i l l u s o r y : 20

84 4 0
                                    

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED COPYRIGHTED 2015

I L L U S O R Y : 20

I have to admit that for the first few days without Patty in the picture, it's weird. I'm so used to being welcomed with her popping out of no where, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight which in return makes her hair a beacon of gold in the corner of my eye. Yet somehow as much as I know that I will have to get used to not having Patty or Jared around anymore, I can't help but know that a large weight that was plastered on my shoulder blades has been lifted off of them and I can finally breathe in the fresh air around me.

Even in the chilly late February breeze, walking down the sidewalk in town with Bridger next to me and Darby and Jamal holding hands behind us hasn't felt as amazing as it is right now. I've pulled my bangs and clipped them back. I'm wearing a turquoise sweater dress with brown boots and flower printed leggings on underneath the dress. Wilma's cross necklace still sits nestled against my chest, a place that I know it belongs now.

Entering a coffee shop, I'm welcomed with the scent of coffee and pastries throughout the room. In the crimson hued walled room, with the rich dark furniture off to the left along with the local artists' paintings hanging throughout the shop I can't help but smile a little and head over to one of the leather sofas that are near the light stone fireplace. 

Sitting down I lean back against the sofa and close my eyes for a second, hearing the sound of Jamal, Darby, and Bridger ordering their coffees I soak in the warmth in the room and the home feeling that makes it relaxing to be over in the sitting, lounge area.

I barely even know that I've drifted off into my thoughts before I feel the sofa dip next to me. My eyes open and I turn my head, finding that Bridger is sitting next to me with his cinnamon coffee in his tan hands, his silver eyes gazing at the lit fireplace in front of us.

Jamal is sitting in the leather recliner to my left, with Darby in his lap, the both of them drinking their coffees as they stare at the fireplace in front of them with content in their eyes. Darby flickers her eyes away from the fireplace and gives me a sweet smile, which I return before I sit upright from my lounging position.

Soon we all drift off into our own conversations, and while Darby and Jamal are talking about stuff that's going on at their houses I'm greeted with Bridger's hand wrapping itself around my right hand. Staring at my pale and thin hand clasped within his tan and larger hand I can't help but stare at the contrast of our hands together yet how perfect they feel within each other's hold.

"Jane," Bridger's warm voice, which is tinted with a touch of huskiness, perks my ears as I flash my blue eyes away from our hands to him, finding that he's sitting his coffee onto the wooden coffee table in front of us before he turns his attention fully on me.

In his brown leather jacket (which originally belonged to his dad when he was a teenager himself), along with his denim button up shirt underneath it along with his dark washed jeans and brown hiking boots he looks as though he just stepped off the pages of a clothing magazine. It also doesn't help that he's wearing a black beanie on his head, with his brown hair messed up, a few of his longer bangs falling against his forehead.

"Yeah, what's up?" I ask him as I lean slightly back into the tribal printed pillow behind my back, my eyes softening when he takes my other hand from by my side and puts both of our hands together. A comforting silence settles in around us for a moment before I know that he knows it's time to break the silence between us.

"You know how we haven't had time to really go on dates just by ourselves? We always have to have double dates with Jamal and Darby...which I'm not saying is a bad thing...but how we just don't have time to just have a date with just us?" Bridger questions me as he informs me of how every date that we've had together has always had Jamal and Darby snipping at the heels of our feet, wanting nothing more than to be in a social group with each other.

Illusory | ✓Where stories live. Discover now