Chapter 99 The Vague space
Annabel was lying in bed with the heavy comforter pulled up to her chin but it didn't make her feel any better.
In the quiet darkness, her mind was restless and sharp. She saw a replay of the recent events instead of plaster when she looked up at the ceiling.
She caught a glimpse of Fred's face. A few inches off.
His eyes had been the entire world in the abrupt, excruciating moment of her awakening and the moonlight had etched the sharp planes of his jaw and cheekbones.
He was wide dark and displaying an emotion she had never seen him display before.
There was no denying that it had been intense and pure yearning.
She turned over on her side and punched the pillow several times. A slow, warm seep of certainty filled her stomach as she realized
“He was going to kiss me.”
When their eyes locked, there was no other reason why he had been positioned that way, why he had frozen, why his breath had faltered.
Wiping something off her face was his weak excuse, a last-minute awkward attempt to appear less intelligent than she actually was.
Her heart began pounding nervously and slowly against her ribs as she turned over on her back.
What made him go away?
That was a knotty annoying question. She was certain that a sudden electrical charge between them had awakened her and the desire had been a physical sensation.
So why did he back away so quickly in a panic and why did his movements become rigid as he did so like a soldier fleeing enemy fire?
It was a foolish, giddy leap of thought. Something more profound than friendship was suggested by the quiet concern, the unwavering presence and the way his eyes frequently lingered on her for too long when he believed she wasn't looking.
The way he had hurried out, leaving the room suddenly empty.
A deliberate rejection of the moment he had just created it felt like a door being slammed.
A patch of the floor was illuminated by the moonlight as she turned to face the window.
He was pacing the living room downstairs and she could practically feel him.
A silent force field between her and sleep appeared to be created by his restless energy.
Being a man who had maintained boundaries, Fred had recently felt a spectacular disruption to his meticulously planned life.
She ran her finger along the floral design on her duvet. He had carried her up the stairs with a tenderness that said volumes and he had laid her on the bed as though she were made of fragile glass.
What was he afraid of? Carson?
There was a long sigh from her. She detested the uncertainty.
He was making them fight in silence which she detested. She tried to force herself to fall asleep by closing her eyes but his image was too clear.
She pictured how his lips would have felt against hers and the electric shock that would have hit her.
The kiss wouldn’t have been tender and kind. Not with his eyes burning so intensely.
She forced herself to sit up, opening her eyes. She felt a peculiar combination of agitation and quiet intense hope that kept her wide awake.
The truth was now out there, a living breathing thing suspended in the space between their two rooms regardless of how many doors he closed or how many embarrassing lies he told.
She returned to her position, nestling into the pillows. He couldn't conceal his heart even if he ran.
A little smile touched her lips as she gripped the comforter tighter.
Now that the tension was exquisite, she knew with calm, absolute certainty that she would be the one to make the next move.
There was a distant forgotten lullaby humming in the city. Although she didn't go to sleep, she also stopped tossing and turning.
She lay motionless, relishing the thoughts, letting a fresh hopeful hope blossom in the silent shadows.
Suddenly the soft mattress felt too warm and too confined and Annabel shifted uneasily.
Once more she fell over and buried her face in her pillow's cool cotton.
She was aware that she shouldn't be experiencing this. Her job, the rigorous schedule that had worn her out to the point of fainting on the couch was supposed to be her main focus.
Willing the whirling thoughts to stop, she pressed her palms against her temples. She was screaming a warning from the sensible practical side of her brain.
Fred was a mystery, a man whose actual nature was always carefully concealed beneath exteriors of cool professionalism and subdued helpfulness.
She was aware that to like him was to agree to fight his unbeatable control in a hard and hopeless war of attrition.
She had recalled his response. His eyes had flashed with sheer panic when she woke up.
It was the fear of being noticed and exposed, not the fear of being caught in an awkward situation.
It must have been something heavy, something that genuinely justified his self-imposed seclusion but what kind of secret was so deep that it caused him to shudder at intimacy?
But knowing about his internal conflict only made her more fascinated and gave the mystery she felt driven to solve a new dimension.
With the hair pushed back from her face she sat up once more.
Steering clear of the moonlit patch on the floor, she went to the window and peered out.
The city was a sea of uncaring lights in the distance. She was up here by herself in the silence engrossed in the silent drama taking place one floor below.
Her own restless, agitated energy was almost palpable in the vibration of his pacing.
The cool glass pressed against her forehead.
There was a strong urge to go downstairs in order to break the absurd silence. She wanted to confront him once more and demand a truthful response.
She knew he could give her the truth because she deserved it.
She pulled the blanket tight as she slid back under the covers. Although her rational side cautioned that the fear was real, her desired reality overpowered it.
She also stopped tossing and turning and just looked up at the ceiling.
Did he like me? She asked, silently…hopefully.