The Mating Run by Leeka

Chapter 52

Fake

My eyes flutter open, and I am met with the comforting sensation of being held. by Zeke.

In any other circumstance, being held in such an embrace upon waking up offers a sense of comfort, a quiet reminder of our strong connection. As my consciousness fully returns, a disconcerting truth settles heavily on my shoulders.

Zeke’s arms, which were once a comforting embrace, now feel constricting and suffocating. It isn’t the gentle embrace I expect upon waking; it’s a hold that leaves. me feeling confined.

I shift, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as my senses pick up on the presence of another camera. The camera’s unblinking lens is fixed on us, as if freezing the vulnerability of the moment in time. It’s as if a punch to the gut, the realization washes over me – we are being watched again, our every intimate moment exposed to unseen eyes.

And I just know that it is Zeke’s idea, as the sound of his voice echoes in my

mind.

Anger and betrayal surge through me, overwhelming my emotions.

I carefully untangle myself from Zeke’s embrace, the once gentle motion now filled with a hint of desperation. The weight of my emotions threatens to spill over, creating a heavy atmosphere around me. I crave distance, a breath of air to bring clarity to my thoughts.

I feel manipulated, like a pawn on a chessboard with every move carefully plotted.

The sound of something shifting beside me causes me to tense up, and I let out a quiet curse.

“Alina, what’s wrong?”

Through the silence, Zeke’s voice rings out, carrying a palpable sense of worry. Standing there, I can feel his gaze on me, his eyes filled with confusion. With a tired sigh, he rubs his eye and lets out a quick yawn. Although I despise it, a surge of concern for him floods my being.

At first, I remain silent, not answering. As he continues to stare at me, I let out a frustrated sigh. I mumble under my breath, the words barely escaping my lips.

“I just need to get out and get some air.”

As I speak, my voice trembles with the same intensity as the brewing storm

within.

Zeke’s voice echoes through the air once more, tinged with both anxiety and

perplexity.

“Alina, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

In that fleeting moment, the weight of my emotions makes me contemplate opening up to him, as if the words are begging to be released. I want to ask the question that lingers in my mind – what are we? And what does this mean for us? I fall silent, that we are still being watched, and that someone or something is

aware

observing our every move.

fact that he probably orchestrates all this, making himself

to myself,” I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away from the rain–soaked ground. “Just, you know, think

a sigh, his tone filled with a frustrating

emotions.

in this together, so let’s stick together. If things aren’t right,

any other situation, I would welcome

10 Mar

Fake

seems far from sincere.

turn to him, our eyes locking in

you just please give me some

and with each step I take away from

nook, shielded from the intrusive gaze of the cameras, and allow the rain to drench me. As the rain pours down, my tears blend with the raindrops, silently releasing the emotions that have been suffocating me. Like a bitter aftertaste, the feeling of being used as a pawn in an uncontrollable

within me.

there, thinking to myself, I can’t help but wonder – is there anything real about our connection? Even when Zeke and I have tender moments, it feels wrong because we are just part

to the bone and feeling

and tenderness. I can feel the stark difference between the comforting warmth of the shelter and the biting cold of the rain–soaked world outside,

of urgency, Zeke swiftly covers me with a

from another sponsor.

of security. I hug myself tightly, feeling the dampness seep through my clothes.

with genuine concern, pierces through the heavy silence of the rain. With a gentle touch, he reaches out and brushes away my tears, his thumb leaving a

whisper, careful not to disturb our surroundings.

voice falls on deaf

“What?”

the unspoken truths pressing on my chest. “Zeke,” I begin, my voice

There is a brief flicker of uncertainty on his face as he opens and closes his mouth, unable to find the right words. The heavy weight settling between us is palpable in the silence that

surges through me, the intensity of my

palpable.

I can’t keep ignoring this or I’ll lose my mind. Give it

dampness seeping into my bones, mirroring the storm inside me. Facing Zeke, my emotions boil over with anger, frustration, and

like an unstoppable flood, and I can no longer

my pent–up emotions. As raindrops fall, they mingle with my tears, distorting my view of the person who

torment.

any of this actually real?” Each word I ask him is accompanied by the impact of my punch to his chest. “Stop doing all this stuff to me if you can’t

and regret etched on

the ground and

down my face as my voice cracks with a blend of frustration and hopelessness. “Is anything between us

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my punches, silently watching as all my hidden emotions come pouring out. I feel lost, realizing that the answers I want are

something!” I plead, my fists pounding against his chest. “Tell me this is real. That you’re not

can see a whirlwind of emotions

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