My eyes snap open quickly, the images that were telling a story with no flow disappearing, forgotten. The first thing I do is roll over on my side as I rub the sleep out of my eyes and when I notice how dark it is in here, I blindly reach for my phone and flip it over in my hand. After turning it on, I with bated breath wait to see the time. When I see the seven blinking at me, my eyes widen in horror.
I overslept.
It is way past noon.
My short, power nap just ended up being a deep slumber.
Somehow, after taking a quick shower and changing my garments, I find myself sneaking around outside in the garden under the mercy of the sliver of light reflecting off the moon. I watch the verdant foliage, eyes fixated on the clusters of violet hydrangeas that swayed gently in the light breeze. As I remember the conversation I had with Kai earlier, guilt churns in my stomach.
With a steadying breath, I kneel down and reach out to the beautiful hydrangeas in my father's prized garden. I carefully pluck a few delicate blooms and cradle them in my hands, their subtle fragrance calming my nerves.
These are hopefully offering enough.
In the dark, I rigorously pedal my bicycle in the direction of the familiar house that I have only been to twice. I have no idea what is driving me to embark on this impromptu journey.
The thought of my mum scolding me for leaving the house so late at night crosses my mind, but I can't shake off the feeling of excitement. This is not something I would have done before. I have always been obedient and never thought about rebelling against my mum's rules. But this feeling is strangely exhilarating,
I don't know who this new person I have turned into is, but I strangely do not mind it.
Once I see the wide gate, I hop off my bike and carelessly drop it on the pavement. Realising that I did not inform Kai that I was still coming over to his house, I hurriedly search for my phone in my pocket and dial his number. My chest heaves up and down as I wait for him to pick up his phone. I truly am unfit.
He does not answer for the first few seconds which has me gnawing on the inside of my bottom lip nervously. I hope I didn't come all the way here for nothing.
"Hey," is the first thing he says after answering the call and then he jests, "Look who got some good sleep."
His bright tone has some of the anxiety escaping through my pores. He does sound like he is entirely upset at me. For a second, I stumble over the words to say to him and end up stammering, "Uh, can you come outside for a minute?"
"What?" he murmurs in confusion.
"Can you come outside for a minute?" I reiterate, still drawing large breaths into my lungs.
"Uh, okay."
There is a certain trepidation in his voice. He has no idea what I have just done. I don't even think I have fully computed what I have just done. When I hear footsteps from his end of the call and then a door rattling, my lungs expand with one last deep breath and the flowers tremble in my grasp. Glancing up, I see him opening the rustic wooden door and when he sees me, his eyes widen with a look of surprise.
"I don't know what I was expecting when you told me to come outside, but I definitely was not expecting to see you."
A crooked smile tugs onto my lips and I hold my hand up to wave awkwardly.
With a bit more light entering his eyes and a warm grin tugging onto his lips, the corners of his eyes creasing and dimples appearing on his cheeks, he strolls over to me with a bit of a pep in his step and once stood across from me, he hangs up the call. I look him up and down, his blue pyjamas printed with yellow cars almost drawing a chuckle out of me. His dark brown hair is a bit rugged too.
After he unlocks the gate, letting me squeeze in past him, he picks up my bicycle and pushes it inside. Then he quietly locks the gate behind him.
"I like your pyjamas," my playfulness hopefully does not go unnoticed.
"What, this old thing?" He juts his hip out and poses for me which has me pressing my hand against my lips to quieten my laughter.
When his eyes flicker down to catch the unkempt bouquet in my hands and his face lights up with delight lighting, I nervously hold the flowers out to him.
"Did you just pick those?" he muses with amusement.
I blink at the hydrangeas in my hand, feeling the dirt on my hands which is simply evidence that I did just pick these. "Yeah, my dad is for sure going to kill when he wakes up to see the damage I did to his garden."
"Are those... for me?"
"Mm-hmm. They're a peace offering," I tell him timidly and then my face drops when a thought suddenly enters my mind so I abruptly draw the flowers back. "You're not allergic to hydrangeas too, right?"
He bursts out laughing and then luckily shakes his head. A breath of relief leaves my parted lips and when I hold the flowers out to him again, his features soften and with a pleased smile, he accepts the hydrangeas.
"You didn't have to. Thanks."
"Sorry I'm here so late. I kind of overslept and granted, I probably should have just given you a call instead of coming here so late at night but," I take in a deep breath to calm my nerves, I confess, "I had to see you one more time before you head back to Oxfordshire."
His eyes shimmer with unspoken emotions. "That's really cute but you do know that I'm leaving at about five in the afternoon tomorrow, right? We would have still been able to see each other."
I stare at him, unimpressed. "I would have appreciated it if you had said that earlier while we were on the phone to each other."
He chuckles in amusement and then he tilts his head to gesture for me to follow after him. Then he leads me to his house. "I guess, I was also hoping to still see you today. I'm sorry I made you travel all the way here on your bike."
"It's okay. I wanted to come."
His eyes stick on me intensely before a smile twitches onto the corner of his lips.
He makes a gesture with his hand, indicating that I can go into his house and I cautiously stroll in. He closes the door behind us as I wait, not knowing where to go from here.
The house holds a nice citrus scent to it, like an orange or something like a disinfectant. The interior gives off cosy cottage undertones, especially with the crackling fireplace and the plush sofas, the heads of said sofas covered by soft blankets and pillows.
