The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

Inhaling her scent, citrus and floral, ignited an even stronger buzz inside me. Like bees building a hive in my brain, each of them humming for me to take my queen.

I’d heard about love at first sight, though I couldn’t claim that emotion. The need to possess her was what fired through my veins, not the sentimental nonsense of hearts and flowers.

“You’re a monster.” “I know.” “Someone will find me.” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing mine. “Someone already has.”

“But don’t you feel how wrong this is?” “No.” He squeezed my hand. “This is the only thing I’ve ever done that feels right.”

“You win.” I rose, hoping he hadn’t noticed that I’d tucked the fork inside my sleeve. “I won the moment I found you.”

That must be what love looks like. I made a note of the warmth that suffused him when he remembered my mother and catalogued it away in my mental filing cabinet. That look meant love. Check.

“What did you want to show me? The well where you keep the lotion?”

“In time—” “Time?” I stepped back. “Time to accept that I’m a prisoner and what, fall in love with you?” “Love?” He followed me again, refusing to give me any distance. “I don’t know what that means.” His eyes darted to my lips, and a hungry glint flashed in his eyes. “I just know you’re mine.”

The more she tried to fly away, the harder I wanted to clip her wings. She was the most precious thing I’d ever found.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” “Let me guess.” She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “You need to return some videotapes?” “Once again, I find the fact that you can quote American Psycho quite telling.” It tells me I’m the only man for you.

“I don’t expect you to understand. But you will.” I pointed at Camille. “She makes me feel.” I pointed at Dad. “Your tears, they should make me sad, right? They don’t. I see you upset and I think ‘I don’t want you to be unhappy’ but I don’t feel your sadness. But her”—I leaned forward, as if proximity might make my dad understand—“when she cries, when she laughs; I feel it in here.” I tapped my chest over my heart. “I’ve never had that, never experienced anything like it. I can’t let that go. Don’t you see?”

“Your dad said you were”—her small white teeth nibbled her bottom lip—“aloof, I think was the word he used.” “I was until you.” “Lucky me.” “I think so.”