The Nature of Cruelty (41 page)

We stay like that for a long time. It feels so perfect that I can’t bring myself to move. God, how I’ve missed the physical connection between us. How I’ve resented myself for pushing him away all these weeks. I mean, what man would quit a great job and move to another country for a girl? Take on the life of a student, so far removed from the wealthy lifestyle he’d been accustomed to for so many years. If a life away from the people you love, however flawed, is no life at all, then why am I still torturing myself like this?

“I love you,” he whispers, taking my earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it slowly.

“Somebody’s going to see,” I tell him, worried but still unable to break away.

I turn in his arms to hug him from the front, my breasts straining against his chest. When I rest my head next to his heart, he sighs softly.

“Let’s get out of here. I want to take you to dinner.”

“Dinner sounds good,” I say, breathing in his scent.

His fingers press into my ribs with need just before he pulls away and drags me back to my desk. He begins shoving my books inside my bag for me, then pauses, breathing deeply, and turns to face me.

“I’m sorry. I’m being too pushy, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re fine. But I can pack up my own things.” I laugh.

He steps away and allows me to finish, rubbing his hand up and down my back as I do. I practically vibrate with joy at how comforting his touch is. “How are you feeling these days? You been sick at all?”

There’s such concern in his voice that it takes me a moment to reply. “I’ve been good…health-wise, anyway.”

“And otherwise?” he asks quietly, rubbing more tenderly now.

“Otherwise, I’m kind of shitty.”

His answering chuckle is full of affection. “Otherwise, I’ve been kind of shitty, too.”

We leave campus, and Robert takes me to a fancy restaurant on Dawson Street. He seems very interested to hear about my thesis and what I’m writing it on. I explain the topic to him, but I’m too embarrassed to let him know how my experiences with him inspired me. By the perceptive look in his eyes, I’d say he’s guessed that part for himself anyway.

He tells me all about his film studies course and how interesting he’s finding it as we eat a delicious meal.

Afterwards Robert offers to bring me to see the new apartment he’s going to be moving into. When we get there, I find it’s a brand-new building with lots of tall, leafy trees on the grounds. Robert’s place is on the fourth floor. It’s big but empty, the only item of furniture being a dark brown leather sofa.

“I’m, uh, working on making it my own,” he says, chagrined. “I still have to get a bed, and basically everything else, as you can see.”

“It’s nice. I can see you being happy here.”

He smiles and nods, but there’s something missing in his eyes.

I walk over to the window, liking how the trees make for a pleasant view outside.

“You’re welcome to stay whenever you like. I mean, if you’re ever studying late in the library and miss the last train, you can have the couch.”

I swallow, turning to him and acknowledging the generous offer. It
would
be nice to have a crash pad close to college.

“Thanks,” I whisper as we stare at each other across the empty apartment.

Exiting the building, we walk back to where he parked his car. It’s late, so I agree to let him drive me home instead of dropping me off at the station. It’s a quiet, contemplative sort of drive. I keep sensing him sneaking quick glances at me every couple of minutes, as though he’s overjoyed just to have me here in his car alone.

We’re almost home when I get the overwhelming urge to escape the silence that’s chock-f of unspoken emotional words I’m not brave enough to speak, so I turn the radio on low. A DJ’s voice fills the speakers before one of my favourite songs in recent months comes on, “Anything Could Happen” by Ellie Goulding. It has this really uplifting beat that always manages to cheer me. If a fairy ever wrote a pop song, this is exactly what it would sound like.

Without thinking, I close my eyes and begin singing along quietly to the lyrics. Somewhere in between Robert takes my fingers in his. When the song is over, I open my eyes and see that the car has stopped. We’re parked outside Liz’s house. Robert reaches forward to turn off the radio, and then he pushes the button to draw down his window. It’s dark out, and all I can hear are the waves from the beach as they crash against the shore.

“I love hearing you sing,” he whispers, his voice tender.

Both our heads rest against the backs of our seats, our faces turned to one another. We stay locked in the moment, our gazes connected. I breathe out and he breathes my air in, a symbol of how vitally we need one another.