"My mum is asleep right now," he says in a hushed tone, almost as if he is afraid to wake her up, "Fleance and Akira rarely leave their rooms at this time unless they want a night snack, so hopefully we'll be okay to talk in private."
"Who's Akira?" I ask, following him into the kitchen.
"My sister."
"Oh."
I stop at the doorway when I see a bottle of vodka and a shot glass perched neatly on the island. He takes a seat on one of the stools and after his eyes shift up to meet mine, he must see the curious expression on my face because his eyebrow flicks up questioningly.
"I thought you don't drink alcohol," I say, walking over to sit beside him.
"I tend to not drink ciders and beers because they give me headaches," he clarifies, and I nod in understanding. "I don't drink often though. Probably only when I go out with Richard and Sabina."
"Speaking of, did they go back to Oxfordshire?"
"Yeah, they took an Uber back after I told them that I was going to stay for a bit when you asked me to."
I grow quiet after he says that, having a hard time hiding the grin trying to curl on my lips.
Then I wonder how to bring up the kiss. Do I speak about it now out of the blue or do I want to wait a bit and hope that it casually comes up in conversation? Does he know that it's the reason why I am here right now? He might have a vague idea as to the reason why I am at his house so late at night, right? I need to clear the air especially because of the conversation we had on the phone.
"So, what are you celebrating?" I ask, turning around to slightly face him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the vodkas out at eight p.m. so," I drawl out with a playful look, "what are you celebrating?"
His eyes stay on me for the longest time and I shockingly hold his gaze, my eyes slightly squinting curiously. He then licks his bottom lip anxiously before hesitantly admitting, "I was really anxious."
"What? Why?"
"I kept thinking about what you wanted to talk about after I hung up on our call earlier on today and the more I thought about it, the more nervous I became because I didn't know what you were possibly going to say."
"But," the lump forming in my throat might be because of my heart being in my mouth, "why would that make you nervous?"
His gaze flickers between maintaining eye contact and the bottle of vodka. With his chin buried in his chest, he whispers nervously, "Because we kissed and I thought that cleared up most of the questions I had but now I'm back to questioning everything."
My breath hitches. "Why would that make you nervous?"
"I know that you have a thing with Dominic," he suddenly says which makes my brows furrow in perplex.
I frown.
"And I want you to know that if you have feelings for him, I won't stand in your way. If that kiss was just an "in the moment" sort of thing for you, that's okay with me."
"What makes you think I have feelings for Dominic?"
"I mean, it's kind of obvious with the way you look at each other," he tells him banally. "I realise now that that's why you dropped my hand that night when he came looking for you, isn't it? And also I don't think I have ever seen you take that bracelet off, so it definitely has some sentimental value to you."
At the mention of the bracelet, I glance down at it. The trinkets around it cling against each other when I twist and turn my wrist. My gaze flickers up to look at him again and I notice the small scowl on his face as he looks at the bracelet. Is he… jealous?
To distract himself, he pours a drink into the shot glass and downs it in one go. No lime or salt. His face scrunches up from the bitter taste and when he places the glass down on the marble island, it thuds.
"Are you," I pause, and he glances over at me in interest, "are you jealous?"
His eyes widen a bit at my question, and I don't miss the light blush that colours the tips of his ears. It has me pursing my lips to prevent myself from explicitly smiling.
"I mean," he still avoids my gaze and anxiously he admits, "the mature response from me would be to say that I'm not jealous but that would be such a blatant lie because I, you know, like you..."
The playful grin which was lingering on my face slowly drops as my eyes widen to resemble those of an owl.
"And I mean as more than just a friend."
My chest rises up and down rigidly and I can already hear my heart drumming within my chest. Did he just admit to me that he likes me as more than just a friend?
As in he has feelings for me?
Of the romantic kind?
When he sees my surprised reaction, his eyes also stare at me with intense sincerity. Under the dim kitchen light, I think I see the crimson colour spreading all over his cheeks growing vibrantly red. He clears his throat awkwardly and looks away.
My grin widens shyly, and I can't stop my cheeks from mimicking his. "You do?"
He purses his lips, still trying his hardest to avert his gaze.
With a slight stammer, I confess, "I like you too... as more than just a friend."
His eyes quickly shift back to me as he looks at me with surprise, and I see his lips twitching into an almost giddy grin, but then something seems to dawn on him and he muses, "But?"
Bemused by what prompted him to say this, I shake my head. "There is no but."
Reluctantly, he asks, "Do you still have feelings for Dominic?"
I bite down on my bottom lip painfully and in contemplation, my gaze wavers away. If I tell him that I don't have feelings for him, I would be lying and if I tell him that I do…
"You don't have to answer that," he quickly inserts.
I'm guessing my silence spoke volumes.
"Well, whether you choose to be with him or you choose to be with me or you choose not to be with either one of us, ultimately that is your decision. But, whatever you decide, I hope you're happy with it at the end of the day."
And at the end of his words, I'm stunned into silence by the maturity in them. Sometimes I forget that he's only a year older than me. How has he wisened up in such a short amount of time? Does going to university do that to you, force you to grow up quickly? I would imagine it does.
The longer my eyes take him in, the surer I am about my choice.
So bravely, I say, "I am."
He lifts his head to meet my gaze and with his brows furrowed in confusion, he muses, "You are what?"
"Happy," I tell him earnestly, gently resting my hand on his thigh and when he glances down at my hand, I add, "with my choice."
His eyes seek mine as if he is unsure of what I mean by that statement. But before he can even ask, I immediately move closer to him and softly press my lips against his.