Obsessed by Ever Lilac
2
Stanmore
Close up. Face to face. Finally, and a shudder moves through my body. For months I’ve been waiting for this. Waiting to be in close proximity to her. The woman, that is all mine. But she doesn’t know it yet and I tell myself not to push her.
I even put on a tracksuit to look more non-threatening and it seems to have worked. She let me in after all, didn’t she?
At the first sight of her, casually at home, casually dressed in a tight dress I was overwhelmed by an urge to mark her. Sink my teeth into her graceful neck, just to feel her pulse jitter. Her guard is down, defenses low and I`m working hard to hide how much that pleases me.
It pleases me that she trusted me so much the moment she saw me. And there is nobody on this earth, she can trust more than me. Her hands are delicate and frail but she’s got me in an iron grip. Whatever she wants from me, she’ll get it. No questions asked, nothing required in return.
But everything, all of her is wanted.
I listen to her talk as we walk down the staircase, her voice making me feel like pure air is sinking down into my lungs and every time she throws a look over her shoulder to give me a sweet smile, it makes my chest swell.
She doesn’t know what she means to me, the painful need she makes me feel in my bones. The girl has been living rent free in my mind ever since I saw one of her concerts a couple of months ago. I’m not much for music, or concerts, or crowds but her face was up on a poster.
It was the face that made me walk inside, those green eyes with that secret glimmer in them, the dimples in her cheeks... but it was she who put a spell on me. In that concert hall I could barely breathe, feeling like I for the first time had been brought to life again.
The colors seemed brighter, the sounds loud and clear and my body started buzzing. After that I was a man obsessed, constantly plotting how to get closer to her, how to get her to say hello to me. To smile at me.
I’ve kept an eye on her, learning a thing or two. On one side she’s one of the most passionate, hardworking women I’ve ever seen, playing so ferociously on her cello like she doesn’t care if her fingers bleed.
On the other side she’s a little spoiled, her manager doing her grocery shopping, buying her clothes and that annoying manager is always by her side, like a yapping Chihuahua whenever Amber is out. Getting close to her was impossible.
The only time she’s out without her manager is when she jogs in the woods. But I couldn’t stop her there, not wanting to scare her. I was running out of ideas when I got a google alert that she had put up an ad for a roommate.
I jumped at the chance, going frantic at the thought that she might reject me and accept someone else. She didn’t. Answering my prayers, just like I will answer hers.
“You’re a brave man, Stanmore...I mean Stan,” she muses, opening a door, “for choosing to live in a basement.”
“And you’re a brave girl. For letting a man stay in your basement.”
Amber snickers, but despite the laughter its obvious something is up with her. The reddened edges around her eyes, the way she looks like she’s carrying around a weight. I want to lift that weight off, comfort her.
I want to make her feel good.
“It’s not much,” she says, glancing at me, “changed your mind yet?”
“It’s perfect,” I answer and it’s true. The naked walls, the pipes up in the ceiling and the small window remind me of my childhood. I lived in similar conditions, for years all the way up into my late teens without child protective services ever noticing.
“Do you think the bed will fit,” Amber asks, “it won’t be too small for your size?”
She blushes at her words, glancing at the door like she should give me some privacy but that’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want any privacy from her. If it was my choice she’d be by my side at all times.
“Let’s try it out,” I say, jumping down on the bed and it lets out such a whine under my weight that Amber puts a hand in front of her mouth, her eyes widening in distress.
“It’s pretty old, forgot to tell you that. Maybe you won’t be able to sleep at night?”
I shrug, putting my arms under my head. “The sound doesn’t bother me. As long as it doesn’t bother you?”
Her hand traces the wall. “Won’t be able to hear anything. The basement is sound isolated.”
My brows rise. “Sound isolated?”
“Mhm,” she murmurs, shooting me a curious glance, “you’re from Colorado aren’t you?”
Tensing, I just nod because I don’t feel good lying to her. I’m not from Colorado, I’m from here and I gave up my apartment in the city to move in with her. The thing about me needing a place to stay because I found a new job, was something I made up to seem less suspicious.
“You don’t have an accent,” she continues and I clear my throat.
“My parents were from Chicago,” I answer because that’s not a lie at least.
Her eyes go to mine in pity. “Were?”
“Car accident. Old, wooden bridge. River. They didn’t survive.”
But I did. I was there with them, held my mother’s hand until the pain in my lungs from holding my breath under water, got too great and I managed to wiggle free and swim up to the surface. They didn’t.
I was eleven at the time and lived on my own ever since. No relatives, nothing. Just me in the basement of our old house, living on scraps from the neighbors thrown away food like a rat.
“I’m so sorry,” Amber murmurs, that secret glimmer in her eyes getting replaced by compassion, “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I don’t mind it when you ask,” I rasp and her eyes arrest on mine, something passing between us that makes her all jittery.
“I should let you get settled. When you’re done, maybe you could come up and we’ll have lunch...or well, maybe that’s brunch.” Taking a deep breath, I watch her cheeks turn pink and then she turns around. “See you soon.” Smile. Dimple. “Roomie...”
Rising in bed, my fists tighten and I almost reach out for her but she’s already gone. My heart starts pumping and I rub a hand over my face. Relax. She’s still here. Just upstairs and within my reach.
Closer than she’s ever been.
