1. Pure Obsession (Finn) - Chapter Five


    Date: 10/9/2014, Categories: Reluctance, Author: SITTING, Rating: 20, Source: LushStories

    With Daniel and Vincent gone and the ballet season over, at least for the summer, I finally got her to myself. We settled into a routine, seeing each other almost every day, and the hours always seemed to pass so much faster when I was with her. I soaked up every moment of it, living for the small things, like sharing coffee, holding her hand and waiting outside when she went shopping for new shoes. She was like a regular girl in so many ways, with a love for summer dresses, perfume and high heels, and an ingrained aversion to fast food. There were so many shoe shops in Covent Garden, all the way along the appropriately named Neal Street. She joked that it was no coincidence; Neal Street and Alessandra O’Neal had a genetic connection. We spent long afternoons there, and even though I didn’t give a damn about shoes, I never really found it boring. How could I find it boring? I loved watching her puzzle over whether the gorgeous, expensive designer sandals were really all that better than the marginally different cheaper version. I wanted to buy it all for her, only to make her happy, to give her the world and every last thing she wanted. Sometimes I’d consider telling her the truth, at least part of it, but I always saw sense. The truth was ugly. Ugly and beautiful didn’t mix. Opposites didn’t attract. At least, not often. I was living in the present, enjoying my life and there was no need to think back. The past was in the past. Time apart made time together even sweeter. ...
    In the mornings she’d be at the gym or going to classes to keep in shape while I was still cleaning at the LBC. They had a summer school going on for students, so even though there were no performances, I still had a job to do. The shifts changed, I had to plan my hours out and yet it was worth it because I knew at the end of the day, I’d have time with Alessandra. We spent evenings sitting out on her fire escape or my roof, legs dangling through the railings as we talked about life and dance and photography. She had this camera which she started carrying everywhere with her, snapping pictures of pedestrians and cabs and random plants and buildings which she thought were beautiful. I’d cook dinner for us on the lazy summer nights, and we’d sit on the windowsill in my flat, gazing out at the world and she always wound up telling me what a great cook I was. I’d never really taken an interest in cooking before; it was just something I’d always done without conscious effort. I didn’t focus on it, or write down recipes; I would just throw good ingredients into a pot or tray, and if it tasted decent, I’d make it again. It was something I’d been doing since I was a teenager, and I’d never really shared anything I cooked with anyone. Alessandra was the first, and all of a sudden she was my biggest fan. She thought all my food was delicious, that I was a genius and that I should set up a restaurant. We’d fantasise about it when we were too restless to sleep, lying in the sweat-soaked ...
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