My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
He kept his eyes trained on her features, mapping every time they changed and how they moved in conjunction with what she was saying. He stayed silent and kept the room cool.
“Well…” he spoke slowly, “indulge me. What is one of those ‘darkest moments?’“
I wanted to melt under his gaze. It was oddly comforting instead of intimidating. I felt as if he truly cared and was interested in what I had to say. I swallowed thickly, my heart still pounding with desire and need, and I wondered if Kai could hear it.
“My mom kidnapped me from my father when I was ten. She came and picked me up from a friend’s house. I got in the car, not understanding what was happening. We drove so long that we crossed state lines. We met up with a strange man. At least, he was strange to me. My mom knew him. They treated me nicely and bought me lots of toys. My mom asked me if I wanted to leave my dad and come live down here with her. I was having fun, and still didn’t understand, so I said yes. At night we went to an American Legion where I was the only child there and people were smoking and drinking at the bar. My mom let me use a pay phone to call my dad. Him sobbing on the other end was not something I expected. The sound of his voice is something that still haunts me to this day. We stayed overnight at a hotel, and I slept with my clothes on because that’s all I had. I don’t remember what happened when we came home. I don’t know why my dad didn’t press charges. I don’t know how, after a stunt like that, my parents are still together to this day. I want answers. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up something so traumatic when they are both so happy.”
My voice was raw and unemotional. My cheeks flushed as I felt utterly exposed now. Once again I wondered what Kai thought and what would happen next. Maybe he would slap me for talking too much. Maybe he would think I was a freak. Or maybe he would continue to sympathize with me. I tried to keep my body calm as I anxiously waited.
His eyes softened, still unblinking.
“It must be so horrible holding onto something that weighs on you so heavily.”
Kai scoots in his chair and straightens himself up without breaking their pinkie chain. After situating himself, he returned his focus to the girl sitting across from him.
“I hope one day that you can speak openly to your parents about this, or find some sort of peace. I understand what it’s like to hold onto pain from your parents.” He paused.
“If there’s anything I can urge you to do after we’re done here, talk to your parents. Make amends for yourself, while you still can.” He briefly looked down at the floor, but coughed and looked back up.
I was taken by surprise. I never expected to see you so emotional, and I wasn’t sure how to react. I watched as you looked at the floor and then scooted in closer to me. I shifted my feet under the table nervously, knocking them softly against yours. I cleared my throat before I continued.
“I’ll…I’ll try. To talk to them,” I said quietly and with a deep breath. “They leave for vacation this weekend. I’ll have the house to myself all week which will give me some time to think about I wanna approach this whenever they get back.” I casually but purposely mentioned having the house to myself, but I wasn’t really sure why. I looked away momentarily before leaning in closer to you.
“I’m sorry, Kai,” I began gently. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. I…I can leave you alone now if you want.” I gazed at you intensely, hoping your answer would be no.
“Good.”
He returned to his near-perfect posture, eyes locked back onto yours with an intensity that surpassed the way he watched you before. The empathetic features he bore melted away to reveal a statue. His pinky tightened as his eyebrows rose, giving off a distinct, ‘really, now?’ feeling.
“Why would you want to leave? We’ve barely started.”
The sudden hardening of your features frightened me. I almost yelped painfully when your pinky squeezed mine even harder. I felt as if I might lose blood circulation to it. But I didn’t say anything, not wanting to appear weak.
“I-I don’t want to leave,” I mumbled quietly, averting my eyes nervously. “I, um, just meant that, well, maybe you wanted to stop or something if-if I, uh, had taken things too far for you…” I trailed off, my cheeks heating up as I felt incredibly stupid right now. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear, you probably thought I was such an idiot right now.
His finger loosened slightly, just enough to regain any feeling you may have lost. His eyes, though, never moved.
“I am the furthest a person can go,” he proclaimed to the empty room behind you, “I am the end, the complete picture. Tell me,” he leaned in until his nose sat parallel to your intertwined fingers, “what’s the furthest you would go for a cause you’d believe in? How far does your loyalty reach?”
