Torn Desires

Amelia’s POV

My heart felt as though it were bursting with anger and frustration as I thundered up the stairs, the sound of the front door being slammed still ringing in my ears. The cold look Collins cast from the car ride stuck to me — those dark, piercing eyes cutting through me like I was made of glass. His question about Joel — “Is he your boyfriend?” — it had come out of nowhere, cold and sharp, and the silence after was worse, full of something I couldn’t identify. Why did he care? The idea sent heat flooding to my cheeks, not the gentle variety that warms you from the inside out, but the kind that clamped around my chest, sucking the oxygen from my lungs and leaving me exposed.

I fell facedown on my bed, my pillow smothering the hurt ready to gush from my soul. My eyes watered, stinging, and I closed them tight, trying to make the hurt go away. But it didn’t — it grew with a weight bearing down, driven on by a single name that haunted me like a forbidden tune: Collins. He was all around me, present, there was no escape, it all made my feelings spring up that I’d held back and fought against.

I rolled onto my back, and staring at the ceiling, imagined him at the hospital tall, unwavering in his white coat, silencing Sophie’s mom with a voice that filled the room. He had been a force of bias, cool and self-assured, but when he’d come over to assist me, there had been a softness to it, an attention that had made my moment manageable. My fingers curled into the blanket, tears sliding down to the sheets as I whispered, “Why does it have to be this way?” The unfairness sank its claws into me — he was Mum’s, not mine, and that was the truth of it.

I wiped my wet cheeks and peered again at his coat draped across my chair. It still smelled like him—clean, masculine, powerful—and my hand shook as I reached out, fingers stroking the fabric. A jolt of excitement went down me, electric and sinful, and I jerked my hand back, flooded with guilt. Go to dangerous places in my mind — what if his strong hands held me, not just guided me like some kid. What if it had been me, and not her, in whose dark eyes he became so tender? The pictures were vivid, dirty and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. “It’s unfair,” I grumbled into my knees, though the longing did not cease, the lingering glance from the hospital fueling a hope I knew was absurd.

I rose to my feet, walking the small circle of my room, the storm inside me an angry longing. One second, I was ready to storm downstairs and release all my reckless feelings, screw the consequences; the next, I wanted to disappear from this wreckage. The idea of confessing was crazy, but a voice said, You can fix this. I became paralyzed with fear at the possibility of stealing him from Mum. Was I that selfish? That desperate? More tears flowed, hot and angry, and I smacked my fists onto the mattress, a strangled cry reaching my throat. “No!” I hissed. “I can’t… I won’t.” The temptation remained, twisting tightly around my heart. Taunting me with the never to be.

A gentle knock made me jump, and my heart performed skipped at the sound of his voice. “Amelia?” Collins’s deep voice made my heart race, dread and delight crashing into each other. “Y-yeah?” I answered, my voice shaking, not much steadier.

The door groaned open and he walked in the room, awkward grace visibly sweeping into the room. The coat had given way to a simple shirt and slacks, but he was no less arresting, his dark hair a little tousled, his presence powerful. His eyes roved over me, resting on my tear-streaked face, and his brow furrowed, his expression flickering to a look of concern that made me want to hurt him just so he would ask me if I was all right.

“You forgot this downstairs,” he said, offering me my phone, his voice neutral but warm.

“Oh,” I mumbled, clumsily climbing to get it from him while our fingers brushed for just a moment and ignited something inside of me. “Thanks.” The room was too small, the atmosphere heavy with all that went unsaid, his presence too much.

“You okay?” he said, his voice quivering, hunting for. I jerked my head up and down, not looking at him, my heart racing. “Yeah, fine,” I lied, the words echoing in the air.

He didn’t believe it, his voice lowering, gentle and dissembling. “Amelia.” There was a frailty in his voice when he whispered my name, and I went all weak in the knees as I snapped, “What?” It came out a bit more rude than I'd meant, and his brow arched, but he didn’t continue, only sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “If something’s on your mind, you can open up to me. You know that, right?”

I  looked at him then, truly looked at him, his face still blank, something behind it, concern, perhaps, or something was on there but I couldn’t read it. The desire to blurt the truth welled up, hot and reckless, but I shoved it down. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled, turning away, almost no sound in my voice.

He didn’t budge, and his look weighted, peeling away my defenses. “About the guy this morning?” he said in a low voice, surprising me. “Joel, wasn’t it? You upset about him?”

I snapped at him with my head, my eyes wide with disbelief. “What?” My heart was pounding, and I thought: Why introduce Joel? And that voice, strained, almost demanding — what was it?

“No,” I scowled, crossing my arms, on the defensive. “It’s not about him.”

“Then what?” There was an edge of irritation in his tone which set the tone for my own belligerence.

“Why do you care?” I shot him a narrow eye. His jaw clenched, silence expanding as he took a step towards me, the distance between us growing narrower, charged. His eyes bore into mine, smoldering and emptying my lungs of air.

“Because I do,” he said, in a low voice. I thought for a fleeting moment the world had somehow tilted, the pressure a taut string threading every which way and ready to snap.

“Collins,” I breathed, my voice shivering, his name an appeal and a caution. Then he blinked and took a step back, unbroken spell snapping, face shuttering. “Go to sleep,” he told me, calm now, almost too calm. “It’s been a long day.”

My head was still spinning, so I nodded my confirmation then he was out the door, clicking shut. I could feel my heart pounding with the force of my pulse and then fell back onto my bed which I fell onto with great force, fingers brushing lips as though moving towards something that never was. What was that? The storm inside me rumbled, louder now, sitting on the brink of something dangerous—something I wanted despite every reason to run in the opposite direction. And the worst part? I didn’t want to break away, not from him, not from the fire he had started, even if it burned everything to the ground.