I dug the tip of the dagger into the top of my dresser, the wood curling under the thin sharp blade. This one would hurt if it made contact with someone's skin, likely slicing through before the victim even felt it. But a thousand cuts with this assassin’s blade wouldn't come close to the feeling as I watched Veda run away from me. I'd screwed up. I knew I had. All I needed to do was kiss the girl, the one thing I'd never hesitated to do before. I'd probably kissed more girls then some people would even meet in a lifetime, but in that second with her lips almost touching mine, I froze.
My stomach cramped at the memory and I winced as my pained face mocked me in the mirror. What was it about this girl that messed with my head? Why couldn’t I simply move past her like I’d done with every other girl before her? Why did I not want to?
A soft knock wrapped on my bedroom door and dragged me out of my self-pity.
"Come in,” I called, still running the dagger over in my hands and wishing my father would be the one to come barging in.
Instead, my mother floated into the room. "I didn't see you at breakfast. I had the kitchen prepare all your favorites."
"Thanks, but I wasn't hungry."
"Too busy planning your next great speech, are you?"
"Not exactly.” I slid the dagger back into its case and turned around to lean against the dresser. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking, that's all."
"About what? Maybe I can help."
"I doubt it. I just had an argument with a friend."
"Just a friend huh?" She flopped down in my armchair resting her hands on the sides. A little too comfortable to be leaving soon.
"Have the press already gotten to you?"
"The press? This must have been some argument." She picked lint off her skirt and flicked it in the air watching it slip down to the ground. "But no, I just know that when you've fought with your other friends you tend to throw yourself into physical things. Fencing, riding, even tennis on occasion, but this is the first time you have resorted to sulking, so something must be up."
"I'm not sulking, I'm just… fine, I'm sulking. But it doesn't matter anyway because I messed it up and she's gone."
"Gone? Are you going international again with your exploits?" She rolled her eyes, as a bored look settled over her face. “I know I don’t normally mention it, but you need to start thinking, my son.”
"What are you talking about?"
"How is it that young people never think their parents know half the things they do? I was young and foolish too, you know?”
I rubbed my hands over my face, partly to hide the embarrassment but also to get the image of my mother acting like one of the girls at the tavern out of my head. "But that changed when you met Dad, right? You fell in love with him?"
The humor in her eyes dropped to the floor and shattered like glass. "Of course I fell in love with him. I'm still in love with him and always will be, no matter what happens."
"So he didn't force you to fall in love with him?"
"Force me?” She laughed and tossed her head back against the chair. “Where would you get a crazy idea like that? No, your father would never do such a thing, and besides, you can't force someone to fall in love with you, it just happens. Even if it's not ideal or even when others don't agree, it doesn't matter. The heart will choose and the brain must accept or find a way to deal."
I left the dresser and sat down on the bed with my back to her as I chose my words carefully. "But I've heard he kidnapped you. That doesn't sound like love to me.”
Her skirts rustled behind me, as I pictured her sitting up straighter, her posture likely offended at my brashness.
"There are many things about your father and me that were not perfect. But how we met and how we fell in love are two different stories combined by common characters. Why didn't you just ask me about this before?”
"I'm asking you now."
My stomach turned as I dared to face her. Across the room, her eyebrows knitted together as she thought hard, her fingers laced in a pile in her lap.
“This girl, the one you argued with. Do you think you might be in love with her? Is that where the questions are coming from?"
Love? I never really thought about it like that, not in terms of a word or a status anyway. It was just this thing. This feeling I couldn’t shake since…I didn’t really know when it started, but it kept growing each time I saw her.
"I don't know. I just know that I think of her when she's not around and I can't wait to see her again. I want to know what she’s thinking. Want to see her smile. And when I'm around her I feel more like myself then I ever have before, even if being around her scares me a little bit."
Mom sat beside me on the bed and ran her hand gently up and down my spine. "Then maybe you are. But I can't tell you that for sure, only you
