Racer & the Ceo

T H I R T Y F O U R

THIRTY-THREE

What time was it?

It feels as if I have been in a thermocol cocoon for the past ten years and now it's time for me to break open the shell and bloom. 

Suddenly, there was a knock that succeeded in pulling me out of my trance. Theodore entered with a brown mug and the smell of coffee occupied the air; it was a soothing smell curing the faint headache I was having. He was wearing grey joggers and a white shirt. 

"How are you feeling?" His voice was just above a whisper sending ripples of energetic electrons to rush down my veins. The ideal husky morning voice.

"Fine," I replied, gently brushing my fingertips over my forehead to push the stray hair away. 

He sat down in front of me, his one good folded and others kept on the ground. "Is it hurting anywhere?" He sounded concerned for my utter surprise. I pressed my palms against my hands, neck, chest, and thighs before replying a 'no'.

His eyes watched me carefully. Lifting his hand up, he brought his warm hand up to my forehead to measure my temperature.

"You're not sick." He noted. 

I sighed, looking at my lap.

Wait, one second. 

"Why am I in your clothes?" I glared at him.

He shrugged. I scowled. "Did you change my clothes?" 

"Yes. I did." He admitted with...guilt?

I huffed. Everyone knows that I hate people who enter into my personal space. He must have seen me all over. A slight tinge of red graced my face at the thought.

"Why do you have a scar there?"

"Where?" I pinched my eyebrows in a questioning way. 

He shifted and I felt a shiver spreading on my stomach. His warmth seeped through my skin, rattling my bones as a gasp escaped my lips. 

"Here," he murmured once his fingers found the space just below my underwear line, on my hip. 

My breath hitched as he carved the exact same scar with the pad of his fingertips. I jerked his hand away and looked down, blushing. 

Silence prevailed for an eternity. It was concentrated and suffocating. I felt him tug my chin up as his finger traced the chin and our eyes met for the first time. "Tell me." 

Instinctively, a thousand lies occupied my head. I was trying to choose the best one. 

"The truth," he uttered strongly but his voice was maintained. I wondered how his eyes could read my lies so easily. Maybe a businessman trait, I concluded.

"Accident." He prodded me with a humming noise and his hand retreated. I stopped and went back in time to remember the incident.

"It was four years ago. Someone over attacked me and I-I didn't know how to tackle it and fall without harming me. I learned how to fall after… after the sixth time of falling?"

"You have more scars?" He asked incredulously. 

"Hmm… like the one you saw and here," I pointed at the side of my face, below my hairline,  "three stitches." He inspected it closely. I waited for him to digest this so that I could show him the next.

"And one is on my elbow and the other on my calf." He didn't supervise other scars and looked at me with unwavering intensity at my face. 

"Don't you guys have assigned tracts?" 

"That's what they show to the public. What happens in between the starting line and finishing line is a mirage, full of secrets and betrayal. And always things aren't how they have been shown to you." A different light passed over his face.

 "Once you are on the track, you have every right to choose an easy win or the true win. That's why they say right? Everything is fair in love and war."

"And you are still continuing? Knowing well about the consequences. You might… just-just die in the process." I gulped and looked away. His eyes were accusing me which I couldn't stand.

"Illegal stuff isn't what you take them to be. And I needed something to divert my mind … after my father's death. Physical pain seems to numb my emotions."

"Even if it costs you your life? That's stupidity!" He hissed. "And you have so many scars and cuts on your body. Doesn't it scare you? Like ever?"

"I wear my scars with pride. They took a lot of pain you know? And when I look at them, they remind me of how I can still stand up after falling repeatedly and get up after being walked over like I was no one. Even if people can leave a dent on my skin yet it never lets my brain flicker to … just give up. They tell me that you have traveled so far that now giving up and dying will be a loss. Major loss. My scars make me stronger." I said out loud looking over his shoulder at the wall in front. 

"And I am good at it and earn a lot of money…" I trailed off finding it weird to end my speech feeling like a great freedom fighter and let him imagine further and grow his roots which would penetrate deep and reach my core. I had a feeling that he wasn't too far.

"You truly are insane." He exhaled with an unobservable but felt emotion on his face.

I scoffed earning an are-you-kidding-me look from him. "Being a good person I'll advise that don't pretend this way. Someone might think that you actually care."

"Of course — I- I mean I don't care." He stood up immediately, making me intake a sharp breath. 

"And you deserve it. Because that's what you want, right?"

And when he slammed the door behind him, I realized that my coffee was cold and vapourless.

 

***



Havanah Reverie

#174 in Romance
#101 in Billionaires

Story about: lovestory

Edited: 21.09.2020

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