happening and just can’t stop it.
“To become better than her and beat her at her own game so she knows once and for all that I’m worth loving, that I’m worth noticing,” I tell him honestly.
“Is that what you truly want?” he asks with a tilt of his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as his stare becomes somehow more intense.
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To take back their own power?”
“Some just want power in general, all of it, no matter who it belongs to,” he counters.
“Mm, that’s true. Not me though. I just want to prove that I’m worth loving as much as the next person. My mother only sees success though. It’s her love language and up until now, I’ve still yet to have earned it.”
“That’s incredibly sad,” he murmurs sympathetically, his lips turning down with the vaguest hint of a frown.
“I’m used to it,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.
“So am I. Doesn’t make it any less sad, now does it?”
“I guess not,” I agree and then realize what he said so it’s my turn to tilt my head in question. “What did you mean? So are you?”
“Yes, well, I’d originally mistaken you for a girl I once knew. Coincidentally you share all of her features perfectly. Almost as if you were locked in time,” he tells me, narrowing his luminous golden eyes.
“You really know a girl that looks like me? Maybe I have a doppelganger or something?.”
“Indeed. Alas, you couldn’t be her. Things ended rather tragically, I’m afraid. I’d just been so caught off guard at first that I couldn’t help but imagine you as her, I suppose.”