How do I even answer something like that?! I panicked.
Truth be told, it really depends on the cause. But I had a feeling that you wouldn’t like that answer so much. I thought a bit, my eyes darting around your basement as I did so.
Finally, I opened my mouth to speak. “If it was something I really, truly believed in with all my heart, I would give anything to see it through to the end. Even if it meant giving up my own life. Death doesn’t frighten me. So I wouldn’t be afraid to die for something/someone that meant more to me than myself.”
I swallowed, hardly breathing.
“As for loyalty…my loyalty knows no bounds,” I stated unblinkingly and without hesitation.
I stared at you, my cheeks red and my breathing shallow. Your intensity, your passion, threatened to swallow me whole. And I found myself not giving a shit if it did. To be able to let go of all of my past pain and trauma and lose myself in someone/something else, even if it meant dying, was oddly welcoming and comforting to me.
“What do you mean you’re the furthest one can go? What do you mean you’re ‘the end’, ‘the complete picture’?” I challenged you daringly, raising an eyebrow and smirking.
My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
He kept his eyes trained on her features, mapping every time they changed and how they moved in conjunction with what she was saying. He stayed silent and kept the room cool.
“Well…” he spoke slowly, “indulge me. What is one of those ‘darkest moments?’“
I wanted to melt under his gaze. It was oddly comforting instead of intimidating. I felt as if he truly cared and was interested in what I had to say. I swallowed thickly, my heart still pounding with desire and need, and I wondered if Kai could hear it.
“My mom kidnapped me from my father when I was ten. She came and picked me up from a friend’s house. I got in the car, not understanding what was happening. We drove so long that we crossed state lines. We met up with a strange man. At least, he was strange to me. My mom knew him. They treated me nicely and bought me lots of toys. My mom asked me if I wanted to leave my dad and come live down here with her. I was having fun, and still didn’t understand, so I said yes. At night we went to an American Legion where I was the only child there and people were smoking and drinking at the bar. My mom let me use a pay phone to call my dad. Him sobbing on the other end was not something I expected. The sound of his voice is something that still haunts me to this day. We stayed overnight at a hotel, and I slept with my clothes on because that’s all I had. I don’t remember what happened when we came home. I don’t know why my dad didn’t press charges. I don’t know how, after a stunt like that, my parents are still together to this day. I want answers. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up something so traumatic when they are both so happy.”
My voice was raw and unemotional. My cheeks flushed as I felt utterly exposed now. Once again I wondered what Kai thought and what would happen next. Maybe he would slap me for talking too much. Maybe he would think I was a freak. Or maybe he would continue to sympathize with me. I tried to keep my body calm as I anxiously waited.
His eyes softened, still unblinking.
“It must be so horrible holding onto something that weighs on you so heavily.”
Kai scoots in his chair and straightens himself up without breaking their pinkie chain. After situating himself, he returned his focus to the girl sitting across from him.
“I hope one day that you can speak openly to your parents about this, or find some sort of peace. I understand what it’s like to hold onto pain from your parents.” He paused.
“If there’s anything I can urge you to do after we’re done here, talk to your parents. Make amends for yourself, while you still can.” He briefly looked down at the floor, but coughed and looked back up.
I was taken by surprise. I never expected to see you so emotional, and I wasn’t sure how to react. I watched as you looked at the floor and then scooted in closer to me. I shifted my feet under the table nervously, knocking them softly against yours. I cleared my throat before I continued.
“I’ll…I’ll try. To talk to them,” I said quietly and with a deep breath. “They leave for vacation this weekend. I’ll have the house to myself all week which will give me some time to think about I wanna approach this whenever they get back.” I casually but purposely mentioned having the house to myself, but I wasn’t really sure why. I looked away momentarily before leaning in closer to you.
“I’m sorry, Kai,” I began gently. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. I…I can leave you alone now if you want.” I gazed at you intensely, hoping your answer would be no.
“Good.”
