Five

Now that she had more or less cleared the air between her and Jacob, their day-to-day interactions had gone back to normal.

At least that was what she was telling herself.

She was definitely not thinking about the small moments when his eyes lingered on her for a second too long, nor the electric shocks that would run up her arm when her hand brushed against his. That would be absurd. She was better than that.

Was she being unreasonable? Maybe, but at least she wasn’t running away from him anymore. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment at her actions during the week prior, but she quickly composed herself, as blushing was nothing to do while anyone could walk in on her in the kitchen.

It was good that she had done so, as it wasn’t even two minutes later that the devil himself strolled into the room. Jacob’s golden eyes were immediately on her Her hands froze halfway to her face, the aroma of her hot coffee filling her senses as she stared back at him before taking an overly large gulp of the steaming drink.

It burned as it hit the back of her throat, coughs erupting from her. She yelped as more spilled over the edge of the mug onto her legs. Her chest burned as she tried to recollect her breath, managing to set the mug on the table before doubling over with a hacking gasp.

“I didn’t know I could take your breath away so easily.” It was the first thing out of his mouth after her coughs had finally died down.

She sent him a poisonous glare; her face red from effort. Her throat hurt as though a thousand bees had stung her.

“Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrows, his lips curling in a hint of a smirk.

She huffed, clearing her throat to relieve some of the built-up pressure. “I’m fine,” she rasped. “No thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sorry in the least.

She suppressed an eye-roll, sighing down at the second pair of pants she had spilled all over within days of each other. Underneath the fabric, her skin prickled with the cooling dots of hot coffee.

“How can I make it up to you?” His eyes sparkled dimly; his tone unexpectedly serious.

“Don’t worry about it,” she grumbled.

“See, you say that,” he moved to stand directly across from her, leaning his hands on the table to look into her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly stop. Especially since this is not the first time I’ve seen you do that.”

She knew her traitor of a face was blushing. She could maybe play it off as a lingering effect of her trying to choke herself to death, but his pleased smirk made the effort fruitless. He was too close, she could distinguish the shades of gold within his eyes, from a bronze-brown to the light flecks that made rings around his pupils.

He pulled back, and a small part of her wanted to pull him back. He went to the counter, plucking serviettes from the tray. Her eyes traced him as he returned to her, lingering on his angular face, her hand shooting out to take them from him.

She turned her attention to patting her pants dry, trying to ignore his scrutinizing gaze that remained on her. While some of the liquid had dried already, she continued to press on the fabric.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jacob’s voice was surprisingly soft, prompting her to look up at him. He was bent over her seat, a frown crinkling his brows. “First, I’m happy that you’re not avoiding me anymore,” he gave her a pointed look, though his eyes were kind. “I just want to hear why we have to pretend things haven’t changed.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “That’s not a question,” she dodged. She could feel his heat, her skin prickled at his proximity; a fact that she pointedly ignored.

He sighed, his breath stirring her hair.

Her eyes slammed shut, and she forced a calming breath. “What is it?” She stopped herself from looking at him, locking her gaze on the small dent in the wall across from her.

“Why are you so against me?”

The question itself wasn’t what sent an arrow into her heart; it was the aching hurt that he was trying so hard to hide.

“I’m not against you,” she murmured around the lump forming in her throat.

“Then what is it?” He asked softly, almost a whisper. She could feel his fear and anxiety rolling off of him; almost suffocating. “I don’t understand. I’ve tried to, but I… I just don’t.”

Roselle’s resistance broke, and she turned her head. Her heart hurt from the vulnerability that shone in his eyes. If she had been honest with herself, she would realize that Jacob’s father’s questionable morals were only a scapegoat. The truth lay within the life she had envisioned for herself, and Jacob didn’t fit. That he aligned himself with his horrible father was only the most blatant reason that this was the case.

Today was not the day for such a revelation. So, she was left speechlessly staring back at the boy who was looking back at her with wide, pleading eyes that made her heart flutter.

“I need to know,” he swallowed, licking his lips nervously. “I-” he stopped himself. Confliction overtook his features. “I need a reason.”

A reason for what? She wondered as she searched his face.

“I need something,” a rasp entered his voice. “Something to think about. Something; anything.”

Roselle’s eyes flew wide as he broke before her, and suddenly, she knew that this wasn’t only because of her. The crumpled serviettes in her hands were all but forgotten, dropped to the floor as she fully turned to him in her seat, hands hovering, but not touching as he crumpled before her.

“What happened?” She breathed, her eyes wide with terror for his answer.

He only shook his head, his face twisting painfully, though there were no tears. His heaving breaths racked his body as he shrunk into himself.

“Jacob,” she called his name, to which he didn’t respond. “Look at me,” she demanded, her thin fingers pulling his fisted hands to her.

“No,” he croaked, though his hands had twisted to grip hers.

“Tell me what happened?” Her heartbeat pulsed through her head, waiting for his answer in the thick silence. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he shook his head again. His grip tightened, and she winced at how her fingers ached under his touch. He had lowered himself into a crouch beside her, looking so small.

She sucked in a breath, silent demands for him to tell her what was wrong, what had happened, flooding her thoughts. She pulled one of her hands from him, moving it to cup his jaw instead.

She lifted his face, meeting his pained eyes. In them, she could see his dread and sorrow. What could have made him like this? She swallowed, searching his face for any sort of hint.

He tried lowering his face, a shudder ripping through his thin body. “Forgive me,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

“For what, mon ciel étoilé?” She brushed her thumb over the curve of his cheek, refusing to think about her own use of the endearment.

Darkness swept through his gaze, his features pinching. He only leaned into her touch, his breaths slowing as they sat there; still.

“I’m sorry,” he raised his free hand to cup hers, holding it to his chest, bowing his head. “Forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” she assured him, though she wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. His distress was alarming, and in the years she had known him, she had never seen him act in such a way. He had always been so lighthearted; steady despite his teasing whims. Seeing him like this… “Tell me,” she urged. “What is wrong?”

He sucked in a stuttering breath, closing his eyes. “I can’t tell you,” he peered up at her imploringly.

“Why?” She stared at him.

“Please,” he swallowed. “Just forget this happened. Forget I was even here. You never saw me today.”

She couldn’t say anything, concern and helplessness having taken over.

He pulled himself from her, taking several steps away. His body trembled, his golden eyes wide. He shook his head one last time. “I’m sorry,” he rasped before he sped from the room.

Roselle shot to her feet, moving to follow him, but stopping in her tracks. She didn’t know what had just happened, but it left bitterness in her mouth and hollowness in her heart.