I Don't Want to Fall in Love... With You

Sitting all alone in my room, cross-legged on my bed, my hands were shaking as I stared at the highlighted message projecting back at me through my mobile screen.

' I think it's time we spoke.'

Like, what? Elijah and I had agreed that our kiss was a mistake and it would never happen again. We'd addressed it then and there that making out was not high on our lists of things to do.

Therefore, reading this text, I was perplexed.

So, I replied with an indifferent 'okay'. He didn't take much time to answer, telling me he'd see me out front and we'd take a drive in his car.

Heart hammering like it had been replaced with that of a mouse, I got up and checked myself out in the mirror. I was still wearing my kitten sweater and rainbow leggings. Should I change or would that look silly? I mean, he had already seen me in them from this morning.

I flung on a fluffy yellow sweater instead. Sure, it made me look like Big Bird, but anything was better than trying to have a serious conversation and being unable to focus because my torso was making funny faces at him.

I patted down my hair, even though there was no need. I even tried gussying myself up, preparing myself for the worst.

But what could possibly be worse than what we had already done?

Discarding my head free of all troublesome thoughts, I only slightly jumped when I heard the honk of a car horn. It was another way to tell that his vehicle had cost quite a fortune, the horn and the exhaust were almost like death to the ears.

Not giving my appearance another thought, I darted for the front door. Before I opened it, though, I did a few more breathing exercises, reminding myself once more that this meant nothing.

I jumped into the passenger seat without sparing him a look. Who knew what could occur?

There was a brief silence that was filled up only by the outside world. Where ravens chirped and flew with their mates, and the start of rain hit the windshield.

Elijah began driving.

We hit the country roads when I piped up, nearing the middle of the car when the darkness began to loom. I hadn't noticed it had gotten dark. My mother would be in bed now.

"How far are we going?"

"Just for a drive; clear our heads." He said. Stiffly, may I add.

I sat back, finally gathering up enough courage to look at him. He clutched the wheel so hard his knuckles were white, the veins in his arms pulsating. And yet, he kept his expression neutral, as if driving with me to the countryside was perfectly normal.

Despite the peace of mind venturing this route usually gave me, I was having trouble thinking straight.

Finally, he parked by the side of the road. He kept his front lights and tailcoats on, just to be safe. Soon enough, the only sound that could be distinguished was the uneven pacing of our breathing.

What was wrong with this picture?

I resorted to fiddling with my hands. In the darkness, I could no longer make out his face, where the dimples lay and how his eyes danced when they looked at me. Now, I couldn't tell if he was even facing my direction. The only sense of him I could see was his shirt, which was so white it would've been blinding any other time.

I cleared my throat.

"You brought me out here... Don't you have anything to say?"

That came out harsher than intended, but I wouldn't apologize for it, either.

He copied, but didn't face me. I briefly wondered why before I thought better of speaking my thoughts.

"I just... I wanted to think things over... with you." He added, as if that would piece things together. It didn't. He must've noticed, because he carried on. "We were drunk, judgement was hazy and it happened. It was just a fluke, right?"

I understood Mr Quinn's point. If people were to hear about our encounter, he'd be publicly shamed – perhaps even thrown in jail. For seventeen years, I had grown up next to this man, thought of him as a male role model for a while... a history like ours couldn't be jeopardized over a lapse in judgement. A mistake.

Although my feelings for him had dissipated, I wasn't a child. If they reappeared, somehow, it would no longer just be categorized as a silly crush. They'd hit back harder and more real than I ever thought they could be.

And the last thing I wanted to do at my age was fall for someone.

Besides him, I hadn't really been infatuated with anyone. Maybe when I was in kindergarten and Thom Phillips proved that he could very well stuff three full Twinkies in his mouth.

Dating had never really been on my mind, unless you counted hoping to avoid it. Of course, like everyone else, I hoped to one day settle down with a husband, children and an army of pets. Exempt for Mr Quinn, I'd never put a face to the body.

But he wasn't a cut out. He was a real person – and one I could never have.

My face heating up, I hurried to open the car, hearing him scream at me but not truly listening.

I closed it after me, walking into the field, rain washing down on me immediately. The grass slashing my legs and face as I waded through. I didn't half care that my shoes were getting covered in mud. The dirt was squishy under my feet, the muddy water trickling into my shoe and turning my socks brown.

I would have ventured further, had I not felt the rough vice of a hand capturing my arm.

I turned round and there was Elijah, rain pouring down on him, looking just as perfect as Gene Kelly. His shirt was soaked all the way through, emphasizing his fairytale body. My fingertips itched to reach out and stroke it, until he purred.

"What are you doing? Are you insane? It's freezing out here!"

He wasn't lying. I hadn't noticed the temperature until I stopped moving.

I wiped my face, trying to see past the rainfall to his face. Normally, I would have given anything for Elijah to run after me and fawn all over me.

But this wasn't any normal day.

"What do you care? Our kiss was a fluke." I couldn't contain myself. The anger was seeping out, the droplets of my emotions.

His brow furrowed.

"It can't ever be anything else, Anya. You're seventeen and a minor. Even if there were feelings, I couldn't act on them. Do you know how much trouble I would be in?"

I rolled my eyes. I was honestly getting tired of hearing the same speech.

"Stop saying that. Stop saying I'm seventeen like it changes things."

"Because it does."

"But it doesn't have to! My age does not define me. I get it, we don't work, but don't blame it on my age. Don't ever lean on it, do you know how insulting that is? Just admit it: you don't want to kiss me again because it scares you."

He blinked, the water on his lashes falling to his rising skin. There, it only remained for a few seconds, because his flesh wouldn't allow it residence. It absorbed shortly after landing.

Even though it was dark and cold and my clothes clung to my shape, as if turning me into a prune, I was hot. Every time I moved a muscle, there was nothing more I wanted to do than throw this jumper into the mud.

"Anya, get in the car. Please."

I stomped my foot down, splash back hitting my legs and maybe a little on my face too. I couldn't differentiate between it and the falling sky.

"Admit it."

"Anya, I will not be held responsible if you fall ill." Elijah's tone was firm and final. The kind he used with employees at the company, but that was our problem. I wasn't one of his workers he could boss around. I'd literally put my foot down.

Shaking my head, I sashayed past him and headed for the roads. I'd walk home. I'd fucking act like the child he claimed if he insisted on denying me the truth. I knew the answer, but there was nothing wrong with wanting a little reassurance.

His call went unanswered as I met with the car again. The crimson flash of the taillights highlighted the lines of the road. And, instead of jumping into the vehicle, I turned right, back in the direction we came.

The familiar feel of his hand on my arm spun me round once more, until I was looking up into those eyes. Red had poured itself in there, the only color on his entirety.

"Admit it." I whispered.

I would've said it again, had I not been cut off by that same swollen feeling of his mouth claiming possession of mine.

Dear father, forgive me, I thought... and then I gave into temptation.