(Book 1 in If I Could Series)
Fourteen alphabets. Four words. One text. And that was enough to upturn my entire life and all the beliefs I held about love.
𝗠𝗲 : 𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘔𝘦, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳
And then I pressed send.
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Vienna Bell, run by he...
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I quickly face timed Jenny, growing worried. Jenny wasn't the person to keep calling in the middle of the night and so many times at that. If there was a problem, she'd usually just leave a text and wait for me to reply and then delve further.
But this; so many missed calls, this wasn't her.
And as the facetime went unanswered, my anxiety increased a level. I watched as Kyst took the bread from my plate, buttered it and held it at my mouth, nudging me to open up.
I opened my mouth, bit down on the bread as my hands flew over my phone, quickly typing Jenny a text.
Me : is everything okay?
"Thank you," I said to Kyst as he helped me take another bite of the bread and I kept my phone to the side.
I took the bread from his hand and turned on my stool so I was facing him besides me and froze, watching his eyes rove over my body. I looked down at my black shorts and white shirt that I had borrowed from Lily's closet, smoothed my hand over the fabric and tilted my head again to assess him.
His eyes darkened, his lips parting as his hand reached out to fist the hem of my shirt. My breathing grew quicker. "Wha-what are you doing?" I asked, eyeing how he tugged the shirt downward.
"That's-" he shook his head deliriously, as if what he was thinking wasn't making sense. Licking his lips, he looked back at me. "That's mine. You're- they're my clothes," he said, again roving his eyes from the shirt clinging to my shoulders to my mid-thigh and the black shorts falling just below my knees.
It clicked then. Why, even though these clothes belonged to Lily- who by the way, was almost the same size as me except the larger breasts that she had- they felt as if they were three sizes bigger on me. Because these weren't Lily's.
"Why were they sitting in Lily's closet then?" I asked, ignoring the swarm of butterflies invading my belly at the thought of Kyst having worn these clothes, maybe even slept in these, gone running, maybe to the gym?
The moment felt intimate; personal. Girl friends didn't wear their guy friend's clothes and revelled in the feel of it being oversized and extremely comfortable; nor did they try to sniff the clothes stealthily, hoping it smelt like the guy.
Something was one hundred percent wrong with me anytime I was in this man's presence and I was just as thrilled as I was afraid to realise that i didn't want to find out why I suddenly lost all my mind around him. I just wanted to live in the moment; cherish the way his eyes widened slightly and his tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously as if the mere thought of me in his clothes was driving him just as crazy as it was me.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he glanced at the bread in his plate, picked it up and took a bite of it. With a mouthful of it, he refused to look at me and muttered, "She probably stole it."
