Blasphemous (Torn #3)(62)
Call me scared, but I couldn’t summon it in me to do so because the truth was, I was stupefied of what I might find if I did, or what I might feel when I looked at him again. Most of all, I was scared of what he would see—that I was throes, heaven and back, still, endlessly in love with him.
When we finally got to the lobby, Bass took the initiative to request for my keycard while I remained mum, hovering behind him.
After a few agonizing minutes, he spun around and held up a card. “Got your key. Now, let’s get you ready for bed. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”
Wow. Wow. Wow. The first time he tried to really talk to me and this was his line? Could he be any more subtle telling me that I looked like crap?
If I was in a great condition I might’ve responded with something catty, but instead I only sighed, “Yeah, I’m tired.” If he thought I looked worse for wear, then hell, go ahead. I wasn’t trying to be sexy to coax him back to me. It didn’t work either in Greece or in Los Angeles, so what was the point?
The ride back was still in the same dire situation. I was past emotional exhaustion and was more than grateful when Bass slid the keycard into the slit before swiftly turning the handle to enter my room.
I expected him to leave me then, but became surprised when he entered with me. Ignoring his overpowering presence, I took off my shoes and strode towards the fridge for some water.
I looked anywhere except at him—around him, next to him, behind him—really, anywhere as long as it wasn’t directly at him. I felt too much already and the saddest thing was, I yearned for something from him. Things that were already gone, but it seemed that I was consumed with so many memories of him that I was on the verge of begging, pleading.
I was too damn close to it. I felt it. My body was fighting, raging war against me. Alas, I had already implored a thousand times, but he was immovable, unyielding to see my reasons. They weren’t simply excuses, but honest truths. Yet, he still didn’t believe me. Nor trust me. The latter made his decision final.
“Thank you. I would love to talk and catch up, but I’m tired,” I spoke as I lowered the bottled water onto the bar. Without hearing a response from him, I strolled towards the bathroom door to have a quick shower, but before I did so, I had to bid him goodbye. “You can let yourself out. Thanks again.”
In the bathroom, I didn’t crumble until I was in the hot shower. “This is the last time… no more tears,” I told myself as I felt the water on my face, cleaning my tears away with it.
With my towel-dried hair, I came out of the bathroom with a cotton robe on and paused when I saw Bass, still standing in the exact same spot I left him half an hour ago.
My surprise made me forget not to look directly at him and, damn, when I did, things started to blur for me. Not visually, but mentally and emotionally.
“I was going to leave, but I heard you crying.”
Oh, shit. Don’t you dare breakdown in front of him, I ordered my shaky self. “It was nothing. It’s just been a rough day and it’s almost that time of the month,” I lied, smoothly. I hoped it worked because I was out of ideas if it didn’t.
I bit my tongue, about to curse out loud as Bass purposely walked towards where I was frozen in time. “Look at me,” he whispered as he slowly lifted my chin with my downcast eyes.
Shaking my stubborn head, I didn’t budged. “Why are you doing this? Can you please just leave? I’m begging you to go. I’m so tired.” Of fighting… everything.
“Look at me, Emma.”
What was his problem? Didn’t he have friends to return to?
“I can’t. Don’t ask it of me again because I can’t.” Why couldn’t he just leave me be? It was what he wanted. It was what he wished it to be. I had complied, defeated, but still complied. “Go,” I choked out, like a broken cry or plea. One thing stood out with that simple word, it sounded broken.
“You can’t look at me, or is it more like you won’t?” Bass continued to f*uk with my mind.
His relentless persistence was driving me ballistic. “What the hell do you want from me, Bass?”
“Honesty, Emma.”
“Why? According to you, I lie or I don’t know what I’m talking about. So, what the heck is the point in any of this? Leave me be. GO, Bass!” And leave me with my misery.
“Is that what you want?”
Why? Since when did my wants ever come into this? Ever since he found out about Carter, what I want hadn’t mattered. How many women had he been with since me? The stupid thought popped out of nowhere. It didn’t matter. Bass wasn’t my business, not anymore. “Yes, Bass. Stop acting weird, please, and leave my room.”
With my eyes closed, I violently shook as my tears pooled behind my lids, threatening to escape.
“Why were you crying?” he asked in an almost pained voice.
Why care about my tears now? They never made a difference to you before. “None of your business.”
“Are these tears for me?” He brushed a tear away, looking at the wetness on his thumb like it was the first time he’d seen one.
As if. Arrogant man, he was right, however I’d rather die a thousand deaths than tell him the truth. “Seriously? Of course it isn’t for you. Why should it be for you? What makes you think that I’m not with someone and we just had a nasty fight?”