01 Part III

She followed him into the bathroom once more, letting him seat her on top of the counter. He had gripped her waist softly as he lifted her up (something that seemed so unnecessary, but something she'd like to do anything but debate), and she instantly began to swing her legs, watching as he dug through the cabinet underneath. He busied his glance away from the button of his button up she wore that threatened to come undone from her bust, her nipples peaking through, most likely from the cold of her wet hair that had begun to dry in neat, perfect curls he would have sworn were styled.

He began by removing her shoes, along with her socks before he set them to the side, retrieving the towel she had used and steadying his breathing as he patted down her leg in attempts to clear the blood. He managed to clean her pale skin before dabbing the rather small, but deep wound he knew would probably leave a scar on her perfect, pale skin.

She inhaled sharply as he smoothed a band-aid against the sore, his thumbs working into her skin before he scrunched up the wrappings, climbing to his feet from his crouch and stepping on the peddle of the bathroom bin. He tossed the wrappings away before gathering the towel, stepping back into his room and discarding the very towel with the wet clothes as he leant over and picked up the basket, placing it against his hip.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, his back to her as she slid off the counter and stood by the doorway. His question leant towards a statement.

"No,"

"Come on, I'm making you something to eat." He replied with finality, waiting as she huffed, turning her eyebrows inward, and made her way to his side, following him down the hallway wordlessly as the corridor opened out into a large open floor plan dining room and kitchen. "Just take a seat at the table, I'll be right back..."

The thing that annoyed her the most was that nothing that man said was an open statement or an invitation. Though she knew the brightness of the man's intentions, the concept she was being told what to do all belittled, excited and frustrated the girl.

He disappeared around the corner, following his words, leaving Genevieve to herself as she slowly made her way towards the table where she took a seat, her eyes wandering around her surroundings. She pondered if her family had even noticed she had left yet, she knew for a fact that they did not care if they knew or not, so what difference did it make? She could be having a worse birthday, she should be happy that she's in this man's house rather than out on the street, being harassed when the man from the road had his way with her. There was no way in hell that she could ever defend herself against him and his inevitably putrid breath.

Moments later, he emerged from the hallway, watching the girl who drew patterns on the table's surface with her fingertip, so interested in the task at hand, and too focused to notice him as he stepped into the kitchen. He pulled the fridge door open.

"What do you want to drink?" He asked, glancing from the contents of his fridge and over to the girl, furrowing his eyebrows at her stilled posture and blank expression. He was comforted by the sound of rain pelting each surface of his house, filling the silence where words did not. Aside from the weather, silent was earth's natural state... a curious topic, a topic that left him fond of even the gentlest breeze.

"I'm not thirsty," He watched as she shrugged lightly with her words.

He swung the fridge door shut and crossed the kitchen over to the girl, crouching by her seat as he looked up at her. "Come on, I've got birthday cake... doesn't that make it special?" He reached up daringly, very aware he was crossing his boundaries and her own personal space as he, without invitation, tucked strands of the girls platinum blonde hair behind her ear. It offered him a relief he couldn't quite name - the closeness he felt himself begging for with even a complete stranger.

"I'm not hungry," She shrugged once more, eyes glassy beneath the dull lighting of the sweeping lamps. He knew the expression too well as he acted...

He frowned, climbing up to his feet before he took the girl in his arms, a small squeal of surprise escaping her lips as his hand clumsily but surely gripped her waist and secured her against himself. The action was only of holding the girl in his arms as he made his way back down the corridor -- he was careful (much to Genevieve's dismay) not to touch her anywhere other than her waist, legs and arms -- stepping into his room once more before he dropped the girl onto his bed. One last squeal escaped her lips as she looked up at him, a small smile playing across her mouth as he stood over her with a smile much the same.

"If you're not going to eat or drink, then you're going to bed, and I'm not letting you sleep on the couch," He spoke with a small smirk, crossing his arms over his chest as she opened her mouth to protest.

"I'm not going to sleep in the bed of a guy I don't even know," She replied, her voice quiet though she willed it to ring louder, to make her sound even the least bit assertive- rather than how small and vulnerable this man made her feel. It felt as if they were old friends, something that beckoned each of them, something curious and seductive on an exceptionally rainy evening.

"I'm Jasper," he held his hand out to the girl, offering the gesture of shaking his hand, a tight-lipped smile hugging the girl's generous lips. "And you're Lara, I'd say we know each other pretty well..."

"My name isn't Lara, it's Genevieve," the girl only mumbled irresistibly, bringing herself into a sitting position as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was watching as Jasper took a seat before her, startling her from his close proximity- she could almost feel his breath on her face.

"Genevieve..." he smiled, reaching up and once more and tucking her hair behind her ear. She blinked quickly, a low exhale leaving her chest involuntarily as she pushed her knees together. "That's a nice name..."

It took the girl a long moment to be able to will herself to speak. "I can't let you sleep on the couch, this is your house,"

"I'd sleep in the spare bedroom but I haven't gotten a mattress for that bed yet so I'm afraid it's your only option, kiddo," and with that, the man got up. All Genevieve could do was follow suit -- unsteadily finding her own feet, her hair wet and a subsequent shiver taking form over her own smaller form.

