Trust me

Although I dreamed it whole nights, for weeks that have become months, I still struggle to believe I have my lips glued to Seth's, while my hands touch his warm face and his fingers nestle in my hair, preventing me to escape.

I would like to believe, as in the most romantic scenes of any story, that he is clinging to me for fear that at any moment I can run away from him and break his heart, but Morgesten is less dominated than me by love, while the reality is more carnal and leaves all those good moments to the imagination of writers partly frustrated and partly looking for a fairy tale that they know will never come to life.

However, I believe that, for the boy crushed to me, it is only a matter of instinct, of past experiences and desire for possession.

Maybe that's why the more we stick together, the more he seems to be stingy.

However, regardless of my desire to remain anchored to Seth with all my strength, the air starts to be missing a little in me, I need to stop and fill my lungs with oxygen to be able to stay at his pace. My fear, anyhow, at this very moment, is to break the magic that surrounds us, even if it is moist like saliva and hot like fire.

Yet Morgenstern does not seem to need to breathe, he seems to fill his bronchi with the heat of bodies, the touch of our skins - and I envy him, while I grasp his lower lip between the teeth I feel terrible envy for him; I would like to have his own knowledge of this subject, knowing how to sustain a confrontation with him.

Explaining it to my lungs, however, is something more complicated and so, although trying to resist until the last, too greedy of this unreal situation in order to give importance to voluntary apnea, I find myself dealing with a sudden cough.

For the will of others I am forced to detach myself from his lips and give me a few moments of recovery, a pause that I am sure will prevent the spell from recreating itself with the same naturalness and intensity.

I cough over and over again, almost as if something remained in my throat and, in doing so, with one hand I cover my mouth, discovering it terribly hot and swollen, as if it were bitten. Maybe I got too involved? Did I let the hunger for him get the better of me?

Slickly I glance at the boy next to me, particularly to his mouth. It is a cherry color that I have not seen on him for months, perhaps because of the constant cold, now interrupted by the thirty-four degrees of my person. What upsets me most of all, however, is the satisfied grin with which he stares at me from his fifteen centimeters more.

And my heart leaps in the throat.

Why is he looking at me like that? Why am I afraid of having to stay here and find out?

«Apparently you don't dislike me that much» he whispers faintly, slowly approaching and literally putting my back to the wall, where the speakers inside the room make the surface to which I am crushed barely vibrate.

We observe ourselves, albeit in two very different ways: I am embarrassed, with the heartbeat that seems to want to kill me, while he's aware of his power, full of the charm that makes him so desirable.

Swallowing hard I try to defend myself, to prevent him from playing with me - as he has always done, after all: «Or it is the alcohol that likes you so much». A pale cloud of steam rises from the mouth. My breath is still hot, my body is in raptures.

He bends his head to one side, observing me with skepticism: «Are you telling me that, if it weren't for some beer in your tummy,» with an index finger brushes my abdomen, but his eyes don't seem to want to depart from mine: «you wouldn't have kiss me in the same way?» his finger finds a crack, it slips under the shirt, raising the edge. The contact is hot, but I have no idea why it is; maybe it's an impression, maybe one of the many consequences of what sets me off.

He smiles more and more, bringing his face dangerously close to mine: «Jay, look, I've been in love too, I recognize the thrill that comes over you every time I'm too close» he finally whispers, as my epidermis fills with goose bumps.

Does that mean he always knew? Is he trying to tell me that he have known about my eternal crush on him for these last eight years?

I would like to know, but what escapes me is something else: «So Sharon makes you feel this?» My pupils lower on his hand, motionless. The fingertip remains pressed to the belly, but it does not touch the meat with delicacy anymore, it seems rather to point me like the barrel of a gun. I wonder if it can hurt me. Who knows if with so little he can pierce my stomach and make me fall to the ground.

«Don't compare yourself to her, Jane» Seth's tone makes me jump, so cold, annoyed. His voice is no longer as mellow as a few moments ago and even his smile, now that I stare at his face, is no longer perched on his still flushed lips.

As usual, what must have been the most unforgettable moment of my last eighteen years, seems to want to turn into the worst - and all because of my tongue, unable to stand still. So I bite it down, but with more and more intensity, punishing her for having acted without the consent of the mind.

I feel every jagged tooth leave its mark on the taste buds and the greater the pain, the faster I look away from the boy in front of me: yes, how can I compare myself to his girlfriend, the real one? How can I compare myself to that sort of amber Venus that conquers men and successes in the same way?

She has been at his side for years, experiencing everyday life in a way quite different from how Morgestern ever did with myself, who more than a female specimen, had to represent a sort of yeti puppy for him. She, who despite the mutual betrayals never left the scene. She, who in group exits has always made me feel uncomfortable. She, who adorned his skin with signs, thus making me wear out at the thought that I could never have Seth.

