Forbidden Love: Fate (Zac and Ivy Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

“No. That four-eyed geek can’t take you,” I
shout, as if by doing this she will choose me over Samuel.

How stupid can I be to act this brash? I
know she dislikes me acting in this tyrannical manner of mine, but
right now I can’t control myself.

“Sam is not a geek,” she says in that
impassive tone of hers.

“You still can’t go with him,” I demand.

“You can’t demand me not to go out with
Sam,” Ivy says, picking up her paintbrush and dabbing onto the
canvas again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I say calmly,
clenching and unclenching my fists, trying very hard to control my
temper. Sam and Ivy together make my blood boil. I sit back down
again once I’ve regained control of my temper.

Ivy’s right. I can’t control her. I can’t
demand her to do anything. Even if I lost this round to that
four-eyed geek, I’m still going to make Ivy my girlfriend. See
who’s the last one standing. Samuel or me.

We don’t say anything else. We just sit
there in silence.

To stop this deafening silence, I ask,
“How’s Moon doing? Is she well? Her diabetes not playing up?”

“She’s fine.”

“Has she been eating the sweets I gave
her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh,” I let out. “And you. Have you been
keeping well? Eating well? Sleeping well?”

“I’m fine.” And that’s it. She doesn’t say
any more.

There’s another long stretch of silence. I
hate silence. It’s frightening not to be able to hear any sound at
all. That’s why I always have Elsa with me, everywhere I go.

I curse myself at this very minute. Maybe if
I had Elsa with me, I could confess to Ivy easily. Maybe sing her a
song as my confession, instead of talking to her like this.

Because I don’t know how to broach the
subject of my confession, I look for something else to do in the
meantime. My eyes catch sight of Ivy’s messy bun atop her head.

“You know,” I say, “if you put your hair in
that messy bun, it destroys your hair.”

“Zac, don’t.” She flinches when she feels my
fingers touching her hair.

I don’t listen to her and, without her
permission, take the band out. Her hair becomes loose and flows
freely like a waterfall.

Her hair is so beautiful. Everything about
Ivy is so beautiful. Without knowing, my fingers start threading
through the tresses, untangling them, separating them so they run
more freely between my fingers.

“Zac, what are you doing?” she speaks, a
slight shudder to her breath.

“I’m combing your hair,” I tell her as I
continue to run my fingers through the strands.

“Stop it,” she says, her breath heavier.

“No. I want to touch your hair. It’s
beautiful,” I reply.

Her hair is so soft. Why have I never
touched it before? I take a bunch of her hair and place it against
my nose and inhale. It smells nice and fresh, like she just washed
it.

“Zac, let my hair go. You have no right to
touch my hair,” she begs, her voice breaking.

But I don’t listen to her. “I have the right
to touch your hair, Ivy. I’m your friend.”

I brush her comment aside and sink my whole
face into the realm of her chestnut tresses, kissing them, inhaling
them, embracing them, and when it’s not enough to satisfy my
craving, my arms go around her body and I hug her, pulling her body
closer to mine so I can nestle into the nape of her neck. There I
inhale her hair again, taking in her sweet scent, kissing her hair,
drawing all of her sweet nectar. God, I could lose myself with just
this simple action.

“God, Ivy, you’re so beautiful,” I groan,
feeling my pulse plummeting to at all-time high and my ears
ringing. I want more. I need more of Ivy.

Through my lust-filled haze I pull at her
cardigan until her shoulder blade is exposed. Seeing naked skin, I
drop a kiss on her shoulder. And then one little kiss turns into
two and then three and then four. And before I know it, I rain
kisses on Ivy’s shoulder. But I still want more. So I part her hair
to reveal the nape of her neck and start planting kisses there too.
Ivy trembles within the folds of my embrace.

“No, don’t do this, Zac. You can’t do this,”
she begs me again. But still I don’t listen.

“Yes. I can do this. I’m your friend,” I
find myself answering.

“No, you can’t,” she says, her body shaking,
trying to free herself, but I only hold on to her tighter,
increasing the strength of my trap around her, pressing her back
onto my chest.

“Yes, I can,” I say determinedly. “I’m your
friend. I can touch you.”

And when the kisses on her shoulder and neck
are not enough, I kiss a trail down her earlobe and up along the
jawline of her chin. Cupping her chin, I tilt her face upwards so
she’s slightly facing me. From this angle, I take her lips once
again.

