Book One In The Ahh-Ness Of Things Series: April & Donnie were once inseparable, but now almost six years have passed since she left NYC. What if April O'Neil could set the record straight, once & for all! The only girl down enough to chill with the...
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The smell of coffee brewing, as I sat on his bed, brought back such weird memories. He made me drink two damn bottles of water, before he would make any. Said I was dehydrated from my seizure. I sat there drinking my water, waiting for my coffee, staring at him from across the room. The christmas lights & paper lanterns watching over us like familiar stars. Everybody's room has it's own smell, & his always smelled like oak & books. The oak lingered on him, because that was what his staffs were made from & the oil would absorb into his hands; making them forever a warm, sweet wooden scent.
Sitting on the sink, stitching his busted mouth, he had reached up to hold my bangs from my eyes, as I looked down at him. It was like how someone would caress a face to bring them into a kiss. I related the smell of his hands to those moments. We had so much history, our volumes were rich with the little things, & I wondered about the things someone else might never notice or understand. I couldn't help but think, what if I just stopped; what if I just kissed him. What if while the coffee was brewing, & he was there next to me on the bed, where he'd come to wait beside me; I ran my fingers along his arm & kissed him when he turned to see why. What then? Would he accept me, or just my desire to be with him in that moment. Would I leave; going back to my hotel room tonight to sleep alone, cry, alone, die alone.
I decided it was likely I would be back at the hotel tonight either way; I had only rented it for a week & it was up tomorrow. I would rather go back, not having the added regret of the last time we were together being shallow & sad. I didn't need that sorrow. I'd rather not chance that he'd reject me so I thought back to the last time I left, & reminded myself of how in love he was, then. It wasn't worth the small maybe; that he would give me back a place in his heart. Still, sitting on the sink with my face held so close to his; those deep eyes had been watching me.
We drank our coffee & I tried not to laugh at how silly he looked, attempting to sip his from one side of his mouth; his face lopsided & swollen. The stitches would heal nicely; they met up in a neat vertical line with the cut on his bottom lip. It wouldn't scar too badly; he was a great teacher.
"Do you think you could go for a short walk with me? How do you feel?"
His offer breaking the silence was so unexpected, I nearly shouted "Yes".
"It's ten, maybe fifteen minutes; if we need to go slow."
He looked down at my hands quietly, where I held my coffee cup in my lap. He was measuring how much I had left. "I wanna show you something."
When we went to leave, he held my hand gently, to make sure I was steady. I still felt a little dizzy, like walking in a dream. Seizures make you tired & emotionally drained for a long time afterwards. You feel like you've been swimming for hours & could cry over nothing. I didn't care if that was the only reason why he was holding my hand though; it felt good to feel my fingers wrapped in his.
