Complex
two
My fingers scratched at the old wooden bench, impatience growing within me. I pulled my hat down further over my face as I waited, my face becoming colder. He was always late, always liked making me wait. He was probably doing things with her, holding her hand, laughing with her, kissing her; savoring their lip-glossed flavored lips. Until he came here, tasting my broken lips, ruining any flavor she had, and I, tasting his cigarette and alcohol ridden lips. I wonder if she's noticed.
I looked up from the ground, and notice him walking towards me. My heart skipped a beat as he caught me staring. He looked pissed, his feet hitting the ground with force, angry words probably spewing from his mouth. He came closer to me, a look of pure disgust in his eyes. I stood up, walking to meet him. "Isaac-" His finger on my lips cut me off.
His hand reached for me, taking me back to the bench. I sat back down, him next to me. "Anastasia, how old are you?" He asked, his hand on my thigh. I looked at him, my eyes wide. Since I had met him, this had been the second time he had asked me. I lied the first time. "Answer me, Stasia," he ordered, calling me by my nickname.
I chuckled slightly, brushing some hair from my face. "You know how old I am," I said, simply. His hand gripped my thigh, I guess he didn't believe me. "I'm nineteen," I told him, looking at the ground. His grip became tighter.
"How old were you when we met?" He demanded, I stared at him. I didn't want to answer, my lips refused to open. "Seventeen, you were seventeen, right?" He looks up at me, his other had holding my chin. The fingernail marks were still there from our encounter, his fingers traced them.
My hand reached for his wrist, tears beginning to form in my eyes. I couldn't, wouldn't shouldn't cry in front of him, he'll see me as weak and pathetic - like always. "I'm sorry, Isaac, I am so sorry I lied." I told him, pulling his hand away from my face. He smiled, or what seemed like a smile. "I think we should just end it here," I suggested.
He looked taken back, his smile turning into a frown. He brushed some hair from my face as he leaned in closer. The space between us closing. His breath hit my face, almost making me lose control. Despite the names, the arguments and the hate, I felt like I needed him. His hand on the back of my neck, pulling me forwards him. There was nothing but pure lust within him, nothing but pure lust in the kiss. His thumb stroking my cheekbone, his hand on my neck applying more pressure.
I broke away from him, staring into his eyes. This wasn't how I planned my life. I was kissing a married man, it was wrong. "I can't do this anymore," I breathed, shaking my head. He chuckled, laying kisses along my jawline. I put my hand on his arm, sighing, pushing his away. "I-I'm serious, Isaac."
His hand reached to cover mine, a smile on his lips. "You're mine, Anastasia, don't forget that," he told me, his hand squeezing mine. "There's no way out now." I watched him as he stood up, bending down to place a kiss on my cheek. Act like we're a normal couple. "I'll be in touch, baby." He turned and walked away.
My eyes didn't leave his back until he was too far for me to see. "Baby?" I muttered, also standing up. Joyfulness and guilt rising up in me at the same time. I would never be his baby, he already had one.
I looked up from the ground, and notice him walking towards me. My heart skipped a beat as he caught me staring. He looked pissed, his feet hitting the ground with force, angry words probably spewing from his mouth. He came closer to me, a look of pure disgust in his eyes. I stood up, walking to meet him. "Isaac-" His finger on my lips cut me off.
His hand reached for me, taking me back to the bench. I sat back down, him next to me. "Anastasia, how old are you?" He asked, his hand on my thigh. I looked at him, my eyes wide. Since I had met him, this had been the second time he had asked me. I lied the first time. "Answer me, Stasia," he ordered, calling me by my nickname.
I chuckled slightly, brushing some hair from my face. "You know how old I am," I said, simply. His hand gripped my thigh, I guess he didn't believe me. "I'm nineteen," I told him, looking at the ground. His grip became tighter.
"How old were you when we met?" He demanded, I stared at him. I didn't want to answer, my lips refused to open. "Seventeen, you were seventeen, right?" He looks up at me, his other had holding my chin. The fingernail marks were still there from our encounter, his fingers traced them.
My hand reached for his wrist, tears beginning to form in my eyes. I couldn't, wouldn't shouldn't cry in front of him, he'll see me as weak and pathetic - like always. "I'm sorry, Isaac, I am so sorry I lied." I told him, pulling his hand away from my face. He smiled, or what seemed like a smile. "I think we should just end it here," I suggested.
He looked taken back, his smile turning into a frown. He brushed some hair from my face as he leaned in closer. The space between us closing. His breath hit my face, almost making me lose control. Despite the names, the arguments and the hate, I felt like I needed him. His hand on the back of my neck, pulling me forwards him. There was nothing but pure lust within him, nothing but pure lust in the kiss. His thumb stroking my cheekbone, his hand on my neck applying more pressure.
I broke away from him, staring into his eyes. This wasn't how I planned my life. I was kissing a married man, it was wrong. "I can't do this anymore," I breathed, shaking my head. He chuckled, laying kisses along my jawline. I put my hand on his arm, sighing, pushing his away. "I-I'm serious, Isaac."
His hand reached to cover mine, a smile on his lips. "You're mine, Anastasia, don't forget that," he told me, his hand squeezing mine. "There's no way out now." I watched him as he stood up, bending down to place a kiss on my cheek. Act like we're a normal couple. "I'll be in touch, baby." He turned and walked away.
My eyes didn't leave his back until he was too far for me to see. "Baby?" I muttered, also standing up. Joyfulness and guilt rising up in me at the same time. I would never be his baby, he already had one.