Suddenly flustered, I draw my fingers from his and pick up my bag. “It’s late. I’d better get home before Mum sends out a search party.”

He stops me and grabs the bag from my hands. “Not yet, please. Come take a walk with me. It’s a beautiful night.”

Unable to say no when he looks at me like that, I nod and slip out of the car. He walks around to my side, draping his coat over my shoulders and taking my hand again. Even though it’s mid-October, the nights haven’t gotten too cold yet. The air is crisp and fresh, full of the salty smell of the sea. We walk down the sandy path to the beach, where it’s blissfully empty, the two of us the only people around for miles.

I sit down on the sand, pulling Robert’s coat snug around me. It smells of him, filling my senses and setting my body alight with awareness. He lowers himself down beside me. I stare straight ahead, watching the dark sea and allowing my hands to drift in the sand, feeling the grains fall through my fingers.

“Do you know, when you walked into Sasha’s kitchen at the start of the summer, I had no clue what way to be around you,” he says, voice soft.

I glance up at him and smile. “That’s funny, because I felt the exact same way.”

His expression grows warm. “I felt like a complete arsehole calling you ‘Tampon’ like I did when we were at school, but I suppose I was just falling back into the bully role, the only role I knew. Then when I paid you compliments, I saw how something sparked behind your eyes, surprise and a tiny sliver of happiness. It was like I’d been waiting my entire life to see that spark. In a split second I realised how easy it was to be nice to you, when all along I’d thought it would be difficult, that it simply wasn’t in my nature to be kind. I had it so twisted. Cruelty is easy, and it breeds only misery. Kindness is harder, and you have to be brave to give it. To be cruel, you can stay closed off from everyone, wear a mask, but to be kind, in essence, to show love, you have to make yourself vulnerable, show your true self to someone and open yourself up to rejection.”

His words blindside me a little. I knew Robert had depth, but I hadn’t known the true extent of it until now. And it’s crazy, really, because his thoughts are almost like a mirror held up to my own.

We each stand on either side of that mirror.

At odds, yet reliant on one another.

Opposite, yet in sync.

How could I have walked away from such a connection, one that evolved over so many years? I’ve always told myself that I wouldn’t allow my illness to rule me, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing ever since I went into my coma. I can have Robert and I can have my health. It’s just going to take work, the same way Robert said kindness and love requires bravery.

Nothing worth having is easy. The same goes for people. The ones who take cold, hard guts to get inside of are the most worthy of all. The ones you have to fight for.

In our own ways, Robert and I have been fighting for each other our whole lives. We just didn’t know it.

Invigorated by this revelation, I jump to my feet. “Let’s go for a swim.”

A short burst of laughter erupts from him. “It’s the middle of October, Lana.”

“So what?”

One end of his mouth curls as he studies me, his dark eyes sexy under the moonlight.

“You’re right,” he answers, shaking his head. “So what — let’s go.”

Rising to his feet, he begins to strip off his clothes, and I stand there watching him, soaking up the sight of his beautiful skin. Catching myself, I shrug out of his coat and pull my dress up over my head in one fell swoop. I shiver pleasurably against the cold, my pale skin pimpling. Something’s gotten into me tonight. Things I would normally consider crazy seem incredibly appealing. I’m drunk on emotion, on the knowledge that I’m going to take a chance on this beautiful man.

And it’s my own decision; no one else is influencing me this time.

I stare down at my feet, wriggling them in the sand.

I look up, and Robert’s gazing at me. “You’re perfect.”

I laugh, whispering, “Shut up,” and then turn to run towards the sea. Despite the moderate weather, the freezing water hits me hard and I gasp loudly, wading in it up to my waist. Squeezing my eyes and my mouth closed tight to keep from getting salt in them, I drop my body under the water and then jump back up. Droplets trickle down my skin.

“What’s gotten into you?” Robert calls, nearing me as he navigates the cold sea.

Biting my lip, I reply, “I don’t know. You. Life. Everything.”

I twirl around in the water, splashing all about.

A laugh full of relief and joy sounds from him as he rushes to me, throwing his arms around me and pulling me back down into the water with him. He swims backwards, dragging me along, my head resting next to his chest, right over his heart again.