He returned to his near-perfect posture, eyes locked back onto yours with an intensity that surpassed the way he watched you before. The empathetic features he bore melted away to reveal a statue. His pinky tightened as his eyebrows rose, giving off a distinct, ‘really, now?’ feeling.
“Why would you want to leave? We’ve barely started.”
The sudden hardening of your features frightened me. I almost yelped painfully when your pinky squeezed mine even harder. I felt as if I might lose blood circulation to it. But I didn’t say anything, not wanting to appear weak.
“I-I don’t want to leave,” I mumbled quietly, averting my eyes nervously. “I, um, just meant that, well, maybe you wanted to stop or something if-if I, uh, had taken things too far for you…” I trailed off, my cheeks heating up as I felt incredibly stupid right now. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear, you probably thought I was such an idiot right now.
My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.
As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.
Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.
My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.
It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.
I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.
I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.
I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.
But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?
I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”
The rally had gone off without a single hitch. People were impassioned, attentive, inflamed as I riled them up. The cheers and applause that had carried through the town square were those of a campaign well on its way to success.
A call of my name captured my attention. It wasn’t unusual for my attention to be grabbed after a speech. Fans would rush forward to greet me and to ask for autographs like I was some sort of celebrity – a flattering thought, really – and reporters would practically kick their way through the gathering crowds just to ask a few more badgering questions to follow up what I had spoken about on the platform.
But this one was somehow different. It was less like the demanding call of the news station or the excited shrill of some young blue-haired woman, and it was more like someone genuinely interested in something. What that “something” was, I could only guess, but nevertheless it effectively captured my attention.
As I stepped off the stage, I was immediately swarmed with the typical crowd, but my eyes sought out the person who had called my name so urgently. Finally my gaze caught you weaving your way through to reach me. I continued tending to the usual crowd, answering a few questions here and there and signing a couple of things and snapping some photos with the fans to help keep up the personable image that would eventually seat me as Councilman.
When you reached me, I turned to you with curiosity and a diplomatic smile, teasing lightly, “You must have something important to say with that much urgency. What can I do you for?”
A few things caught me off guard. One, you had the most adorable dimple when you smiled. Two, you were even sexier up close, if that were possible. Three, you had said “what can I do you for”, which was probably a mistake on your part, but you said it so smoothly that I couldn’t be sure.
“Well Mr, Anderson,” I began innocently, “I was simply going to compliment you on your passionate and captivating speeches, but if you are offering yourself up so freely, then take me out for dinner and I’m all yours.” I bit my lip and smiled coyly at you, the heat rising to my cheeks once again at my boldness.
Your response was admittedly unexpected. Normally the women who approached me at my rallies weren’t nearly as bold as you were. Of course they were typically younger, just out of their teens with minds that begged to be molded, and you were clearly more mature. More around my age, if I were to guess, but with a simple beauty that could rival that of any twenty year old.
Yet your audacity was rivaled by the blush that rose to color your cheeks. You were bold yet modest. That was an intriguing combination. It was almost rare to find in today’s society, where modesty had been tossed out the window in favor of blatant promiscuity.
You were – dare I say – interesting… and we had yet to truly talk.
A single eyebrow lifted in response to your returning statement, though a smile still tugged at the corners of my lips. “I’m flattered, but maybe we should start with coffee.”
I watched you deliberate. You looked as if you were almost appraising me or sizing me up. You weren’t much taller than me, and also a lot thinner I was, yet I still felt intimidated by you. Charming, yet intimidating—it was a dangerous combination. A dangerous combination that I wanted to get caught up in, no matter the outcome or the consequences.
My heart pounded as I awaited your answer. Outwardly though, I remained cool. I didn’t want to seem like an awkward spaz.
I watched you raise your eyebrow and smirk slightly as you delivered your answer. Cocky little shit, I thought to myself, biting my lip as I felt my heart flutter.
I sighed, picking at my fingernails and trying to seem disinterested to fake you out.
“I don’t like coffee—but I like you, so I guess I’ll have to compromise,” I said nonchalantly, my eyes flickering back up to your face as I shot you a smirk of my own. “When?” I demanded.
