“Well, go on, open it,” he pushes me again.
I lift the lid with my eyes closed, and set it to the side. Through squinted vision, I see a book. Opening my eyes, I allow the gift to come into focus. It’s a photo album. I have the urge to look at Christian, but I resist. I flip the large red leather cover and look at the first page. Staring back at me is an image of Colin, Christian, and me. I remember the day. It was the end of the summer, and Christian and I were getting ready to start back to high school. Colin took us on a white water rafting trip. It was one of the few vacations I had during my childhood.
“Oh Christian,” I gasp.
“You remember that trip? Colin and I had you convinced a bear was going to come in our camp if you didn’t pee all around your tent.”
“Jesus! I forgot about that. You guys have always been dicks, haven’t you?” I laugh; he seems rather pleased with my reaction.
I turn the page, each one holding a whole new set of memories. Our prom, concerts, parties, my first modeling job that he came and cheered me on at, graduation, all of the renovation projects I helped them on. Christian was spinning story after story, each one more passionate and detailed than the previous.
I don’t speak as I look through the pages—I simply remember—and it’s like a warm blanket being wrapped around me. Before I know what’s happening, I feel a surge of tears fill my eyes, and they come spilling out and flooding down my cheeks. What the hell is this? I don’t cry—ever. At least the old Paige didn’t.
At first it’s clear Christian doesn’t notice my silent crying. But then, it’s hard to miss when the drops fall onto the pages of the album.
“Paige?” he questions, scrambling upright and moving in close. “What’s wrong?” I can’t answer him; I don’t know what to say. “Did I do something?”
“No,” I reply through snotty sniffles. “You’re perfect.”
“Then what’s wrong?” he pushes deeper.
“I don’t know, nothing—” I start. “Everything.” Setting the photo album off to one side, I rub my legs briskly, the heatless structure starting to numb my extremities in the cool evening air.
“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing my body language. I nod, pulling my knees up to my chest.
He wastes no time, hopping to his feet, and crossing the oversized living room, he kneels down in front of the fireplace. “All right, I haven’t lit this up since we tested it, so sorry if it smells a little funky at first,” he warns me, then moments later I watch as the starter log lights up, its flames tickling the wooden hunks Christian placed on top of it.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
Moving to the speaker, he turns the music down, and flips off the light strands over our heads. The quiet and calmness of the dark, with just the orange glow of the fire, is actually quite nice. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what exactly sent me into my frenzy.
In a second, he’s back at my side, moving in close. He reaches out to put an arm around me, but then hesitates, and looks to me for my approval. I should say no, but I can’t. I want him to hold me right now, more than anything else in the world. And then he does. His large muscular arm wraps around me.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Christian prods.
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t want to talk. Pulling away slightly, I lay my head on his lap, and his fingertips graze my temple as he pulls my hair from my face and begins stroking my head. I moan, and then close my eyes.
OPENING MY EYES, I realize morning is here. I feel a body pressed up against me and quickly realize it’s Christian. We must have fallen asleep here last night. His arm is draped across my waist. My back is killing me after sleeping on the floor all night, but I don’t move. If I move, I know he’ll wake up. If he wakes up, he’ll move, too, and then this moment will be over forever.
I try to shift ever so slightly, as I realize I can no longer feel the arm I’ve fallen asleep on. Even holding my breath doesn’t help, Christian stirs as soon as I free my pinned arm. I close my eyes and wonder if he knows that I’m awake as well.
“Paige?” he says as he sits up. “Good morning.”
Now that he’s up, there’s no reason for me to pretend. I sit and try to comb my fingers through my hair. “Morning,” I mutter.
He looks around and sees that it’s daylight. “We must have fallen asleep last night.”
“Yeah, must have. Well, we better get going,” I say, rising up onto my knees. But, before I can stand, he grabs my arm and pulls me back down onto my bottom.