Triplets Make Five

“Fuck

the dishes,” I said, turning off the tap and sliding my hand back around her waist.

She doesn’t melt into my arms. She doesn’t press her body closer to mine. She resisted, she kept her back firm and rigid.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, loosening my grip on her waist.

“Nothing,” she said dismissively, planting her hands on the edge of the countertop.

“Tell me,” I insisted.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” she bluffed. “Work stuff. I really shouldn’t be here, and I don’t want the headmaster to find out.”

“Don’t lie to me, Daisy.”

She twisted around in my grasp, angling her body so that she was facing me with her chest pressed against mine and her hands were gripping onto my arms, pulling them tighter around her. She was grinding her jaw and I could tell she wanted to say something, but she was holding back.

I felt the hesitation lull in her throat, and could see the conflicted look flash across her eyes. I had a pretty good idea of exactly what was on her mind. She had been flirting with the edge all night; keeping her distance, then allowing herself to get a bit closer, only to pull away again.

“Why did you tell me that I should be afraid of you?” she asked me. Her voice was tiny, but her eyes are intense as they dig deep into mine, looking for an answer.

“I told you that’s a stupid question,” I said softly, reminding her of the answer I gave the last time she asked me.

“You want me to be brave and ask for what I want,” she said, wrinkling her brow into a frown. “Well, I want you to answer that question, whether you think it’s stupid or not. Why should I be afraid of you?”

Her eyes were digging holes into mine and our faces were so close that I could taste the wine on her breath. She was holding my arms around her, locking us together and holding her body close to mine, but somehow she was still resisting, still holding back.

“Why do you think, Daisy?” I asked, my voice a low whisper. I swallowed heavily, because I did not want to ruin this moment with the truth; I did not want to shatter what we have by talking about things we both already knew.

“I think that you’ve spent so much time reading the tabloid headlines that you’ve actually started to believe all of the awful things they write about you,” she said. “I think you’ve convinced yourself that you need to play a part, that you need to be this character that they’ve created.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Everyone,” she exhaled. “The press, the tabloids, the women who leach onto you for their fifteen minutes of fame.”

I felt my heart pounding in my chest, vibrating, creating white noise that wrapped around my head and rang through my ears. Why was she making me feel like this? Why were her words cutting through me? Why did I feel like she could see straight inside of me?

“I’m not playing a part, Daisy,” I said, my heart pounding through my voice. “This is just who I am.”

“No, Caleb, it’s not.”

“I’m selfish.”

“I’ve seen you be selfless,” she whispered back, her face inching closer to mine.

“I don’t know how to love.”

“I’ve seen you love.”

“I’ve hurt people, Daisy,” I insisted. My voice was a husky whisper, and our lips are close enough to touch. She tasted the ugliness of my words, but somehow her face didn’t darken in disgust.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she whispered.

“I could.”

“But you haven’t,” she said. She looped her arms tighter around my waist, melting into my chest as the percussion of her heartbeat hammered in sync with mine. Now I was the one struggling to resist as her warmth swelled against me, sending an electric current through my veins and electrifying every nerve in my body.

“You said this wasn’t meaningless.”