Damaged

28 | numbness

We showered in record time, and we didn't even do it together. I wrapped a fluffy towel around myself and stepped on the cold tiles of his bathroom, goosebumps rising on my legs. I opened the door to his bathroom and saw him buttoning the top of his white dress shirt with a gray tie hanging around his neck, and God did he look sexy

I took a moment to look at him while he was busy with his tie. His dark hair looked raven while wet, and his forest green eyes glowed, illuminating his whole face. There was a light stubble running across his razor-sharp jawline and his plump lips were rosy and alluring. He bit his bottom lip as he concentrated on the knot he was making, and then released it unconsciously.

I wish I was the one bitting his lip.

I take a moment to contemplate on us and how it ever happened. It is wrong in so many levels and we both know it, but it is impossible to ignore the connection we have. I felt attracted to Alexander the moment I laid eyes on him and social conventions were the last things on my mind right then. I just saw him as a man. A sexy, captivating man that I was forced to look at every day.

Are we walking on thin ice? Yes. Are there going to be consequences if we're caught? Definitely.

I don't know what we're doing, and where this is going. I didn't think about that before I came to his apartment. This could be something casual, a booty call even, or it could be something else entirely. And as I reflect upon our current predicament, I can't bear the thought of being someone he's using purely out of lust. I frown.

Could he be using me for sexual favours?

Does he want to use me for sex and then discard me like I'm nothing?

Has he done this before?

The thought makes me sick.

I crave to be special. I want to be the only girl he has touched.

I feel my mood souring instantly. That's the thing about being unstable, we attach to others and look for comfort anywhere we can find it.

I know what it looks like. My father is an absent piece of shit that prefers to give me material things instead of affection and Mr Clarke is an authority figure. This screams daddy issues and I'm surprised that I haven't thought of it before. I've been analysed so many times by shrinks that I can identify what the fuck is wrong with me without even trying. It used to be instantaneous, but that ability has diminished with time and I haven't realized.

I sit on the bed and shiver with cold but I don't have the energy to move. My thoughts started growing increasingly erratic with every moment that passed, and the sound of Mr Clarke moving made my anxiety worsen. I felt deflated as I sat on the bed and I stared at my hands before me.

I heard him stop doing whatever he was doing and I continued to stare at my hands with my head bowed down. A lifeless corpse, a girl that lost the spark inside of her just like that.

I felt hands on my shoulders and I wanted to squirm and twist my body away from him but I didn't. I sat very still and very spiritless while he clutched me, and although I knew what I was doing was wrong after everything that happened last night I couldn't help it.

"Luna?" He said tentatively. He received no answer from the girl in front of him, a girl that he didn't have the misfortune to have met yet. This was the self that I tried to repress everyday and she was finally showing after months of hiding.

"You okay?" He tried again, concern laced in his deep voice. He caressed the skin on my shoulders with his thumbs and I stood up, his touch unbearable against my body.