Chapter 3 CHAPTER
Chapter 003
Emilia's POV
The hammering of my heart seems insane. Last night, I could still feel his touch heating things. Even though I'm just seated here attempting to concentrate, my skin seems to be on fire. My head keeps returning to that point; I cannot concentrate on anything else. I tell myself I'm seeing things and am overanalyzing it. But our conflict is like a dense cloud hanging above us. I hardly know how to breathe.
It's hard not to sense this odd charge when he's close now. My stomach tightens every time he enters the room or when I gaze at him for a moment longer than usual. That feeling terrifies me as well. Our actions are what? This is a developing relationship between us.
I attempted to study this whole morning. I tried very hard, but nothing seemed to hold. Every time I looked up from my textbook, my attention strayed to him—Niklas, the man who has been around my entire life, but now, everything feels different. Just now everything feels different. I am different. I'm not sure whether I hate it or like it.
His voice from the corridor seems to me as though everything else in the house vanishes. My heart skips a beat as I freeze, then I will myself to keep my eyes on the page. I want him not to see me in a disoriented, bewildered way. I want him to be ignorant of what is actually going on in my brain.
"Emilia?" He shouts from the doorway in a low, calm voice, seemingly unaware of how his words cause my pulse to race. "You want to pick up some coffee?"
I pause just for a moment. No is what I could say. Though I could tell him I'm busy, the thought of being alone with him hurts something inside of me. I thus ignore the book, get up, and nod. "Sure, coffee sounds great."
I follow him out of the room, pulling on my jacket. Though I'm not sure if that's the nerves or anything else, my steps seem weighty, like I'm trudging into thick mud. When we need to get away from the noise of the house, we head to the coffee shop right down the street. Still, everything seems different this time. Between us lies this unseen wall. I am sensing it.
We settle at a corner table, and I find it rather peaceful. Usually, we would be giggling over something silly, but not right now. Currently, it is just quiet. He stirs his coffee while his eyes flit over the room, never catching mine. "Everything perfect?" Seeking to break the discomfort, I ask.
Niklas looks up at me, a flutter of something in his eyes, then he turns hastily away. Indeed, he is simply contemplating the situation.
Though the words became stuck in my throat, I wanted to ask him about last night and what occurred. If he doesn't share the same feelings, what would be the next step? Could I be simply imagining it all? Suppose I am reading too much into this?
"You've been... distant lately," I add, trying to gauge whether he is feeling the same way I am.
His eyes remaining fixed on his coffee, he moves in his seat. "I simply feel fatigued. Nothing.
He's not being honest; I can tell. His shoulders are tense, his jaw closed, as if he's hiding something from me. Something huge. "Niklas, you know that you can tell me anything. Right?”
At last he glances up, but his eyes seem dark, and my heart drops. Under his breath he murmurs, "It's not that simple."
Though I'm not sure what that implies, I can't ignore the way his comments twist in my chest. "What is not straightforward?"
He doesn't immediately respond, and for a moment, I ponder whether he is simply choosing not to. He then shrugs, seeming uneasy. "My past relationships were not simple. Lately, I've been reflecting on my past relationships.
The air between us thickens abruptly and smells unspoken words. I want to probe him further for additional specifics, but his demeanor makes me believe I would be better off not asking. He is concealing something.
Still, what?
I find it intolerable as the silence lingers. Niklas, you cannot continue to exclude me. You're not keeping track of everything that's transpired between us.
He looks at me intently, and for a brief moment, it feels as if time has stopped. Though I have no idea what he sees in my eyes, whatever it is causes his face to change. Something in him starts to crack, like a wall he constructed around himself.
And then his hand brushes across mine before I even know what is happening. The sensation is slight, yet it's as if an electric current surges through my skin. My breath freezes, and I stop looking at our hands, feeling the heat from his fingertips spread up my arm.
But he withdraws, his eyes avoiding mine like he is ashamed, before I can even grasp what is happening. He says, "sorry," his voice harsh.
I swallow, attempting to quiet the tempest inside me. I whisper, "It's fine," but it's not fine. It's anything but fine. The way his hand felt on mine, and how it made my body tingle, keeps me from sleeping. I cannot, however, probe him about it. I cannot bring it to reality.
Like he cannot sit there another second, he stands up. "We should head back."
I nod, following him out of the coffee shop, but the distance between us feels different now. I'm uncertain if the change stems from his touch or his behavior. I can sense it deeply in my bones.
We hardly talk back at the house. He goes upstairs, leaving me by myself with some thinking. I kept going back in my brain to the contact, the way he withdrew, as if it meant nothing when I knew it meant everything.
Ultimately, what does it all mean? Why did he hold back? Does he fear anything? Alternatively, is he simply covering something deeper from me?
I can't continue waiting for his next move. I need responses. I would like to know whether he shares my sentiments or whether I am merely kidding myself.
How long, though, can I continue to act as though nothing is happening between us? How much longer can I overlook the evident sparks between us before they become overwhelming?