Infinite Us(50)

But before I could make a move, Willow's phone rang, and she looked down at it, turning away from me, disappearing out down the street before I made it to the front entrance, and something knotted deep inside my chest, something I didn't think I could loosen on my own. Something I knew I'd put there by being a coward.





Willow



There were baking dishes littered around my small kitchen and the entire apartment smelled like cupcakes and the sweet, decadent flavor of frosting and dark ale. I'd attempted Irish Car Bombs again and had spilled have a bottle of Guinness on my floor, the sticky mess collecting to pool into the grout line on my tile floor.

The oven had sounded ten minutes ago, five minutes after I should have opened the door and the latest batch was a burnt mess.

"Stupid Guinness," I called to the oven and the dark brown cupcakes that had cost me ten bucks to make. That definitely wouldn't make the cut. I pulled on the room temperature beer, letting the half-empty bottle empty down my throat. "Stupid me."

My sofa was large and comfy; a hand-me-down piece Effie had given me when her second job as a spa owner had finally turned a profit. It seemed everyone wanted to meditation and get a facial on the same day. My friend capitalized on it. But me and the cupcakes? No. Today wasn't a good day for my little business and I thought about my great-grandmother just then, wondering how many burned batches of cookies and brownies she had to go through to get her recipes perfected. I wondered if she liked the weight of her life keeping her from concentrating on getting the job done.



       
         
       
        

At my right, on the hall table that led out of the front room, sat a picture of my great-grandparents on their wedding day. Their smiles were bright and lit up their entire faces and I glanced between that picture and my own reflection in the mirror above the mantel. My face was shaped precisely like my great-grandfather's, but my eyes, they belonged to her. I tried to smile, thinking of the cookies I'd delivered to the homeless shelter a few blocks down from our building. The director had been kind, had thanked me over and over and I watched myself in the mirror, gaze shifting back to my grandparents' picture and back to the mirror as I thought of that day at the shelter. But my eyes didn't gleam quite as bright and my smile, no matter how closely it resembled my grandfather's, didn't seem as wide.

I kept watching, zoning out, forgetting the shelter, forgetting that picture and Nash's face slipped to my conscience and stayed at the front of my mind. His mouth, his smile, that sweet, beautiful smile, the sound of his laughter and the rich, full sound of his voice. Before I knew I'd done it, my face ached a little with the smile that wouldn't leave my features and I shot my gaze back and forth from the picture and the mirror and slouched against the billowing pillows arranged around the sofa.

Nash. He was the only thing that made my eyes sparkle like my great-grandmother's. He was the only thought that made me look exactly like my grandfather.

I turned on my side, stuffing the pillow against my chest as I recalled the precise arc of his face, the exact bend of his mouth and the soft brush of his tongue. It was only then that I let the day go from me. I put away thoughts of burnt cupcakes and smiles that didn't match my great-grandparents'. It was only with Nash's face frozen in my thoughts, that I thought my dreams would stay in the present.

I was wrong.



Washington D.C.



We existed in our own world. Away from my classes, from my family, from his friends, Isaac and I became an island, distant, exotic and wholly decadent. There were moments when just the stretch of his smile would send a thrill to my stomach, to other places tantalized by that look and I was left breathless and weak. Other times I nestled against his chest with those wide arms around me and his mouth at the shell of my ear whispering promises that we pretended were real and honest and true. They felt that way, in those stolen moments.

I met him every night after his shift ended with Lenny keeping watch and the library free from anyone who'd care what we were up to. The curve of his top lip and the tiny space between his front teeth were small imperfections I found delicious, irresistible and Isaac knew it. He knew me, in just those few short weeks, he had discovered how to hold my neck so that our mouths met at the perfect angle. He knew that a kiss on the base of my throat would have me frantic and eager and desperate for his mouth. Isaac knew that I didn't like being called "baby" the way Trent always had. He knew my brother was my best friend and that in my eyes, no one's father was better than mine.