Page 76 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

“Like … like that,” I stuttered, switching glances from his eyes to his lips.

“I don’t know how else to look at you.” His voice sounded low and seductive.

This man made me believe that behind those eyes was a promise: a promise that he would reveal his soul and allow me to see his true self. If only it were true. It was only a figment of my imagination, an illusion. This was his true self: the amazing father who loved his daughter like any good father would. My erotomania was fooling me into believing that he loved me differently deep down. It was part of my disease.

“Aria …”

My body was on fire. I wanted him to touch me so badly, yet we remained still, sickly teasing one another while our demons danced around us. They taunted and tortured us, whispering temptation in our ears, begging us to give into one sinful act that would forever bind them within our bodies, claiming our very identities as their own. They would drink our souls to unsalvageable nothingness. That’s how I saw it in my mind.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” Noah whispered.

My skin tingled when he stroked back a strand of my hair and lightly brushed his fingertips up my arm, guiding my fallen bra strap over my shoulder. He made me shiver at his touch; an electrical current flowed through my body. Noah was just too damn beautiful, and my heart was shattering to pieces every second that passed in his presence. What a curse and blessing this was. I felt blessed to know him and be around him every day, and cursed because as amazing as it was to be a part of him, I never felt content with that fact.

I was transfixed. Maybe it was the music. It must have been. I mean, there’s a reason why religious fanatics ban “ungodly music”: it puts you in a trance. And when you achieve that trancelike state, that’s when so many influential images and thoughts manifest in your mind. Doesn’t the Bible imply that Lucifer participated in some sort of musical worship? Maybe Satan was to blame. Maybe I was hellspawn. But how could I be a product of the Devil when a hybrid angel contributed to my creation? Noah wasn’t evil, and my mother didn’t possess an ounce of wickedness. I couldn’t understand how this corruption had deeply rooted itself inside me. Where was its origin? Perhaps there was satanic intervention when my mom got pregnant—like that horror flickRosemary’s Baby.For a second, I imagined myself as a succubus with hell horns, looking back at Noah. White feathered wings would open from behind his shoulder blades, arcing high in all his magnificent glory, like the angel I believed he was. It was possible that he was my only chance at salvation, but I was too corrupted to the core to be saved. All I wanted was to give in to temptation and contaminate him as well. But you can’t corrupt an angel. The only being who stood as Biblical proof that there was any flaw in the creation of the angelic species was Lucifer himself. Noah wasn’t Lucifer. He wasn’t evil. But I was.

My iPod switched tracks and randomly played something slower, Lyves X Synkro “Body Close.” It had very captivating lyrics with a rhythmic bass drum.

As if the sexual tension isn’t bad enough,I thought.

“You should go,” I said. “Vanessa will be home soon.”

“Why are you so adamant about pushing me away?” He scowled.

The distance between us was so small that I could literally feel his body warmth.

“I … ” My voice cracked. “I’m not trying to.”

Noah was breaking through my barriers, and I was freaking out inside because I didn’t want to break down in tears.

“Just talk to me, please.” He gently held my hands.

I looked down and appreciated the way his slender fingers intertwined around mine with such natural ease. It felt like his hands belonged there. How could I ever communicate these feelings to him without losing him? I never could.

The lyrics of the song were getting to me. It was almost as if fate was mocking me. Whatever powers existed above were clearly laughing at my expense. My palms were getting sweaty and I wanted to pull away, but Noah stopped me.

“It’s okay—I don’t care.” He firmly squeezed my hands. “I know you’re nervous.”

Apparently he was a master of body language too.Great.

“Whatever’s bothering you or hurting you,” he continued, “you can tell me. You know that I love you.”

Hearing him say those three words resurrected my barely beating heart back to life, and then I started to cry because I knew he didn’t mean them in the way I wished he would. It was just so heartbreaking for me. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Sweetie, please don’t cry.” His eyes were sad, and I was trying my hardest to compose myself, but the tears just kept on falling.

“Aria,” he whispered. “Come here.” Noah guided my wrists around his waist and wrapped his arms around my back.

I was hugging him now, and it felt like heaven falling down when he enveloped me with his masculinity. My mascara was getting super runny—black tears fell on his naked shoulder. I sniffled and tried to stop my sobbing.

“Hey, shhh …” Noah slowly caressed the small of my back with his open palm. It felt warm to the touch. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry.”

I snaked my arms around his shoulders with such a strong, yearning need and held on to him as if my life depended on it. He slowly rocked me side to side in rhythm with the music. It was soothing, comforting, and erotic at the same time. I closed my eyes and listened to the beautifully sad melody. I don’t think he realized that his gentle rocking had turned into a very intimate slow dance. It all just happened so naturally.

With great strength, I managed to turn off the tap on my emotions and rubbed the wet mascara off Noah’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at the black smudges. Then he looked at me and flashed a warm smile. “You’re so beautiful. I swear, you don’t need any makeup.”

“I know it doesn’t define my beauty. Itenhancesit.”

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