Ghost of You

t w e n t y

"We need to talk."

The four words slipped from my mouth as I collapsed into an upholstered arm chair and I had to force myself not to visibly cringe as they did.

"I feel like you're about to break up with me."

Nat who had been stretched out on the nearest couch, pulled herself back into an upright position, tucking her legs under herself and giving me a curious look. 

I've always hated clichés. Or maybe hate isn't the right word exactly. It's not that I hate the idea of a cliché, it's more that I'm terrified of becoming one. 

I've read the books and I've seen the movies where the main character falls for the one person that they are supposed to hate more than anything. My eyes absorbed every word as Elizabeth Bennet began to realize she had been too proud to admit she had fallen in love with Mr. Darcy. I had watched Belle become stricken with an alarmingly fast case of Stockholm Syndrome as she attached her heart to her beastly captor. 

I wouldn't have believed any of these quick turns between such contrasting emotions to be possible if I hadn't been standing on the precipice of one of these very turns myself. 

The past few days had done nothing to clear the worries and confusions surrounding the man who seemed to have a hold over my every thought. We'd completed two more training sessions in which I had continued to fail in learning the same move that I had been unable to complete in the sessions before. He was becoming increasingly confused by my inability to stick the landing. Sure this move was more ambitious than the other things he had taught me, but I normally picked new things up fairly quickly. In large part this was due to the fact that I could no longer concentrate in his presence. Well, that wasn't totally accurate because even when I wasn't with him I couldn't focus. He had become an annoyingly consistent and overwhelming presence in my mind, following me constantly everywhere I went like a shadow.   

In the time since he had seen my father's angered texts, the number of our softer and even affectionate interactions had increased exponentially. It seemed like he just couldn't stop touching me, that he was restless and jumpy when I wasn't right there in front of him where he could feel me. Those blue eyes, which had once seemed cold and abrasive were now familiar and welcoming, the gaze that he fixed me with holding a touch of care and even fondness. I never used to see that when he looked at me before. All I remembered from those stares were annoyance, even dislike. What bothered me most was that I couldn't remember when that had changed. When had the icy expression melted? When had looking back into his eyes started to feel like taking my first breath of fresh air after years of being submerged under the dark and freezing depths of the coldest waters? 

Those were important questions, questions I would probably never find the answers to, but they weren't the questions I really needed to be answering anyway. What I truly needed to know, was why being with Steve made me feel so safe, so untouchable, when the two people who knew him better than anyone had warned me that I was anything but safe with Steve.

Nat seemed to pick up on the confused trepidation that inhabited my current mental state because her curious gaze had morphed into one of concern.

"Are you alright?"

I sighed, placing my elbows on my knees and letting my head fall into my hands. 

"I'm in over my head." I admitted, shaking my head back and forth. "This whole Steve thing is really beginning to mess with me."

Nat didn't say anything, she just waited patiently for me to find the courage to say what I'd been denying to myself for who knows how long.

"I made you a promise, in the coffee shop. I told you if I started to see things heading in a bad direction with Steve that I'd end it."