God, it’s been so long, far too long. I
missed those lips. I need those lips. They’re like my bloodline. I
suck at them; they taste crispy and sweet, like wine if that’s what
wine would taste like.

I’m drowning, Ivy. I’m drowning in you.
Ivy, I love you. I want you,
I tell her through this kiss.

Again and again, I lunge my tongue into her
cavity and take my fill, capturing her tongue, drawing out all her
scent and nectar.

“Zac… urggghhh… nnnnn…” Ivy lets out between
our kisses when I come up for air.

“Yes, Ivy, yes. I can touch you because I’m
your friend. I’m your friend. Ivy. That’s why I can do this,” I
mumble in my heated craze and then go in for the second round.
Again and again, while I kiss and mesh my lips to hers, I mumble
this out, telling her I’m allowed to do this.

“…mmm… ugghh… No, you don’t.” She yanks away
from me, somehow managing to break my protective circle. Ivy turns
to face me for the first time.

“Ivy,” I speak, coming out of my lustful
craze. I look at Ivy and my eyes widen in pain.

Ivy, she looks horrible. What has she been
going through? I knew I was affected, but it makes my journey to
misery seem a walk in the park compared to the hell she must have
been facing. She has hollow eyes and cheeks. It looks like she
hasn’t even slept nor eaten for days.

Juliet, my sweet Juliet. Why are you not
looking after yourself? Even though you were affected by our fight,
you still have no right to do this to your own body.

I go to embrace her again and take her face
between my palms. “You lied to me, Ivy. You said you were sleeping
well. Look at your eyes. They’re all hollow.”

“Zac. Let me go.”

I ignore her and start tracing the outline
of her eyes.

“I said don’t touch me.” She yanks her face
away like she’s been burned and goes to stand a good distance from
me.

“Why?” I ask her. “Why can’t I touch you?
We’re friends.”

“We’re not friends,” she seethes at me.
“I’ve told you already that I’m no longer your friend. The day I
left you at the hospital.”

“No, Ivy. I don’t believe you. You’re still
upset. You’re still mad about that accident. Inside, I know you
still want to be my friend. How long do you need? I’ll give you
more time. Just don’t say we can’t be friends. Tell me, just tell
me if you need more time. I’ll give it to you. I promise I won’t
bother you and interrupt you again. Just tell me. I want us to have
a good relationship again.”

“Stop saying the same thing over and over
again. How many times do I have to tell you I no longer want to
hang out with you? I no longer want to be your friend. I don’t need
any more time to dwell over this matter. I want to move on with my
life.”

“That’s good.” I go to embrace her, holding
on to her tight. Ivy struggles out of my grasp like a fish, but I
don’t release my grip. “Move on with your life, Ivy. Forget about
the past.”

Ivy stands still. This is strange. Usually,
she would struggle. Why is she not struggling like before?
Curiosity makes me release her. I part her hair and look into her
face.

“Yes, Zac. Move on with my life. A life
without you in the picture, a life without being reminded
constantly of Dillon whenever I see you.”

Like I’ve been burned by hot flames, I pull
back and unleash my anger. “You’re not being fair, Ivy,” I shout at
her, tears threatening to come out. “You know I can’t decide my
fate. You know I can’t change who I’m related to. Why can’t you
differentiate that much? Why do we always come to the same point?
Why do we always argue about the same thing? You know I’m not
Dillon, yet every time we talk, it’s always about that. What has
that got to do with us?”

“It has everything to do with us,” she
shouts back at me. “I am the one your brother almost killed in that
accident. I can’t live knowing the brother of the man who had
killed my family is a friend of mine. It hurts too much.”

“Ivy,” I stress. “Why? Why can’t you ever
forget about the past?”

“Because of your eyes. They’re like
Dillon’s.” She turns away from me, her gaze no longer on me.

I want to shake her. I want her to look at
me. Why can’t she forget about the past? Even though she said she
wants to look toward the future, she keeps on saying the same thing
over and over again, but she can’t look at me in the face.

“What do I have to do for us to be friends?”
I shake her. “Do you want me to scratch my eyes out? I could even
be blind just so I could be next to you.”

“You don’t need to go to that extreme. Just
don’t talk to me in the future. Just pretend we’re strangers. That
should be enough for me.”