The smile that had been fixed on my expression in a diplomatic gesture shifted to transition into an appreciative smirk of my amusement. Your audacity continued to be admirable.
“I can chase away everyone here and we can make our escape to my friends’ restaurant,” I suggested, briefly flicking my attention away to tend to another young woman who vied for my attention.
Everyone was slowly starting to dissipate. The reporters had surprisingly been the first to go as I’d given answers to a majority of their questions. Still a good crowd lingered, but was slowly beginning to scatter.
My attention flicked back to you, a single brow arched in deliberation. “They have more than coffee there for you to choose from. So yes or no?”
I began to hyperventilate. Right now?! My thoughts buzzed. But I needed time to prepare! Mentally, emotionally, hell even physically. I squirmed as my thoughts flickered to my slightly unshaven legs. Maybe that’s jumping the gun a little, but I always like to be prepared when I am going out with a guy, just in case. But what choice did I have? Best to strike now while the iron is hot. Or so they say.
Plus, his honeyed voice saying intimate phrases such as ‘chase everyone away’ and ‘make our escape’ as if he and I were the only ones left on earth made knees weak and a small fire to light in the pit of my stomach. I was a goner, hook, line and sinker, no matter how fast my brain wanted me to run out of there.
AND the fact that he was attentive to my needs in choosing a place that had more than just coffee…that was the nail in my metaphorical coffin right there. My heart melted at his thoughtfulness.
Praying that Kai hadn’t noticed my moment of fleeting panic, I took a deep breath to settle myself and said with an eager smile, “Sure, let’s do it.”
Your panicked reactions were easily caught by my perceptive gaze. I noted how you squirmed, how your breathing sped up, how your eyes had widened fractionally to convey the anxiety that had set in.
But you were quick to overcome that, or at the very least, to shove it aside and tamper it down until it was just barely noticeable. Still though, I’d caught it, but I made no move to suggest that I had.
My smirk maintained as I leveled you with my gaze. “Let’s go, then.”
I made sure to wrap up the interactions with the remaining reporters and supporters, staying behind to bring an arm around your back. Though not quite touching you, my hand hovered above the small of your back, guiding you through the small crowd as we headed for my car.
Ushering you around to the passenger’s side, I even went as far as to open the door and help you in before coming back to the driver’s seat.
“I never caught your name,” I mentioned as I drove, briefly looking over to you.
I stood by awkwardly as you said your final words to those who had gathered around you—around us. My mouth went dry as I realized this was really happening—I was leaving the rally with you, and you were taking me out on a date; at least, that’s how I perceived it to be.
My heart pounded with electricity as I more sensed than felt your arm snake behind me possessively. The fire in the pit of my stomach burned stronger. I felt lightheaded as I followed your lead towards your car, trying not to stumble over my own feet. Drunk would have been the perfect word to describe me right now.
The fire turned to butterflies as you opened the passenger side car door for me. Cocky, charming and a gentleman; I made a mental note as I lightly sat down, my heartbeat erratic, you shutting the door after me and walking around to the driver’s side as lithely as a majestic lion. Unfortunately for me, at this point my nerves were too frayed for me to hide them very well.
You started the car and drove off; I wasn’t sure where to look. Out the window seemed rude, but so did staring at your gorgeous face. My awkwardness was interrupted when you asked for my name. I winced internally; I had been stupid enough to hop into a car with an essential stranger without even bothering to tell him who I was. Ignoring the self-depracating thoughts now chanting in my mind, I answered, “Sara. Where is your friend’s restaurant?” I turned my head in your direction and dared myself to study your face out of the corner of my eye.
Vague thoughts of self-preservation swirled through my mind as I awaited your answer, but I pushed them aside. I wasn’t in any danger–yet.
My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
He kept his eyes trained on her features, mapping every time they changed and how they moved in conjunction with what she was saying. He stayed silent and kept the room cool.
