Confessions of a libra

Illusion | Credit: Here

27.05.25

He’s got me by the hook and that’s why I’m on my way to his apartment, again. Today I am wearing a red bodycon dress beneath a black cape. Rain threatens to do undo some of the handiwork of my hairstyling. The joys of naturally coily hair. I’m a little bit mad at myself because logically I should be spending less time with him, dividing my time even. Noah acts like a bachelor who has never wanted to consider anyone other than himself long term. I’m mad because I’m smart enough to know better. Yet I focus on all the other things. How well we fit, how compatible our interests are and the fact that no matter how hard he tries to mask, I see who he is anyway. I love who he is anyway.

As I approach his building, I feel his eyes on me. I ignore the awareness that runs over my skin and makes my hairs stand on end. My heart quickens, my hips sashay. My black maryjanes click, clack on the footpath. I ring the doorbell but somehow, I know he is already on his way. I see him come down the stairs the next moment, wearing a cream t-shirt and light brown pants. Such a simple look but no one has pulled it off more.

He always looks pleased to see me. The corners of his mouth pull into a smirk as he opens the door. I must stop myself from stealing a kiss because I know he values his privacy. We always use the lift back up because I’m annoying like that. He presses the button and watches me, amused.

“What? Something I said?” I ask with cheek.

“No,” he says with a little laugh. “You look good though. As usual.”

I roll my eyes but I feel the rush of blood to my cheeks. I thank my lucky stars that my brown skin hides the evidence. We enter the warm cocoon of his home and I feel I’ve arrived. I take off my cape and place my heels by the rack.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers walking into the kitchen.

“Just water thanks.” I say evenly.

I walk into the lounge and take a seat facing the kitchen. I sit with my legs crossed and wait for him to bring my water. He sets it next to me on a table with a coaster because of course. He would never forget the coaster. He sits next to me, leaving enough room for Jesus. He looks at me, still with a cheeky glint in his eye.

“Thank you.” I said in earnest, he always spoiled me.

“Don’t tell me you’re dressed this well just for me.” He states.

“This dress has been neglected for far too long, so I thought I’d take it for a spin.” I smile and keeping cool.

I sense jealousy. Which didn’t make sense since he is always categorical that this relationship could not bloom into anything past this. It isn’t unusual for me to put effort into my appearance. It’s how I keep my life interesting and exciting. I don’t wait to be offered a fine dining experience.

“You sure you don’t have a date after this?” He laughs without mirth and I will my face not to move.

“I don’t but if you want to believe I do, then who will stop you?”

My arms cross defensively before I have registered it. He is so annoying when he gets like this. He likes to throw all these little tests my way. As though it would change anything about our current relationship status. I read the disappointment in his eyes. I get the feeling he wants to start a fight and I’m not taking the bait. I’m exasperated at the thought.

“Never mind that anyway, do you want to resume that movie?” His tone is suddenly light and he scrambles for the remote. For anything other than my piercing eye contact.

I nod wordlessly, swallowing all my jabs. Like a predator he smelt my joy and decided to pull the rug out from under me. As the movie plays, I sit there trying to ease the furrow in my brow. I will myself to take even breaths. While I stare blankly at the screen cycling through thoughts, he slyly scootches over to me.

My body tenses at the feel of a hand on my thigh, just above my knee. Despite myself I look down at the hand. I take pleasure in seeing his hand swallowing up my thigh. Instead, I grab his hand and forcibly remove it from my thigh. A chuckle escapes him, and it takes everything in me not to just start hitting his body senselessly in a fit of rage.

“Is it something I said,” he asks innocently.

“You are annoying. I think I should go.” I say flatly.

Before I can move, he holds my wrist and leans in until I feel his breath fan my cheek.

“I’m sorry. Please stay, for me.” he pleads.

I watch him and contemplate my exit plan. But his company is somewhat addictive, beneath all his manufactured drama. He keeps a pleading expression on his face.

“I’ll stay. But only if you stop making jokes at my expense! I like to look good. Sue me! Obviously I – ”

“ – and you look very sexy. Any man would be lucky to have you. I am obviously the luckiest man in the world.” He interjects. He says every word in a low and serious tone. He looks down at my lips.

My eyes widen and I don’t know if I should laugh, cry or punch this man square in his jaw. My chest heaves in frustration.

“I don’t want you to do this with any other man.” Noah continues.

“Then why-” Once again I am cut off but this time, by his lips on mine.

The kiss is hot and a fight for dominance. He never answers the important questions. He expects me to trust him to know best. To know that he will tell me when it is time for me to know. I hate that because my mind already works over time. While he is trying to maintain a fortress, I am decoding his fortress. He doesn’t trust me to understand him. He doesn’t allow me in and that will be his down fall, our downfall.

I redirect my anger into the passion between us. Everything heightens and I’m too distracted to rage. To think my way to freedom. He pulls me gently until I’m sat across his lap. He holds my face close.

“I’m sorry. Ignore me. Let me make it up to you.”