“Ivy,” I cry. “Why did you say that? Why are
you being so cruel?”

Her words, they are like a knife, stabbing
into my heart again and again. It’s so painful that I can barely
breathe.

“I am a cruel person, Zac. Hate me, Zac.
Don’t come near me, Zac,” she says, fighting back the tears welling
up in her eyes.

“No, no, Ivy,” I tell her when I see the
look in her eyes. “You’re not cruel. You’re the kindest person I
know. You’re so devoted to your family. You take care of them. I’ve
never seen anyone like you before. Ivy I… I…” Before I can say I
love you, I plunge in ahead of time, surprising her, forcing
another desperate kiss on her. This is what I’ve wanted from the
very beginning. This is what I want to do, to touch her, to kiss
her.

My passion and emotion that I have kept
hidden from her breaks free from the tightly enclosed lid that I
have kept wrapped up for so long. I want to tell her this is what I
want. This is what I need.

Juliet. I need you. I need only you. My
Juliet. You’re the only one that can satisfy my craving.

I kiss her some more. But the more I kiss
her, the more she struggles against me until she breaks down and
cries.

“Let me go, Zac,” she cries into my
shoulder. “Stop doing this to me. Just stop doing this to me,
please.” She trembles and shakes. Her body is as light as a feather
as she clings onto me, leaning onto me to rest against my frame.
“It’s too painful. Just too painful. I can’t bear this anymore.
Please, just let me go. Let me go, please.”

“I’m sorry, Ivy. I’m sorry.” I hug her
close, holding her tight as she cries in my arms.

What am I doing? Why am I constantly finding
myself forcing myself onto her? I love her. I should treat her with
respect.

After a period of emotion, her tears die
down and she shifts against my arm, breaking herself free. I let
her go. She turns her back to me and starts putting her things away
in her backpack.

“Ivy,” I lean in, wanting to touch her. “Are
you leaving?”

“Don’t touch me again, Zac,” she says, her
icy tone firing back at me. “That was the last time you can touch
me.” Ivy turns back to resume her packing.

She picks up a craft knife and starts
packing it away too. I lean in again, wanting to stop her, but in
the next second, I feel a sharp pain running across the palm of my
hand all the way to the tips of my fingers. I can’t register what
happened. I pull my hand back like lightning and stare at it.

Shit. My hand. It’s bleeding.
I
glance at the craft knife in Ivy’s hand. There’s blood on it. My
blood. Ivy cut my hand.

I look up at Ivy. She’s paralyzed. Her face
is pale, her eyes wide open. A look of horror washes over her pale
complexion as her eyes stares fixatedly on my bloodied hand. Her
hand trembles as she takes in the sight.

Oh God. Ivy. Ivy. She’s scared.

“It’s okay, Ivy. I’m okay.” I reassure her,
stepping closer to her.

I’m seriously not okay. I’m feeling dizzy
already.
Oh shit. I think I’m going to faint.
I can feel a
dull throb where the blood is oozing out. Why is there so much
blood? When is my blood going to stop gushing out? Shit. There’s
blood everywhere, even on the floor. I hope Mrs. McIntosh isn’t
going to go berserk when she sees her newly lined floor being
painted with blood.

I hate the sight of blood anywhere on my
body. I feel sick looking at it. Just the sight of it sends an
unpleasant taste in my mouth and a queasy feeling in my stomach.
But more than anything, I dislike the color of it. A very ugly red
color that stains anything and everything.

“Grab me a towel, Ivy, please, anything to
stop this blood,” I instruct her.

Ivy is so shocked to see blood on my hands
and the floor that she doesn’t respond. Her face grows paler, and
her lips start trembling. She shakes her head and her breathing
quickens.

“Ivy, Ivy,” I keep calling her name. “I’m
okay. Don’t be scared. See. I’m fine,” I tell her again, laying my
hand out for her to see.

Big mistake. She heaves even more. Her
breath coming out even faster and faster.

Shit. Ivy has a fear of blood.

Suddenly, out of the blue, I hear a screech.
I turn to the door where the sound is coming from and there is
Ashley running towards me.

“Ah. My God, Zac, your hand’s bleeding,”
Ashley screams. “Zac, are you okay? Someone grab a tissue. Zac’s
hand is bleeding.” Then Ashley turns to face Ivy.