“Well…” he spoke slowly, “indulge me. What is one of those ‘darkest moments?’“
I wanted to melt under his gaze. It was oddly comforting instead of intimidating. I felt as if he truly cared and was interested in what I had to say. I swallowed thickly, my heart still pounding with desire and need, and I wondered if Kai could hear it.
“My mom kidnapped me from my father when I was ten. She came and picked me up from a friend’s house. I got in the car, not understanding what was happening. We drove so long that we crossed state lines. We met up with a strange man. At least, he was strange to me. My mom knew him. They treated me nicely and bought me lots of toys. My mom asked me if I wanted to leave my dad and come live down here with her. I was having fun, and still didn’t understand, so I said yes. At night we went to an American Legion where I was the only child there and people were smoking and drinking at the bar. My mom let me use a pay phone to call my dad. Him sobbing on the other end was not something I expected. The sound of his voice is something that still haunts me to this day. We stayed overnight at a hotel, and I slept with my clothes on because that’s all I had. I don’t remember what happened when we came home. I don’t know why my dad didn’t press charges. I don’t know how, after a stunt like that, my parents are still together to this day. I want answers. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up something so traumatic when they are both so happy.”
My voice was raw and unemotional. My cheeks flushed as I felt utterly exposed now. Once again I wondered what Kai thought and what would happen next. Maybe he would slap me for talking too much. Maybe he would think I was a freak. Or maybe he would continue to sympathize with me. I tried to keep my body calm as I anxiously waited.
His eyes softened, still unblinking.
“It must be so horrible holding onto something that weighs on you so heavily.”
Kai scoots in his chair and straightens himself up without breaking their pinkie chain. After situating himself, he returned his focus to the girl sitting across from him.
“I hope one day that you can speak openly to your parents about this, or find some sort of peace. I understand what it’s like to hold onto pain from your parents.” He paused.
“If there’s anything I can urge you to do after we’re done here, talk to your parents. Make amends for yourself, while you still can.” He briefly looked down at the floor, but coughed and looked back up.
I was taken by surprise. I never expected to see you so emotional, and I wasn’t sure how to react. I watched as you looked at the floor and then scooted in closer to me. I shifted my feet under the table nervously, knocking them softly against yours. I cleared my throat before I continued.
“I’ll…I’ll try. To talk to them,” I said quietly and with a deep breath. “They leave for vacation this weekend. I’ll have the house to myself all week which will give me some time to think about I wanna approach this whenever they get back.” I casually but purposely mentioned having the house to myself, but I wasn’t really sure why. I looked away momentarily before leaning in closer to you.
“I’m sorry, Kai,” I began gently. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. I…I can leave you alone now if you want.” I gazed at you intensely, hoping your answer would be no.
My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.
As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.
Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.
My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.
It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.
I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.
I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.
I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.
But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?
I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”
The rally had gone off without a single hitch. People were impassioned, attentive, inflamed as I riled them up. The cheers and applause that had carried through the town square were those of a campaign well on its way to success.
A call of my name captured my attention. It wasn’t unusual for my attention to be grabbed after a speech. Fans would rush forward to greet me and to ask for autographs like I was some sort of celebrity – a flattering thought, really – and reporters would practically kick their way through the gathering crowds just to ask a few more badgering questions to follow up what I had spoken about on the platform.
But this one was somehow different. It was less like the demanding call of the news station or the excited shrill of some young blue-haired woman, and it was more like someone genuinely interested in something. What that “something” was, I could only guess, but nevertheless it effectively captured my attention.
As I stepped off the stage, I was immediately swarmed with the typical crowd, but my eyes sought out the person who had called my name so urgently. Finally my gaze caught you weaving your way through to reach me. I continued tending to the usual crowd, answering a few questions here and there and signing a couple of things and snapping some photos with the fans to help keep up the personable image that would eventually seat me as Councilman.
When you reached me, I turned to you with curiosity and a diplomatic smile, teasing lightly, “You must have something important to say with that much urgency. What can I do you for?”
A few things caught me off guard. One, you had the most adorable dimple when you smiled. Two, you were even sexier up close, if that were possible. Three, you had said “what can I do you for”, which was probably a mistake on your part, but you said it so smoothly that I couldn’t be sure.
