Arin

Roger said he loved me but I didn't believe him.

Scrambling back, I watched him as he entered the room. When his back turned to shut the door, I returned to the balcony.

I needed air, now more than ever. The artificially warmed air wasn't what I needed. I craved the dusty carbon monoxide inside my lungs to jolt me awake.

This was a dream. I was sure of it. Perhaps a nightmare.

I watched the horizon. The blazing ball of fire dipped into the horizon, streaks of red and grey left behind in the darkened sky.

The sound of Roger's muffled steps appeared closer. He cleared his throat, hovering behind.

I was sure that this was a dream. Shutting my eyes tightly, I counted.

1...2...3...

In a quick spin, I turned around and opened my eyes. If this was a dream, the jolt of action would walk me.

Nothing.

I still stood on the balcony with Roger standing next to me.

"I know that the red eye and the jetlag aren't doing my appearance any favor but I don't think I look so bad for you to shut your eyes."

Roger tried to lighten the mood. I was still wrapping my mind around his sudden appearance at my hotel to react.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

Roger tipped my fallen face to look at him.

"For you! I am here for you."

My life revolved around making mistakes. So, when one major mistake of my life stood in front of me, the decision I'd taken to secure my heart and protect myself from feeling anything for Roger, resurfaced.

My brain had begun detoxing whatever my heart felt for him. It took me some time but I kept reminding myself to go for a person who cared for me and loved me. That did the trick.

Now, I'd to ensure not to fall for his theatrics.

"We are two different people who want different things, Roger. Our paths will never meet. Better we understand it now."

Harsh, cold winds pricked my skin. My face, my chest and every inch of me felt numb.

Yet, external climatic conditions didn't hurt me as much as the pain I felt when Roger rejected me.

"You're right, Arin. We're two very different people. But our paths have already collided."

He pulled me closer, blowing warm air through his mouth onto my pale knuckles. He turned me around and moved me back inside.

Like an idiot, I'd stood outside without any warmer. Only when the warmth inside the room hit my body and thawed my skin did I realize how cold it was.

Pulling my coat over me, I rubbed my chest. If there was a competition to catch pneumonia, I would be running as the first contender for it.

Moving closer, Roger rubbed over my coat-laden body. Some extra warmth didn't hurt.

"You're freezing," he said. The icy blue of his eyes darkened. "I can't believe you'd stand outside like that. It's not summer, Arin."

With every second that passed, I began reeling into his touch. His cedar scent wasn't helping with my resolution either.

Stepping outside his hold, I picked up the remote and increased the heater temperature. The machine whirled, warming our surroundings.

I tossed my coat on the bed, looking around.

Roger retained his stoic expressions and stood so close that the logic center of my brain fried up. His intense gaze over me didn't falter either.

"You still haven't answered me..." I stared at him. "Why are you here?"

"I did. I told you. I'm here for you, love."

Oh, would you stop it?

"Please don't." I raised my hand. "Don't say that word."

"What word? Love. Why shouldn't I?"

I was barely his friend when he decided to leave me sobbing at his apartment. Heartbroken. There was no way a man would fall for me like that.

It was his need to have what he couldn't have, that made him come to me.

"Roger...Please. It's just that nobody had ever ignored you before. And that's all there is to it. It's not love. You were probably missing me."

I haphazardly raised my hands, gesturing at him and his confused feelings.

He walked over to the desk in the corner of the room and leaned against it. With legs crossed over, and arms coiled over his chest, he smirked.

"Good introspection."

A while ago, I was ready for a meeting with potential clients for Dad before this man decided to walk in. Now, all I could do was think of ways to get rid of him.

In reality, I was trying to avoid him to avoid feeling those sour, hurtful emotions I'd buried since the day I confessed my love for him.

"Can I get you anything, Roger? Also, where are you staying?"

He remained silent. Staring at me with a smile so soft, it set my body on fire. My heart thundered over my ribcage, refusing to accept I'd gotten over him.

"So, you won't say anything?" I said.

He smirked.

I hated silence. Especially when I was confronting someone.

"For the love of god, Roger, will you say something?"

My voice echoed inside the room and rained down on me.

His eyebrows touched his hairline. His head tilted to a side, eying me intently.

I moved close to his side, coiling my fist to punch him before resigning at the last minute.

Instead, I pushed him with all my might.

The table bore the assault. With a loud, teeth-souring drag, it shifted back and adjusted to its new place.

Roger still said nothing.

"Dammit. Say Something," I yelled.

My insides were lit on fire. I was heaving, pleading with him to talk.

There was something so wrong about silent treatment. When inflicted correctly, it was a form of torture.

Roger, unknown to him, was torturing me both with his presence and his silence.

I felt my vision haze. My eyes warmed up.

Don't Cry. I reminded myself. It was useless since the dam I'd held inside my chest, burst.

With trembling lips, I looked up at him. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here for you..." He stepped up, bridging our distance. "I've come to see you. Speak to you, my love."

His soft hand wiped my tears and kissed my forehead.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not your love."

I protested, feeling a ball of pain hitting my gut and rumble up to my chest. I bent over my knees, the weight of his words crushing me.

He held me still.

This was the worst. Way worse than the day I confessed my feelings.

Roger kneeled on the carpeted floor, watching my arched body. Meeting my vision, the corners of his eyes appeared misty.

"I might have not said this but I have always adored you, Arin. When you first argued with me, I was impressed. I was fascinated when our attorney told me that your drafting was impeccable."

He pulled me closer, running circles over my back.

"When I came to know you were an Oswald, to be frank, I was jealous. Because having a loving father like Charles is a matter of luck."

Roger heaved for air as if his lungs were devoid of it. His eyes brimmed, just like mine. "When I came to know that you were my babydoll, I was spellbound. You've managed to trick me again, Arin."

He held my hands, bringing me to my knees and slanting in front.

"You have always impressed me. I was stupid to not see it. And, I can't believe you were always the one I was looking for."

"All that but you could never love me."

Roger reduced the inches that remained between us. He cupped my face, staring into my eyes.

"I was an idiot to ignore my feelings. I was a recluse before you. Nobody has ever come close to making me feel what I've felt with you. What I still feel. I was wrong to say that Stella was my first love. She was an infatuation that I thought was love."

Our faces were barely apart when he whispered. "Love, that emotion, I'd come to feel only with you. I thought I had a crush on you. Only when I realized what it felt like to lose you, did I understand your importance in my life."

Warm tears rolled down my face, landing on my folded legs. Wiping them away, Roger kissed my forehead.

"It was always you. Only you. You, Arin Oswald-Rafferty, have ruled my heart since the day you of your interview when you accidentally flung your pen at me."

I choked, wheezing in the air. Roger wiped the tears flooding my face and kissed my knuckles.

"When you took that pen from me, you also managed to take my heart. You repossessed what remaining on it on our first call. I was unaware of your invasion, Arin. I fell for the girl who agreed to pretend to be my fiancée."

When I looked up, the redness of his eyes had dimmed. A soft smile that always fluttered my heart, appeared at the corner of his lips.

Roger kissed my forehead and remained glued over for a long time before peeling away.

"There is only a regret that I carry now," he said. "That I didn't do one thing properly."

"What is that?"

"I'd need your ring back, love." He pointed at the solitaire on my finger. "So, I can propose to you properly."

~~

I hope you like this chapter. I love writing love confessions.

I hope you all check out my trending, Amby Award Winner book - Paint Me Saved - on my profile.

Because if you love this book, you would surely love that too :X