With what presumption do I stand beside her?

Suddenly, the forefinger that had threatened my belly turning into a weapon of phalanges and flesh joins my thumb to grab my chin. They pinch it a little, forcing me to look back at my interlocutor: «Sharon is and always has been a pastime, you get that? She kept me company, she didn't expect promises or plans for a future together and she didn't claim any explanation. Your brother and Charlie can confirm it if you don't believe me» he pauses, looking into my eyes for something I can't define. Maybe he wants a confirmation, or he's trying to see some hesitancy in me. He spends a few moments in silence, then rests his forehead on mine, crushing his body against me: «She has no value if compared to you» he finally decrees, making my heart jump in my throat again. This last sentence, which may seem the most obvious of any trash book scene, completely upsets the ideas I had made up until now, leaving me floating in confusion.

I don't understand, something doesn't seems right: «And ... and then who...»

Seth laughs softly, lets his lips stretch and show perfect teeth - legacy of years spent with the brace: «I was sixteen, okay? She was my first girlfriend, a serious relationship that lasted nine months... and when she left me she also had the care to break my heart»in his eyes I can see the vague nostalgia of a distant memory, on his cheeks the slight blush of embarrassment. I had never heard him confess to such a thing, I had always believed that no one could find the courage to break up with him, but apparently I was always wrong.

His smile loosens a little: «I'm not as insensitive as you all think» he says softly, brushing his nose with the tip of mine: «Now what plans do you have for the night?»

**********

I warned Caro just in time, but especially at the perfect moment. I found her perched on the counter, trying to find me on the right and missing to ask me if, if I had nothing against it, we could postpone the "sleepover party" we had planned - the only reason why Catherine had given me permission to stay out was, in fact, the fact that the next day I would have gone to school accompanied by another student, but nobody would have ever suspected that the program changed so drastically.

So my friend ran away with the beau known to the local, a subject I couldn't even glimpse at his face, while I let myself be kidnapped by Seth.Between bus stops and a few minutes of walking under his arm, we ended the evening in the apartment that only a few weeks before had seen me in underwear. Morgestern's house welcomed us in the torpor of the heating turned on, in the scent of jasmine incense and in the soft light of the abart-jour always light on so as not to leave Chucky in the dark.

The walls listened to us, while timidly I asked him to tell me about his first love, about how it was, for the womanizer that he is, to accept to be left in that way - and he did not make himself pray, he described with irony and sweetness that memory in which, at times, I almost reflected myself.

Then his ornaments looked at us. They witnessed a new and tender kiss that became that of a good night - because unlike me, maybe he failed to counteract the tiredness of a day spent serving customers and preparing breakfasts, snacks, take-out trays and how much other, or perhaps because suddenly he had the same thoughts that hours later reached me.

In his bed, which hosted me under the scented sheets trying to keep me company for the first sleepless hours and then cradling me in a not so pleasant sleep, I had the chance to reckon with reality, one of those I would have preferred to avoid. For the time spent awake and in solitude, I observed all that Seth has in the room, moving from books to CDs, from clothes folded here and there on the furniture to the photographs - and it was then that I crossed my face with Jace's. He's there looking straight into the camera, while the soft light that enters from beyond the curtains sends strange reflections on the glossy paper.

Despite the smiling expression in the shot framed above one of the shelves, I felt judged by his fixed gaze: I disappointed him, even though he doesn't know it yet. I put Morgenstern before him, letting my selfishness prevail over what was right to do.

I let myself go, voluntarily ignoring the consequences of the choices made, but I know from me that I will have to tell him, sooner or later.

And it was this thought that tormented me, making me turn over and over again between the covers, trying to undermine the already pervasive magic of the evening. So I came to terms with the feelings of guilt, the hesitations, the doubts, all disguised as unlikely dreams - until the slight vibration of my cellphone, at the dawn of 7:00 am, didn't decide to put an end to it.

With a thick mouth and the will to live of a sloth, I reached over the headboard, bumping against a lamp first, then at the ornamental ashtray and finally catching the devil's contraption.

The light of the display, clearly more intense than the one that permeates the room, hurts my eyes, forcing me to squeeze my eyelids and moan a little before finding the strength to support its brightness. In the end, when I finally manage to focus on the icons and letters on the screen, I find myself dealing with an unexpected notification, a sender that makes my stomach tighten in a vice that is anything but pleasant.

That all the paturnias I tried to cope with recalled him? Is it possible that my brother heard the thoughts I gave him?

Feeling a lump in my throat and my heart throbbing I lower the banner, so as to see a good preview of the message - but it is shorter than expected and it worries me even more.

