Twenty-eight: MTOABB

MTOABB

A few feet away from him, and I force myself to stop.

Who am I kidding?

He is impossible to ignore, but why did he have to be so damn cute and make it more difficult to even try.

"Are you moving any closer?"

"So you're talking to me now?" I ask, moving closer but yet still keeping my distance.

He shrugs with his hands still in his front pockets.

"I should be the one that's mad, you know?"

"You think?"

"You lied about Holly, how would you think I would react?" I fold my arms across my chest, trying so hard to control the way in which my words come across.

I don't want him to think I'm still angry, even though deep down -- I still am.

"You could have told me you were sorry," I say, as I watch him stare out to the sky.

"You didn't give me a chance to, Rossita. I never know how you are going to create. It was exciting at first, but now it drives me insane." He sighs as he takes out his cigarette packet and draws one out.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, focusing my attention on the unlit cigarette.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not looking at any other girl that isn't you, I want you to really understand that." He turns to look at me and having his lips utter such an assurance was exactly what I needed.

I nod and we stay there in silence. He pulls out his lighter and brings it close to the cigarette. I continue to stare -- watching it's tip catch fire.

"Are you going to smoke that?" That was a dumb question. "I mean let me try?"

He turns to look at me. "You're a funny one." He shakes his head, looks down at the cigarette and throws it to the ground. He grinds it into the ground and looks at me. "I guess we both don't get to try it."

"Why do you smoke?" I ask.

"I never really had a reason." He leans back against his bike.

The funny thing about relationships is you tend to forget how it all started and it feels like centuries ago when I met him -- round-eyed glasses and all.

"I'm going to go now," he says, turning to his bike and grabbing the helmet.

I stay put, not knowing what else to do or say to make him stay.

I could stand here and say I don't deserve him, but I do and life before him wasn't as exciting as it is now.

"Rossita," he says, turning his head to face me, with one hand still holding onto his helmet.

"Yes." I lift my head up.

"We're good." He pulls out that wrinkly-nose smile that I like and I'm internally swooning.

"Are we?" I ask, still unsure.

"Yes."

"Then why don't you kiss me?" I let my eyes search for his, waiting to see if he’ll make a move or even say something that won’t break my heart further.

"Come here then." He puts his helmet back on the bike handle, and with that, I swiftly move my feet to where he is standing. I lean in, lifting myself to my tiptoes as I hold onto his shirt for support. He places his one hand on my waist and draws me in as our innocent kiss turns into anything but and I realise then -- we are good.

My heart starts racing -- and I let it, knowing that he is the only reason.

"Want to go for a ride?" He asks, our nose still touching as he stares into my eyes and I can see his reflection through his crystal blue ones.

I nod.

He takes the helmet and places it on my head. "Safety first."

He gets onto the bike and ushers me to follow so I do.

"Hold on tightly, okay?" He revs the motor and I squeal, trepidation quickly creeping in.

"I got you. Cincinnati is a good boy, he won't hurt you."

"Who?" I ask.

"The bike." He smiles.

I smile, trying my best to level my breathing.

He grabs my hands and pulls them to wrap around his waist. "Hold on as tightly as you want," he whispers.

So I do. I squeeze onto dear life as the bike starts moving.

My Type of a Bad Boy

We hadn't spoken about his moving and he hadn't mentioned it either, so I didn't want to be the one to bring it up.

I watch him walk towards me with his hands full of food.

"They are out of beef burgers," he says, placing a chicken burger on my lap.

I turn to him to whine.

"Don't look at me, I don't own the food truck." He smiles, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

"Fine, but you still owe me a beef burger," I say.

"And you still owe me millions of kisses."

"Fair enough." I let him pull me in for a peck.

We turn to watch the waves dance to the song of the wind as we munch onto our comestibles.

Comfortable silence -- the only silence I ever want to have with him.

"Not bad, right?" He asks and I have to raise my eyebrow in confusion.

"The burger." He puts his hand to his mouth as he talks with the food still in his mouth.

"It's okay, not as good as a beef burger though."

"You're hurting my feelings." He puts his hand to his chest and I can't help but laugh.

"I like it when I'm the cause of that laughter," he turns to look at me and I smile.

In the midst of chaos he exists and calms me down -- and that should scare me, but here I am -- enjoying what is here in front of me instead of worrying about what isn't.

"Tell me something about yourself-- anything," I ask.

He takes in a deep breath and I watch every motion, from the biting of his bottom lip to the closing and opening of his eyelids.

"I live alone. Well, I mean, I live with Cass, and Jordan sometimes comes and visits -- but other than that, no parents."

"Why is that? If I'm allowed to ask, that is."

"Life happens and a lot of shit comes from that."

"Thanks for sharing," I say and he nods.

We stay like this for a while -- our eyes fixated onto the far end of the ocean as our hands find each other and entwine.

I close my eyes as I ask the clouds to give us white everlasting dreams.

At that moment his phone rings.

He pulls it out and looks at the screen and then me.

Well that can't be good.

"What is it?"

"It's your mom."

"Shit!"

A school night, I should have remembered that much -- and staying out late is not an option in my mom's fat rule book.

"Hi, Mrs. Jenkins." I sit in silence as he exchanges words with mom the other end of the call.

"Yes, she is here with me."

"Okay."

He removes the phone from his ears.

"What did she say?" I ask, and he quickly moves his finger to my lip.

He puts the phone on speaker and I realise then that mom was still on the phone.

I mentally slap myself.

"Hi, mom."

"A school night, Rossita. You know better than that. I expected that when I arrived home, you would be here, not somewhere else."

Embarrassment kicks in as she continues the lecture, knowing that Gomes is sitting right next to me.

"Please do blame me, Mrs. Jenkins. I'm the one who convinced her to spend time with me. I should have known better." Gomes chimes in.

"Oh Prinse, I wouldn't blame you. Rossita should have known better. She knows the rules. I'll give you both an hour and then I want her back here at home. Is that fair enough?" She asks him.

"More than fair."

"Good." And she cuts the call.

I cover my face with my hands. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that," I say, my face is still covered.

He pulls my hands away from my face.

"We have an hour until you're wanted back at home, and I was promised millions of kisses," he says, moving to kiss my neck and then my cheek until he meets my lips.

He places his focus on my bottom lip as he gently nibbles on it and I can't help but smile.

And to think that last week actually happened -- but it was needed to bring us here - and for that I am grateful.

He places his one hand on my cheek, as he draws me in closer.

This moment -- right now, was only made for us to experience and I might fall in love, depending on how he holds me.

And Cinderella's fairytale didn't start out perfect, so I hold on to the hope that someday I'll have my happy ever after, and although it seems unlikely that he'll be my prince Charming, I wish it upon the stars for he's the king of hearts and I'm the queen of spades.