“I love you, you absolute nutter,” he growls, biting playfully at my neck.

“I love you, too,” I answer, twisting so I can kiss him long and deep. We’re out far enough now that we have to paddle to keep above the water. We touch and caress in the dark of the night, alone beneath the stars.

It’s so cold that I should want to leave, but the pleasure of being with Robert overrides everything else. I’d once thought that was a bad thing, but it’s not.

The alternative is far worse.

Finally, Robert manages to drag me from the sea, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me back to where we’d been sitting. We stand facing one another, smiling like maniacs and putting dry clothes onto our wet bodies.

It takes a while to get back to the houses because we keep stopping to kiss and touch like we’ve been starved of such things for centuries.

“Mum’s babysitting for my Uncle Rick tonight. She won’t be back. Want to stay over?” Robert asks naughtily in my ear.

Nodding, I push him into his front garden, and he rummages in his pocket for the keys. We burst through the doors like two kids breaking the rules, and he leads me to his bedroom. I type a quick message to Mum on my phone, telling her I won’t be back tonight.

Seconds later we’re both stripped naked. I allow my mouth to travel down his body, kissing and sucking as I go. The salty sea on his skin tastes incredible.

My thighs straddle his legs, and he stares down at me, adoration seeping from his every pore as he strokes my damp hair away from my face.

“You do realise this is one of my teenage dreams come true, right?”

I chuckle, flicking my tongue over his nipple and making him groan. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Phillips?”

He grabs my face and pulls me up for a kiss. “I mean having you in my bed when we were younger was something I thought about a lot. Actually, scratch that — it’s something I thought about all the time.”

“Oh, really? And what did you think about doing to me?” I ask in a hot voice.

He flips us so he’s hovering above me, his warm hand finding its way between my legs and spreading them wide. He pulls my knickers down, the damp material dragging painfully across my skin. Then his hand is caressing my folds, coaxing them to get wetter.

“This,” he breathes, before plunging two fingers into me and pumping in and out.

I gasp and moan, shifting against him, wanting more.

“If you had done that to me back then, I probably would have died.”

Laughing affectionately, he draws a trail down my neck with his tongue, all the way to my breast, where he sucks my nipple into his mouth. The sensation of him nipping it with his teeth causes me to undulate beneath him, fumbling for his cock, wanting it inside me.

Seeming to know exactly what I need, he withdraws his fingers and thrusts himself into me, filling me completely. I grip his bed sheets, finding it oddly kinky to be making love in his old bedroom. It’s almost like we’ve come full circle, back in the house where it all began.

He pounds me hard and fast, sweat dripping down his neck, holding tight to my waist. At one point he lifts me by the hips so he can get in deeper. His low grunts and dirty whispers fill my ears and my senses.

As the night wears on, it feels as though there isn’t a single part of my body that he hasn’t claimed. I’m on top of him now, moving back and forth as he laces both our hands together. He stares up at me, mouth open in wonder and lust.

“Marry me,” he breathes harshly, squeezing my hands tight.

I’m momentarily taken aback, but I don’t stop moving. I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my entire life, and I don’t think Robert has, either.

Through my foggy, sex-filled thoughts, I whisper, “Okay.”

He beams at me, coming seconds later. I collapse on top of him and cradle him in my arms, trying to show him how much I love him with actions because my voice won’t work. After a while I see his eyes start to flicker; he’s dreaming, deep in slumber. Stroking his dark hair hypnotically, I tell him, “You’re mine,” in the quiet, empty house. Nobody has ears to hear me, but as Robert’s eyes continue to flicker, I think I see him smile.

The next morning we oversleep, not waking up until ten or eleven. My bladder feels like it might burst, so I throw on one of his large T-shirts and hurry to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I don’t make it there unnoticed, as Liz is walking down the hallway.

Her brown eyes light up when she sees me, and a grin splits her lips. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

I can’t help it; I grin right back at her. “Yeah, Liz. It does.”

I think she might be tearing up a little then, because she dabs her eyes. “You’ve been the making of my son this year, Lana Sweeney. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”