Call me, we need to talk.

And perhaps I feel more anxious now than in the face of Seth's confessions, to unforeseen questions or to the expectations that precede my mother's outbursts.

What should he have to say to me so urgently? Why did he have to write this message at dawn?

I pull myself straight, without taking my eyes off the dark letters that dominate the light background.

What do I do? Should I call?

A look rises and flies towards the door that divides the bedroom from the living room. It is ajar, allowing me to remain constantly listening to what happens in these four walls that are Morgenstern's apartment, but no noise comes from the other room. Perhaps, unlike me, he is still sleeping; who knows what time awaits him tomorrow, what commissions his agenda brings. Would I risk disturbing him? Would he hear my concern?

I could wait to leave, to be in a more intimate and secluded place, but the curiosity to hear what Jace has to tell me becomes urgent.

My feet slide out of the blankets, they freeze before touching the carpet and, as soon as they are stable on the floor, they move lightly in the direction of the door.

I peek through the empty space created between the door and the jamb, while my stomach twists just enough to make me feel upset. I sharp the view in the gloom, hoping not to discover anything unpleasant, but then, as soon as the eyes get used to the lack of light, I am heartened.

He is there.

Seth is lying on the sofa that discovered us accomplices for the first time, who witnessed kisses and caresses. He is curled up under a plaid from the tribal fantasy and, next to him, Chucky rumbles with as much serenity.

Now that I've made sure of his lethargic state, I can dare call.

So I definitely close the only thing that keeps us together in the morning that is rising and, feeling my guts tilting more intensely, I go back to staring at the screen of my cell phone.

My brother's chat is there that scrutinizes me, as does the pale icon of a telephone receiver. It calls and repudiates me at the same time until, removing the palm from the wood in front of me, I decide to press it, making our photo together appear in large.

I hesitate to bring the smartphone closer to my ear, allowing me a few moments to better observe ourselves. We have two smiles so similar, the same hazel eyes full of life - but above all we squeeze hard to be able to stay both in the same selfie. But after what I've done, I doubt he can still hug me like that, or at least any soon.

«Jay?» Jace's voice brings me back to reality, distracting me from memories and making my eyelids slam several times. Was he waiting for my call? Is it really such a vital issue?

«Hey...» I whisper timidly, moving away from the door to make sure the conversation is not heard by the landlord - whatever's at stake I would prefer if one didn't know about the other's presence.

I move a few slow steps toward the window, leaning against the edge of the wall to observe the life that begins to fill the streets, but before I can even realize a thought, my brother bursts from the eardrum on which I placed the phone: «Are you with Seth?»

His question displaces me, my heart leaps in my throat and suddenly I feel faint. How does he know?

Between London and Paris there are more than four hundred and fifty kilometers, not even with Superman's powers could he scrutinize my moves.

I bite my lower lip, even going so far as to torture it: «Why should I be with him?» I asked with a naivety that I can understand by myself being fake. The lies, as I have already specified, are something I can tell.

Lying is a dowry, whoever owns it can have anyone in his hand, but unfortunately for me in my hands I can't tighten anything.

«Because you were in the same pub, apparently... so answer me» he growls in a low voice, certain of knowing the truth - and indeed it is. And I don't know whether to bother me more is the fact that he knows, in who knows what way, or the fact that I have no idea how he could react: «Are you shadowing me?» I ask with a bang, taking a hand immediately to my mouth with the fear of having raised the tone a little too much.

I strain my ear towards the door, but still no noise. Maybe the landlord didn't hear me.

«I make sure nothing happens to you, Jay, which I think is very different. Adrian told me he saw you leave with him, so am I wrong to assume you're with him?» There is hatred in his words, but also concern. I feel the inner struggle he is facing, the one between his angry friend and his caring brother and, perhaps defeated by this affection of his that shines so clearly, I find myself shaking my head.

«No» hiss, guilty.

I am sure that he felt it, that he managed to steal what is attacking me - in fact he is silent, abandoning me in an ever more oppressive silence.

My brother does not utter a word, letting the weight of the actions I performed fall on me like a boulder, crushing my chest. I had never felt his disappointment so clearly, but above all I had never experienced the feeling of being the cause of such a reaction.

The incisors try to pierce the flesh of the lip, too unkind to pity me: «Jace...» I try to call him, perhaps in an attempt to know if he still here, beyond the receiver, but above all with me. Now, this call is the only thing that keeps us tied up and if he were to put me down I would feel like the worst person in the world - and I would never let me find myself in tears in the room of the boy I'm in love with.

A noise makes me jump, shaking more. Something I can't name must have crashed to the ground, going to pieces: a vase? A plate? A glass? - it is difficult to know, but certainly Jace has lost his temper.