****
She never wears her hair up, always lets it coil in thick, brown ringlets between her shoulder blades. She always wears it down, like she doesn’t want me to get to her neck. I stalk over to her as she has her back turned to me.
My footsteps are soundless and she doesn’t notice me, humming a song to herself that for some reason makes me feel drowsy, like I’m underwater with her.
She jerks, and I realize that I’m brushing against her and she turns around with a surprised look on her face, before her eyes go hooded, her gaze going down to my mouth.
“Ah...didn’t see you there. “ She bites her lip and her mouth is neither too big nor too small. Perfect. “You sure unpacked fast.”
That’s because I hurried, not wanting to waste any time with her. This is my first time being this close, my whole body spattering with animated energy but I try to hide it, shoving my hands in my pockets and casually lean back.
“Didn’t bring much,” I answer. “You said it yourself.”
“Think I did.” Her eyes dart and she looks like she has something she’s hesitant to say on her tongue. “Were you smelling my hair?”
Her voice is breathy, like the thought of me doing something like that excites her. It excites me too.
“No,” I answer, giving her a relaxed, charming smile. But I was. And she smells like sugar and cinnamon and once she’s allowed me in, I’ll bury my whole face in her.
“Of course,” she shakes her head as if she’s being silly, “I don’t even know why I said that.” Walking around the kitchen island, she hands me a plate. “You like vego tacos, right?”
I’ve never had them before. “Love them.”
Smiling, she hands me my utensils and shoves forth a couple of small bowls. “All I had was vegetables. I need to go and tell my manager to go to the grocery store.” She glances at me. “She spoils me like that, because usually I’m too busy to do it myself.”
Biting into the food, I reply, “I’ll do it for you if you want.”
She bites into her food too, her bites so small it makes me want to feed her myself to make sure she’s satiated. “That’s okay. Gina’s got it covered.”
“Maybe her services aren’t needed, now that you have me.” I say it casually. Suggestively and she stops chewing, glancing at me.
“Maybe you’re right,” she murmurs then smiles at me, making me feel like I’m growing taller and heavier in my seat. “I think I’m going to like having you around here.”
“Think I’m going to like it more.” So much more.
Her eyes flicker and when our legs brush against each other under the table, she doesn’t immediately pull away. She lets it linger, causing a current to rise up and finally explode in my groin. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stop myself from touching her.
It’s already taking a toll on me.
Taking a sip out of my coke, I ask, “What’s the neighborhood like?”
Amber squirms. “Pretty prissy unfortunately. Rich, snobby people but at least they never play music that loud and they never complain when I do.” Grazing her lip with her teeth, she says, “Think you told me you were a mason...?”
“Yes ma’am,” I answer, making her burst out into a short laugh. “It’s in my blood. My father was a mason and my grandfather before him.”
There’s something satisfying about using bricks, or my preferred favorites, natural stone to build walls, fences, chimneys. Its hard work, but it’s exactly what I need. Building walls that can be torn down, when my own can’t.
Except by...her if she’s willing.
Amber nods with interest while I keep making small talk, but I leave some things out. Such as that I own a decent amount of property and definitely don’t need to be sharing house. She’ll find out all that about me soon enough but right now, while she’s still testing the waters, I don’t want to make her distrustful.
After we finish eating, I grab our plates to go and wash up when she stops me, but I shake my head.
“I insist. You made the food, I’ll clean the dishes.”
“My manager would love you...” she muses and then a shadow crosses her face. “I should probably go and practice on my music.”
But she doesn’t move, sitting in her chair like a wooden doll and I throw her a worried glance. She wraps her arms around her body, swallowing and flickers of insecurity start playing in her eyes. I don’t like them there, they have no place being with her.
I’ll chase them away if I have to.
“Amber...?” I say softly and she twitches, looking at me and embarrassment floods her face.
“Right...I’m totally not procrastinating by the way.”
“Not judging.” Why would I when I know that she’s amazing. When I know that she’s so much better than she gives herself credit for.
Tilting her head to the side, she murmurs, “No, you don’t seem like the judgey type.”
Don’t think I have the right to. It’s not exactly like I have a halo around my head. Amber does, on the other hand.
“I’m not,” I answer, finishing up with the dishes and I cross my arms over my chest. “You?”
The question makes her fidget. “Sometimes...but I suppose it depends on the situation.”
Will she forgive me when she finds out about me? When she finds out about the lengths I’ll go to make her mine? Will she be as blindingly forgiving toward me as I want her to be?
“How do you feel about people who do things that seem immoral in other people’s eyes?”
A frown forms between her dark brows. “Immoral? As long as they don’t cross a line, then I guess I don’t mind.”
I need to know where she draws that line. Need to know, so that I don’t step over it.
“And what’s that line?”
She runs her fingers through her hair, nonchalant, not knowing how important this is to me. “Hurting someone.”
Fuck, I’ve hurt a lot of people. I’ve been entangled with people who were better left alone. Criminals, gangsters, murderers. But the deserved it. Besides, it’s in the past. History.
And what matters is my future with her. A future where she’s all mine and everything that entails.
Her mouth pulls to her side and she looks at me with playful eyes. “Why are you asking me this? Are you planning on doing something immoral?”
Not planning. I already have.
For her. Anything and I mean anything, for her.