“Well Mr, Anderson,” I began innocently, “I was simply going to compliment you on your passionate and captivating speeches, but if you are offering yourself up so freely, then take me out for dinner and I’m all yours.” I bit my lip and smiled coyly at you, the heat rising to my cheeks once again at my boldness.
Your response was admittedly unexpected. Normally the women who approached me at my rallies weren’t nearly as bold as you were. Of course they were typically younger, just out of their teens with minds that begged to be molded, and you were clearly more mature. More around my age, if I were to guess, but with a simple beauty that could rival that of any twenty year old.
Yet your audacity was rivaled by the blush that rose to color your cheeks. You were bold yet modest. That was an intriguing combination. It was almost rare to find in today’s society, where modesty had been tossed out the window in favor of blatant promiscuity.
You were – dare I say – interesting… and we had yet to truly talk.
A single eyebrow lifted in response to your returning statement, though a smile still tugged at the corners of my lips. “I’m flattered, but maybe we should start with coffee.”
I watched you deliberate. You looked as if you were almost appraising me or sizing me up. You weren’t much taller than me, and also a lot thinner I was, yet I still felt intimidated by you. Charming, yet intimidating—it was a dangerous combination. A dangerous combination that I wanted to get caught up in, no matter the outcome or the consequences.
My heart pounded as I awaited your answer. Outwardly though, I remained cool. I didn’t want to seem like an awkward spaz.
I watched you raise your eyebrow and smirk slightly as you delivered your answer. Cocky little shit, I thought to myself, biting my lip as I felt my heart flutter.
I sighed, picking at my fingernails and trying to seem disinterested to fake you out.
“I don’t like coffee—but I like you, so I guess I’ll have to compromise,” I said nonchalantly, my eyes flickering back up to your face as I shot you a smirk of my own. “When?” I demanded.
The smile that had been fixed on my expression in a diplomatic gesture shifted to transition into an appreciative smirk of my amusement. Your audacity continued to be admirable.
“I can chase away everyone here and we can make our escape to my friends’ restaurant,” I suggested, briefly flicking my attention away to tend to another young woman who vied for my attention.
Everyone was slowly starting to dissipate. The reporters had surprisingly been the first to go as I’d given answers to a majority of their questions. Still a good crowd lingered, but was slowly beginning to scatter.
My attention flicked back to you, a single brow arched in deliberation. “They have more than coffee there for you to choose from. So yes or no?”
I began to hyperventilate. Right now?! My thoughts buzzed. But I needed time to prepare! Mentally, emotionally, hell even physically. I squirmed as my thoughts flickered to my slightly unshaven legs. Maybe that’s jumping the gun a little, but I always like to be prepared when I am going out with a guy, just in case. But what choice did I have? Best to strike now while the iron is hot. Or so they say.
Plus, his honeyed voice saying intimate phrases such as ‘chase everyone away’ and ‘make our escape’ as if he and I were the only ones left on earth made knees weak and a small fire to light in the pit of my stomach. I was a goner, hook, line and sinker, no matter how fast my brain wanted me to run out of there.
AND the fact that he was attentive to my needs in choosing a place that had more than just coffee…that was the nail in my metaphorical coffin right there. My heart melted at his thoughtfulness.
Praying that Kai hadn’t noticed my moment of fleeting panic, I took a deep breath to settle myself and said with an eager smile, “Sure, let’s do it.”
My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.
As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.
Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.
My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.
It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.
I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.
I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.
I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.
But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?
I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”
The rally had gone off without a single hitch. People were impassioned, attentive, inflamed as I riled them up. The cheers and applause that had carried through the town square were those of a campaign well on its way to success.
A call of my name captured my attention. It wasn’t unusual for my attention to be grabbed after a speech. Fans would rush forward to greet me and to ask for autographs like I was some sort of celebrity – a flattering thought, really – and reporters would practically kick their way through the gathering crowds just to ask a few more badgering questions to follow up what I had spoken about on the platform.