«What the fuck is on your mind?» He asks me furiously: «That one punched you, do you remember?» He doesn't even call him by name, making me understand how serious their bickering is. A month has now passed, yet his anger does not seem to have died down: is it not enough to apologize? To step back?

The burning in my eyes makes me understand that I am about to cry, that I have exceeded the tolerance threshold of all the tension accumulated so far - but I can't cry, I don't have to!

Jace resumes, now in an exasperated tone, almost explaining for the umpteenth time an obvious thing - and perhaps it is: «Jane, he is Seth Morgenstern, okay? Whatever he told you is doubtful, do you understand? And then with what excuse did you let yourself be dragged to his home, uh?»

The first tear falls, slides down my cheek and seems to corrode the flesh - it creates a furrow that I fear anyone will see. How do I tell him? How do I tell him he kissed me, that he told me to feel something for me? And can I try to find an excuse? No, I can not. Nothing that could come to my mind would be credible enough.

«He ... I ... I ...» I stammer, unable to formulate a sentence. Yet his question needs an answer, even if I would rather be silent.

His new dubt arrives unexpectedly, he takes me off guard: «Did he slept with you?» His voice is a mixture of disbelief, anger and concern - and knowing what his next move could be, I hasten to intervene. I'm not ready to end up in the police station for assault.

«No!» Once more I close my mouth, then free it and, to avoid in any way Seth's ears catching even half a syllable of our conversation, I turn to the French: «Non... comment peux-tu penser ça?»

«Because I know him, Jay. Because I know how he behaves with girls» yes, I also know how he behaves, after all, the paranoia that beset me also included this.

«Il ne se comporterait jamais comme ça... avec moi» I say, perhaps trying to convince me more than he - because if it is my brother to say aloud certain things, they seem more real and threatening, then Jace knows Seth better of me and if he fears that he can behave like an asshole even with his little sister, then I should really go back to dreaming about him and never, ever touch him.

«Es-tu sûr? Qu'est-ce qu'il t'a dit?» he asks again, perhaps trying to figure out how to make me think about the issue.

No, I'm not sure, yet in his eyes I saw real emotions: jealousy, interest, tenderness. I did not dream about them and I am convinced of this - but there is an enormous difference between seeing something and knowing what goes through his mind: «Peut-être» I finally blow, almost sighing: «Je fais confiance à Seth».

He snorts, almost as if he had no idea how to change my mind: «I don't, instead, that's why I need to know that you won't be fooled by his looks and nice words. Seth behaved like an egotist, an asshole, and above all he betrayed a ten-year friendship, okay? Only this should make you understand how little you can trust him» my brother finally confesses, as I imagine him running a hand over his face.

So the bickering started because of Morgenstern?

«What did he do?» I take the opportunity and the moment of apparent calm to ask him, to understand, to have enough information to be able to plan a possible peace. Jace, however, is far-sighted and certainly more aware of me.

«Nothing that should interest you» he bursts out, immediately cutting off the speech, even though I would like to know more. He pauses briefly, then resumes: «Anyway, I want you away from him until we talk about the matter in person, did you hear me?»

«Et si je ne voulais pas rester loin de lui?» a flurry of shivers fills my body as I dare to ask that question, while I challenge his will.

«Excuse me?»

«Tu as entendu. Je ne pense pas que je veux rester loin de lui… en bref, tout à coup, j'ai la chance d'être avec le gars que j'aime et je ne pense pas que je veux abandonner cette opportunité» I confess all in one breath, feeling my heart accelerate and my cheeks become hot at the very idea of having finally said it aloud.

But my brother seems to only grasp what he wants: «Did he touch you?»

«What? No! No, I already told you. Jace, I... okay, you had a fight, but the fact remains that I love you both, okay? You are my brother, but... » I pause for a moment, looking up at the closed door and trying to force myself and decide once and for all how to handle this situation. Although at first he worried me with his jealousy at The Elder and the Moon, I can't deny that I was pleased, just as I can't lie about his kisses that I liked from the first to the last; they have the ability to make me feel a blaze of sensations that fill my heart almost to the point of bursting it. And Seth makes me tremble in that strange and right way, in that way that for now it's just his - and I don't want to give it up: «Je suis amoureuse de lui depuis des années» I say more decisively than I expected.

«But he doesn't love you» he blurts again, strong in his belief that I don't understand.

«How can you tell?»

«Precisely because I don't have a single certainty to refute the thing, I say it» his tone goes up again, the eardrum hurts: «So until we talk about it in person, if he touches you I'll make him repent» and to follow, only the sound of the call ended.

Why doesn't he want to accept it? Why doesn't he want to trust Seth? Why is it so hard to believe that I can be worth more than a nothing?