Unknown by Nabila Anjum Read Free Book Online Page B

graphic details. However, I draw the line at women's skirts and the mayor's speech. Those were beyond my powers of comprehension, especially the latter.
     
    “Thrice? You danced just thrice?" she asked incredulously between bites.
     
    "You have it the other way round kid. You should compliment me for being able to bear the activity more than once."
     
    "But you said you danced with Drew. I thought you liked it." There's a weird catch in her voice, as she makes that observation. I immediately jump on it like a cat lapping on cream.
     
     
    "Yes I did, which is more than can be said about my second attempt with Emma", I throw in, not bothering to expand on it. And then I wait for the inevitable. She does not disappoint.
     
    "And you didn't dance after that", she persists with a note of relief. It's like she's happy that I didn't, though she does try to work on convincing me otherwise, with her innocent smiles and guileless eyes.
     
    “I did. Thrice remember. I danced with Drew twice.”
    That does it. Her face falls abruptly, and I choke back laughter. A tiny snort escapes though, and she scowls at me.
     
    "Did you now", she quirks her eyebrows in what I call a classic Elizabethan fashion. I give up and laugh out loud, which has her snorting rudely.
     
    “I danced with Mrs. Trudy, then bolted for the doors after she stepped on my toes so hard, it had me swallowing a scream. My toes are now the size of a tennis ball.”
     
    She giggles at that, the same musical one I'd missed so much. We chat some more as she continues to devour the burger, and quickly washes it down with soda.
     
    I lean towards her without a single conscious thought in my brain , and wipe the ketchup off the corners of her mouth with my thumb in an old childhood habit of mine.
     
    It was the end to our moment. She freezes on the spot, her huge blue translucent eyes pleading with me, but for what, I had no clue. I yank my hands back as if singed, while the rest of me is suffused with tremors. Talking to her hadn't been on the agenda. I was supposed to have dumped her food on a plate, and taken mine with me to my room. But I just had to make a fool of myself by engaging her in a conversation. And the stupidity did not end there. No, sir. I just had to touch her too.
     
    Was there no end to my foolishness?
     
    I sit up straight, intending to extricate myself from the sofa, when she manages to do something to stop my heart, again.
     
    Keeping her gaze riveted on mine, she holds my hands in her own and places them on her cheek, kissing my palm softly.
     
    "Elizabeth, please". I close my eyes on a vicious oath, battling my desires in an effort to keep up some semblance of normality. Of detachment.
     
    "I'm sorry, so sorry Nick, sorrier than you can comprehend. Every day I vow to myself to keep my distance. Every day I watch myself trip. Little mistakes and big ones, which make it more grueling to stay away", she whispers achingly, nuzzling her face against my palm.
     
    "Why do you? Why did you?" I ask in a gruff whisper, mixing my tenses. If she aches the way I do, if she feels half as much as I do for her, why would she want to stay away? How does she?
     
    "I don't have a choice. I can't start what I can't finish".
     
    “It doesn’t work that way Beth”.
     
    “I know, and I’m sorry. That’s all I have to say. I’m sorry”.
     
    Yeah, I echo bitterly. That's all she has to say. Not ‘I love you', but ‘I'm sorry'. It reminds of Drew's argument of having to settle for second-best. Of the futility of having to say you're sorry.

    Karma's a prompt and succinct bitch, isn't she.
     
    "I see. And in the meantime you can string me along for some trifling amusement, isn't it? Can't say I blame you, Beth, seeing as I've been more than willing to play your puppet", I declare, full of resentment and self- loathing. Five years now, and she still holds the power to pull my strings, to play my heart for the fool it is.
     
    "One wonders, whether