"Why can't I sleep on the couch?"

"Because this is what hosts do for their guests when their guests are cold, obviously upset, having a birthday and need the best night's rest they can get," And with that, the man turned and Genevieve watched his steps as he made his way to his dresser opposite the bed, and from there he retrieved a blanket from a drawer which seemed to make an obnoxious sound as it opened. The perks of antique furniture; odd sounds, odd smells.

As Genevieve made her way to the side of the man again, she couldn't help but notice what sat idly, almost begging for attention or even slight and sloppy use on the dresser's surface; two unused colouring books, price stickers still on, binder not creased. A sad, sad sight, indeed.

Against all better judgement, Genevieve couldn't help but speak. "Colouring books... do you have a child?" 

The man froze as he folded the blanket in his arms. As if the choice was one with grace consequence, he turned to face Genevieve with a grim look in his eyes and a stiff jaw. "No,"

"Is this a fetish you have? You like spending a day at the office and coming home to colour in?" and against the girl's better judgement yet again, Genevieve reached for a book tenderly and flipped over the front page. Not a single crayon had graced its papers.

"Not exactly," He looked tense. Strangely so.

"Oh," and so the girl paused before setting down the book. "Sorry, I don't have the right to pry,"

Yet Genevieve was so sure the man would give nothing but a cold, shut in stare -- as men often did when their 'privacy' (as in interests and deepest feelings) had been breached -- he smiled softly. "Do you like colouring in?"

Genevieve reluctantly and slowly returned the smile. "Guilty pleasure,"

He lifted his chin to nod towards the girl in a gesture that made her heart skip a beat in her chest. "That's why I keep colouring in books,"

"Because you pick up girls off the streets, take them into your home and... let them colour in?"

"No," He paused. "Because the kind of girls I'm in to like to colour in,"

Genevieve laughed -- in the moment, all Jasper could think of was 'damn, is she the most beautiful thing that's ever seen the light of day and the kiss of breath and so many other extraordinary things'. "Ten-year-olds?"

"You see, it's so much easier to break this to girls online than in real life because online your only negative response is blocking me,"

"You being a paedophile?"

"Me being a partner and a carer for women who sometimes identify mentally as people younger than they physically are,"

"Oh, 'DDlg', not paedophilia,"

"You've heard of it before?"

"Heard it before, tried it once, one of my biggest fantasies," As she paused, Jasper thought the exact words before they left her lips... "I'm more than meets the eye, I've been told,"

"You sure are,"

All the pair could do, was return the gaze of the other in a silence that neither had any idea how to break. Yet it wasn't awkward -- it was something else entirely. Tense. It was sexually tense.

So Genevieve turned away and began to make her way back towards the bed she had been condemned to spending her night in. Right when she made her third step and her foot landed on the floor, the man who had stood by the dresser and watched as she turned away in dismay filled her steps in one and a half of his own, grabbed a hold of her wrist with one of the gentlest grips she had ever felt, turned her to face him and placed a hand to the side of her face -- and Genevieve felt what was missing in the gesture and what he was debating against in a tingle of her lips with a certain sense of anticipation. "...are you going to kiss me or what?" Her voice was nothing any louder than a murmur beneath her breath when she spoke again.

Nothing in her life had felt any longer than the time it took Jasper to close the space between them and meet her waiting lips in the motion she had longed for so deeply. Nothing.

She folded so nicely into his arms and her mouth rested so nicely against his -- nothing felt better than the way she fit against him and the way she reacted and moved so gently and in the tiniest of movements. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

And as he found a seat on the edge of his own bed and tugged the girl with him -- she sank down with the tiniest of steps. As she breathed and sighed -- she took in the tiniest of breaths. She was small and delicate and other-worldly and so many things Jasper knew he couldn't be worthy of. It was strange indeed.

Jasper found himself sinking back against his pillows as the girl climbed on top of him -- and he really wished she wouldn't. He wished she'd stay far away from him so he didn't have the urge to clutch her against himself and do everything she asked for him to do... and he wished so dearly one of those requests would be to feel her where he could never bring himself to unless she begged. It was strange that way in the respect that he didn't feel worthy to. He didn't think he'd ever feel worthy to. He barely even knew her, and yet he was so heavily overthinking her and her entire being. It was a strange thing. A very strange thing.

When Genevieve spoke again, she did no more than whisper -- as she had the majority of the exchange. She felt raw and tender and fragile. She was afraid that her voice would give wind to notions of such. "Fück me, please,"

When the man spoke, himself, it came after a long pause. In his silence, he reached forward, brushed hair away from the girl's face and pinned it to the side of her skull with a whisper. "No," and when he spoke, she did little more than give way to a small frown and a look of slight, half-hidden hurt. "Believe me, I want to, but I can't,"

"Why not?"

His small smile deepened affectionately. She longed so deeply to close the space again with a man she had met little under half an hour ago and somehow felt such a deep connection to. "You've had a long night, you should be getting to sleep," and so reluctantly, Genevieve relaxed as Jasper tucked her into his arms and wrapped the sheets around her. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing something she really shouldn't be...