Book 1: Chapter 2 - Attracted To Her
1040 Words
"Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny." - Steve Maraboli.
Stefan's POV
Annabelle brought out a side of me I had kept hidden for a long time. Her big, innocent green eyes twinkled and shone, mesmerizing my soul. Her long, soft brown hair cascaded down to her waist, making me want to run my fingers through them.
Her soft creamy skin and pink plump lips had me craving a taste of their sweetness. I couldn't understand the new feelings within me. It seemed I wanted to be near her, see her, and feel her softness in my arms. I never had such strange feelings for anyone yet. Sure, I had my quota of one-night stands and plenty of dates with the opposite s*x, during my college days, but not anymore. I had grown out of that phase. At twenty-four, I was no saint, though, but I couldn't see myself being attracted to a stranger, that too, just a teenager. My siblings would definitely laugh at me.
Yet, as the days went by, I had difficulty controlling myself when near her. I knew deep in my heart that she could never be mine. She was forbidden to me and I didn't want to complicate matters by developing feelings for her. She was too young for me, too innocent, and I needed to keep my distance from her. I couldn't drag her into the deep s**t I was in at the moment. I couldn't hurt her. She was family!
But as the days went by, laughing, interacting, and knowing her, my resolution to keep my distance from her crumbled to dust. I felt more and more attracted to her soul, her beauty, and her personality,
Like a moth to a flame,
Like an alcoholic to the liquor,
Like a bee to its honey,
Like the planets around the sun.
She was my sun.
Even Duke warmed up to her and followed us around, taking in our conversation and interacting the best way he could. Annabelle was more comfortable with him now. She had a gentleness, a kindness about her that made everyone warm up to her instantly.
A week went by and it was the day that I needed to take Gran to her orthopedic surgeon. We got the tests done two months back when I visited Gran. I had to go away on an important business meeting in Paris and returned directly here to consult Gran's doctor with the test reports. I updated Annabelle about Gran's condition, and she wanted to accompany us to the doctor. Gran's orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Timothy Smith, checked her reports and informed us she was suffering from acute osteoarthritis. She needed ongoing treatment, physiotherapy, and a 24-hour nurse to take care of her day-to-day needs. Her bones were weak and a specialized diet was prescribed. Annabelle understood every detail so that she could guide Gran's caregiver. We also found an excellent nurse, Ellie Stewart, a thirty-eight-year-old caring widow, who had no family. She instantly took a liking to Gran and Annabelle and started working for us. Having settled everything, it was time for me and Duke to return to New York, but because of Annabelle, I didn't want to leave.
After a hectic day full of conference calls with two important clients, I was annoyed and suffering a splitting headache. After dinner, I went to the terrace with a bottle of whiskey. I wanted to relax and think about my life, the mess I was in. On reaching there, I saw Annabelle on her swing, her favorite place in the world.
"Can't sleep?" I asked her, looking into her sad eyes. I stood hypnotized by her mesmerizing green eyes that shone in the moonlight. My eyes lingered on her pale creamy complexion looked brighter than the twinkling stars. I longed to embed my face in her rich dark brown wavy hair that smelled of strawberry and vanilla. She kept biting her plump pink lips, deep in thought. I wanted to kiss her and taste her sweetness and forget all the problems of my life.
She didn't respond. "Rosy, what's wrong?" I asked softly, my eyes not leaving her face. I glanced down at her lips. She had stopped biting them, but they looked luscious and plump.
She looked at me. "What did you call me?"
"Rosy," I whispered.
"Why Rosy?" she whispered back.
"Because your cheeks have a rosy hue," I answered as I leaned toward her. Her breath hitched; her eyes dilated with apprehension as she watched me shyly. I looked at her lips and leaned in more till my lips touched her forehead in a lingering kiss. I wanted to kiss her lips, but she was just seventeen and I didn't want to corrupt her innocence.
"Tell me what's bothering you?"
"Today's my mom's birthday. I was thinking about how my life would have been, had she been alive," she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. I wiped it away tenderly, pulled her into my arms, and crushed her to my chest. She sobbed, her hands wrapping around my torso while I stood like a statue, a myriad of emotions rocking my body.
"Let's bake her favorite cake then and share it with everyone!"
"Would you help me with it?" she asked hesitantly, and I nodded.
"I never met my mom, but Pops told me all about her. Mom loved to dance just like I do. She was a professional dancer. She married my dad and had to forget her passion for dance since dad didn't approve."
"You can keep her dream alive. She's always watching over and blessing you. I'm sure she would have been proud of you."
For the next few days, we came to know so much about each other; we took care of Gran together. Rosy was a wonderful cook and I could worship her hands after every meal.
"How did you learn to cook so well? You have magic in your hands," I said sincerely, meaning every word.
"Our old housekeeper, Maria, taught me. It's stress-busting for me. It helps me relax."
"I could get used to this forever, Rosy!"
- Writer
