Chapter nine

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I close my eyes as I lean against the wall next to the bathroom door behind which August is currently cleaning her top.

Why the fuck am I still standing here? Like an idiot. Waiting for her to what? Come out of the bathroom, give me a thumbs up, a slap on the shoulder, and a casual 'thanks'? She doesn't need me anymore. She needed the bathroom and I helped her find it. My mission is done. So why am I still standing here?

I don't know.

I should go downstairs, pick up a beer and cross my fingers that I won't bump into her again. Because if I do, I don't know how much longer I can keep the wall between us standing. It's wobbling already, perhaps from the way her eyes can light up a fire in me, or perhaps the alcohol is poisoning my mind.

That. That is the problem.

Scratch the beer, I should sober up. I should definitely fucking sober up because the longer I'm around her the more she fogs my brain with impulses I refuse to give in to.

A loud rumbling sound followed by a muffled curse word snatches my attention away from my train of thought.

I knock on the door twice before calling out her name. I wait, but there's no answer. A frown forms itself on my face as I knock again.

"You okay in there?" Although she yells she is fine, I hear another muffled curse and I shake my head at her stubbornness. The rumbling stops and I lean closer as if that would magically help me understand what's going on. The moment I want to call her name again, the door slowly opens and her small head pops out.

"Hi." The tone in her voice combined with her sheepish smile is a dead giveaway she needs my help to find the laundry detergent. I gave her instructions when she walked in but maybe the cabinet isn't as structured anymore as I remember it to be this morning. I could ask her if my guess is right but I greet her back instead.

"Hi."

"So..." She trails off and I know she's waiting for me to burst in and give her the laundry detergent, but I don't budge.

"So." I mimic her, not giving her anything more than she's giving me.

"I don't think I'm blind but this cabinet is making me doubt myself." As soon as the sentence is out of her mouth, she flashes me a pleading, wide-toothed smile. Then, she opens the door wider, inviting me in. I fight the grin pulling on the corner of my mouth by clenching my teeth. The words to mock her for not wanting to directly ask for help linger on my lips and even though the temptation to bring out the fire in her eyes is more than present, I decide against it.

Silently I walk past the door she's standing behind and I stop in front of the sink filled with water and a white top.

Her white top.

I blink and swallow the lump in my throat away. For fuck's sake, she's not wearing her top.

She's standing behind me, and I have to pretend it does nothing to me. I have to pretend I don't want to turn around and do something impulsive, just to show her how wrong she was. I have to pretend we were nothing because that's what it was to her.

So instead of turning around, I tilt my head towards the messy cabinet above the sink. One day, I'm seriously going to hit Finnick on the head for making everything in our house part of his mess. Everywhere I go, I find something of him. Whether it's a lost sock, his shoes, cookie wrappers, or even his wallet. That man leaves a trail of his existence behind and he's lucky I'm living with him because otherwise, he'd find all his lost stuff thrown on the driveway with a nice 'fuck you' card signed by Matteo. Not in a nemesis kind of way but rather in a fatherly kind of way to teach him to be less untidy. Which at this moment would come in handy.

I screen the cabinet. From shaving cream to deodorant, a first aid kit, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and then the travel-size bottle of laundry detergent.

Unbelievable.

"You're blind, for sure." I mock her as I absently turn around to see her reaction and I stop dead in my tracks. My grin slightly falters as I see her upper body wrapped in a towel. Naked shoulders, no bra straps.

Fucking hell.

I know she isn't deliberately trying to drive me insane, or maybe she is. Hell, I don't even know anymore at this point.

She continues the conversation walking toward me to stand in front of the sink. "Ha-ha, you're very funny and so very not helpful." She puts her hands on her hips and lets her eyes scan all the shelves again.

"Oh, it was my help that you needed?" I lean back against the wall and watch her fight the urge to ask for, what she would probably call, a little assistance.

"I don't." She shoots back glancing over her shoulder to make sure I understood.

Such a bad liar.

"Yeah, sure. I can see that you're absolutely fine on your own." I know I'm poking the bear with my sarcastic comments but I can't stop. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to get under her skin. Her sigh flies through the room and she spins around. Her eyes are narrow, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, and her brown waves are covering most of her bare shoulders. I should feel threatened, but anyone with eyes in their sockets can see that all she is, is a cute little bomb on the verge of exploding and I can't wait.

"Do you feel this?" She holds up two fingers and moves them between us. Unimpressed and amused I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm throwing daggers at you with my eyes."

"You're trying to kill me?" I gasp theatrically, "I'm offended."

"You should be." She spins back around to continue her search and I bite back a laugh.

"I just have one question, though." I push myself off the wall and take a step closer. Our eyes lock in the mirror, mine filled with playfulness, her filled with defiance.

"What?" She sneers at me and it makes me grin even more.

Although I know I'm playing with a ticking bomb, I can't stop. I don't want to, even though every cell in my body screams to walk away now that I still can. "How can you accurately hit me when you can't see me? You know, the sudden blindness and all."

"Has anyone ever told you to shut up?" She swiftly spins around, her eyes reduced to two straight lines.

"You did, plenty of time." I shoot back before realizing the weight of my words. They cause another crack in the already damaged dam holding back memories.

Fuck me.

Silence crashes down, her eyes are glued on mine and she stumbles back until she hits the sink. My heart is pounding, my vision blurry as memories of her flood back into my mind.

Avoid the topic. Save the conversation.

I clear my throat as I lean forward. My gaze is still locked on hers and her irises go wide, but I'm already too deep into the motion to stop reaching for the laundry soap. The bottle that was going to save the conversation, create distance between us because she'd have to turn around to clean her top. The thing that was going to be a barrier. A pause from the tension, one I desperately need to sort my thoughts.

However, now it's the reason her strawberry scent fills my nostrils. It's the reason my eyes flicker to her lips as the minimal amount of space between us tempts me to close the distance.

For fuck's sake, don't even think about it. Don't you dare do it.

I tear my eyes away from hers, grab the bottle from the shelve and hold it out to her. I take the smallest step back to create more room between us, hoping the extra inches would give me the ability to put her out of my mind. However, all I can focus on is how she didn't stop me. How she didn't push me away. I try to grasp the why behind it but not a single part of my mind is coherent right now. My head is torn between the possibility and past, the desire and the pain.

"You should just rub it in, I think." My voice is hoarse as if the moment had ripped out my throat for a second, only to stitch it back the other way around.

I mentally slap myself a hundred times. Smooth dude. So fucking smooth.

"Thanks." She takes the bottle from my hands, yet she doesn't move. She stands there looking up at me as if it's the first time she gazes into my eyes and my mind screams for her to move because I can't.

Please, August, push me away. Tell me to walk away, to save my heart, to stop playing with the little bomb that carries your name.

Yet she doesn't.

She doesn't push me away. She doesn't tell me to leave. She doesn't save my heart and she doesn't stop fidgeting with the grenade in her hand.

She pulls the pin.

Waits in silence.

And every atom in my body explodes as she steps closer and crashes her lips on mine.


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