Forbidden

Amaya

As soon as the door was shut behind me, he pushed through it. I let out a yelp of annoyance as the door busted open and swiveled on my heel to see what the fuck he wanted.

“How can I help you?” I demanded, furious that he was coming into this place like this. My room was meant to be my space. That was how I understood it. And I had worked so hard keeping him out of here, keeping him at arm’s length, keeping him so far from me emotionally that I could begin to convince myself there was nothing going on, not really. I planted my hands on my hips as he stood there, chest rising and falling quickly, trying to think of something to say.

“Well?” I prompted him.

“You need to talk to me,” he shot back finally. He was never much good at coming up with what he needed to say at the time he needed to say it, but he seemed to be filling in the blanks a little with everything else, piecing things together slowly but surely. I could see it in his eyes, those feelings for me beginning to swell