Anne's POV
Trapped With Him
I hadn't noticed the sky changing at all. The thick drapes had blocked it all out.
I glanced from Vincent to the window, wondering whether to stay put or give him some privacy for the call. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to step away.
I slowly stood up and went to the window. The drapes, as it turned out, were much heavier than they looked.
"I just want to look through the window, silly curtain," I mumbled, exerting more effort to move them aside.
"Who's that at the window?" the caller asked.
I jumped, turning abruptly. My ankle got caught in the lacy hem of the heavy drapes. I lurched forward, but before I hit the floor, I managed to snag the fabric. I hung there, suspended by a fistful of velvet and a tangled foot.
I heard the caller laugh.
"Hello," I squeaked, waving my free hand.
"Hello, sweetie," she said, smiling at me.
"Son, is there something you're not telling me?" she asked Vincent.
"Mum?" he warned.
"What?" she protested. "You have a girl in your house, a pretty one at that. What do you want me to think?" she asked, with a little shrug.
My cheeks heated up immediately.
"Nothing. I want you to think nothing," Vincent said, nodding for emphasis.
"Oh, shush," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Bring her to your dad's party. I want to meet this lovely lady."
"Mum… I'll need to ask…"
"Gotta go, your dad's calling me. Love you, son, bye! Coming, dear!"
"Mum?”
The line went dead.
He sighed, then turned to look at me, finally registering my predicament.
"You can untangle yourself, right?" he asked, eyebrow raised, visibly amused.
I looked down at my ankle, then tried to free myself but couldn't. It was as if the curtains were personally offended.
Vincent stood up and walked over to me. As he bent, his back muscles flexed and rippled beneath his white shirt. I had wanted to place my hand on his back for support but decided against it.
After some mild tugging and pulling, I was successfully freed from the clutches of the evil curtains bent on embarrassing me.
"Thanks," I said bashfully.
"Anytime, clumsy," he teased, straightening up.
I ducked my head. My cheeks were at approximately a hundred degrees.
He shifted to the side and peered through the window with no difficulty whatsoever. The curtains parted for him without protest.
They definitely hated me.
He looked back down at me and was about to say something, about the weather, I assumed, but his phone went off again. A voice call this time. I caught Andrew's name on the screen before he answered.
"Hey?… yeah, she's here… what's going on?… Are you okay?… alright. Here, Anne, it's Andrew," he said, handing me the phone.
"Hello, Drew?" I said, clutching the phone to my ear with both hands. Don't ask me why, I couldn't explain it either.
If Drew were here, I wouldn't be fumbling like this.
"Anny, I've been trying to reach you. There's a massive storm out here. The roads are blocked and the river near school has flooded. Please don't leave the house, it's not safe. I'll try to get back, but if I can't, I'll stay at John's. Okay?"
I was too stunned to speak, not because of the storm, but because of what the storm meant. Spending the night here. Alone. With him. The same person whose mere presence did completely irrational things to my nervous system.
"Y-yeah," I stammered.
I handed the phone back to Vincent, who had been watching me the whole time. He spoke to Andrew briefly, but I didn't catch a single word because I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't. I was still in a daze.
"Anny, are you okay?" I heard him ask.
I hadn't even realised I'd zoned out.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at him.
I was not.
He gave me that thoughtful look again, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. I told myself it probably had nothing to do with me, even though the stare was clearly aimed at me.
"Anny, relax. Get comfy and let the storm pass, alright?" he said, as if he'd been reading my mind this whole time. Maybe my face was giving too much away.
I looked up at him, and for a moment our eyes locked and held.
Have you ever made eye contact with someone and had everything in your head just… go blank? That was exactly what happened. My brain shut down completely. I was just there, exposed under his gaze. It only lasted for a few seconds but it was more than enough to unsettle me.
He finally cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence.
"I'll go grab us some food. Is pizza okay?"
He waited to see my vigorous nod before walking off to the kitchen.
I went back to the couch and picked up my phone, switching on the screen. My eyes widened at the time. Six o'clock. The rain was still hammering the windows with no sign of stopping. At this rate, there was almost no hope of sleeping in my own bed tonight.
‘Calm down, Anne. It's all good. Probably.’
I let out a long breath and plopped back on the couch. As if on cue, Vincent walked in with a pizza box, a carton of orange juice, and two cups.
"This was delivered earlier.”
He set everything on the table, went back to the kitchen, and returned with two plates.
"Anny!" he called out dramatically, both hands raised as though he was about to conjure something. "Dig in," he added, dropping them, then grabbed a slice of pizza and took an enormous bite.
I had to smile. Who wouldn't? He was going out of his way to put me at ease. It was sweet.
I bent forward and picked up a slice. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until the first bite. Plus the pizza was so out of this world.
We finished eating in a somewhat comfortable silence. Between the two of us, we cleared everything, the full box, the carton, every last drop. I ate and drank the larger share, which I could see had registered with Vincent, though to his credit he didn't ask the obvious question about where all the food went.
In the kitchen, Vincent threw out the box and carton while I washed the dishes.
What now?
Outside, the rain intensified, taking the last of my hope with it.
Being around Vincent should have been easy. But I got all tense with unfamiliar feelings at every word, every glance, every small movement he made. They weren't bad feelings, exactly. I just despised losing control of myself, and around him, I seemed to lose it constantly.
I suspect he was reading my body language, or perhaps my discomfort was just that loud, because shortly after, he excused himself and went upstairs, while I retreated to the couch.
Or maybe, he simply couldn't stand me. Who would, after all my mishaps? I was even surprised he'd put up with me for so long.
The movie in front of me wasn't appealing anymore, but I kept it on as a distraction from the situation I was very much trapped in.