But this one was somehow different. It was less like the demanding call of the news station or the excited shrill of some young blue-haired woman, and it was more like someone genuinely interested in something. What that “something” was, I could only guess, but nevertheless it effectively captured my attention.
As I stepped off the stage, I was immediately swarmed with the typical crowd, but my eyes sought out the person who had called my name so urgently. Finally my gaze caught you weaving your way through to reach me. I continued tending to the usual crowd, answering a few questions here and there and signing a couple of things and snapping some photos with the fans to help keep up the personable image that would eventually seat me as Councilman.
When you reached me, I turned to you with curiosity and a diplomatic smile, teasing lightly, “You must have something important to say with that much urgency. What can I do you for?”
A few things caught me off guard. One, you had the most adorable dimple when you smiled. Two, you were even sexier up close, if that were possible. Three, you had said “what can I do you for”, which was probably a mistake on your part, but you said it so smoothly that I couldn’t be sure.
“Well Mr, Anderson,” I began innocently, “I was simply going to compliment you on your passionate and captivating speeches, but if you are offering yourself up so freely, then take me out for dinner and I’m all yours.” I bit my lip and smiled coyly at you, the heat rising to my cheeks once again at my boldness.
Your response was admittedly unexpected. Normally the women who approached me at my rallies weren’t nearly as bold as you were. Of course they were typically younger, just out of their teens with minds that begged to be molded, and you were clearly more mature. More around my age, if I were to guess, but with a simple beauty that could rival that of any twenty year old.
Yet your audacity was rivaled by the blush that rose to color your cheeks. You were bold yet modest. That was an intriguing combination. It was almost rare to find in today’s society, where modesty had been tossed out the window in favor of blatant promiscuity.
You were – dare I say – interesting… and we had yet to truly talk.
A single eyebrow lifted in response to your returning statement, though a smile still tugged at the corners of my lips. “I’m flattered, but maybe we should start with coffee.”
I watched you deliberate. You looked as if you were almost appraising me or sizing me up. You weren’t much taller than me, and also a lot thinner I was, yet I still felt intimidated by you. Charming, yet intimidating—it was a dangerous combination. A dangerous combination that I wanted to get caught up in, no matter the outcome or the consequences.
My heart pounded as I awaited your answer. Outwardly though, I remained cool. I didn’t want to seem like an awkward spaz.
I watched you raise your eyebrow and smirk slightly as you delivered your answer. Cocky little shit, I thought to myself, biting my lip as I felt my heart flutter.
I sighed, picking at my fingernails and trying to seem disinterested to fake you out.
“I don’t like coffee—but I like you, so I guess I’ll have to compromise,” I said nonchalantly, my eyes flickering back up to your face as I shot you a smirk of my own. “When?” I demanded.
My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.
As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.
Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.
My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.
It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.
I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.
I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.
I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.
But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?
I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”
The rally had gone off without a single hitch. People were impassioned, attentive, inflamed as I riled them up. The cheers and applause that had carried through the town square were those of a campaign well on its way to success.
A call of my name captured my attention. It wasn’t unusual for my attention to be grabbed after a speech. Fans would rush forward to greet me and to ask for autographs like I was some sort of celebrity – a flattering thought, really – and reporters would practically kick their way through the gathering crowds just to ask a few more badgering questions to follow up what I had spoken about on the platform.
But this one was somehow different. It was less like the demanding call of the news station or the excited shrill of some young blue-haired woman, and it was more like someone genuinely interested in something. What that “something” was, I could only guess, but nevertheless it effectively captured my attention.
As I stepped off the stage, I was immediately swarmed with the typical crowd, but my eyes sought out the person who had called my name so urgently. Finally my gaze caught you weaving your way through to reach me. I continued tending to the usual crowd, answering a few questions here and there and signing a couple of things and snapping some photos with the fans to help keep up the personable image that would eventually seat me as Councilman.
When you reached me, I turned to you with curiosity and a diplomatic smile, teasing lightly, “You must have something important to say with that much urgency. What can I do you for?”
A few things caught me off guard. One, you had the most adorable dimple when you smiled. Two, you were even sexier up close, if that were possible. Three, you had said “what can I do you for”, which was probably a mistake on your part, but you said it so smoothly that I couldn’t be sure.
“Well Mr, Anderson,” I began innocently, “I was simply going to compliment you on your passionate and captivating speeches, but if you are offering yourself up so freely, then take me out for dinner and I’m all yours.” I bit my lip and smiled coyly at you, the heat rising to my cheeks once again at my boldness.
My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.
As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.
Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.
My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.
It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.
I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.
I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.
I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.
But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?
I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”
My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
He kept his eyes trained on her features, mapping every time they changed and how they moved in conjunction with what she was saying. He stayed silent and kept the room cool.
“Well…” he spoke slowly, “indulge me. What is one of those ‘darkest moments?’“
I wanted to melt under his gaze. It was oddly comforting instead of intimidating. I felt as if he truly cared and was interested in what I had to say. I swallowed thickly, my heart still pounding with desire and need, and I wondered if Kai could hear it.
“My mom kidnapped me from my father when I was ten. She came and picked me up from a friend’s house. I got in the car, not understanding what was happening. We drove so long that we crossed state lines. We met up with a strange man. At least, he was strange to me. My mom knew him. They treated me nicely and bought me lots of toys. My mom asked me if I wanted to leave my dad and come live down here with her. I was having fun, and still didn’t understand, so I said yes. At night we went to an American Legion where I was the only child there and people were smoking and drinking at the bar. My mom let me use a pay phone to call my dad. Him sobbing on the other end was not something I expected. The sound of his voice is something that still haunts me to this day. We stayed overnight at a hotel, and I slept with my clothes on because that’s all I had. I don’t remember what happened when we came home. I don’t know why my dad didn’t press charges. I don’t know how, after a stunt like that, my parents are still together to this day. I want answers. But I don’t want to be the one to bring up something so traumatic when they are both so happy.”
My voice was raw and unemotional. My cheeks flushed as I felt utterly exposed now. Once again I wondered what Kai thought and what would happen next. Maybe he would slap me for talking too much. Maybe he would think I was a freak. Or maybe he would continue to sympathize with me. I tried to keep my body calm as I anxiously waited.
My heart flutters at the slightest hint of his smile. “Thank you,” I said, accepting his compliment gracefully, hardly daring to believe he actually liked what I said. I took a deep breath and continued to stare into his hardened eyes.
“The lowest point,” I began. “That’s easy. When my anxiety and depression got so bad that I lost control of my life. I was scared of everything. I couldn’t take care of myself. I lost sight of who I was. I had to enter outpatient therapy at a hospital to get back on track again and regain control of my life. And now here I am, stronger for it.” I waited nervously for his answer and next question once again…
(Sara/slightlystrangesimmer on my personal blog)
He lightly scoffs.
“You’ve been through so much in such a short life,” he meets your joined hands with his free one, holding it over your hand very gently. He wraps his fingers around you and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he lets his eyes soften for just a moment.
“What happened to you to cause something that strong?”
You’ve been through so much in such a short life. His words echoed through my mind. Oh Kai, I thought, if only you knew the half of it.
His gentle touch sent tingles up my spine and set fire to the pit of my stomach. I struggled to concentrate on answering his newest question.
“Oh my,” I began shakily. “The easier question to answer would be what didn’t happen.” I paused, thinking how best to explain.
“I was diagnosed as depressed and suicidal at age 15. At the point in my life that this mental and emotional collapse occurred, I wasn’t managing my condition very well. I had recently escaped an abusive relationship, packed up and moved to start anew, and recently started at a new job that was too stressful for me to handle. It all sort of snowballed from there until it got to the point where I was almost constantly breaking down and panicking. Finally when I admitted to myself that I wasn’t functioning or even really living at all, I sought out professional help. There have been darker moments in my past, though,” I finished with a dark chuckle, wondering what he would say next.
My Type is Homicidal 