Kiss Me Again [discontinued]

:Kiss Me Again: Chapter Seven

Emotional chapter ahead. Publishing this for secon time thaks to a certain site.

Alex

The next morning I awoke to find the other half of the bed empty. The only proof that she was here was the difibler on the nightstand.  I stood up and threw my T-shirt on.

Maybe I scared her by sleeping with her. Maybe I should’ve went home. But what if I did and she hurt herself. I couldn’t bear to know that I was the cause of her hurting herself.

I walked towards the door, but stopped when I saw a guitar lying on the ground. Why does it feel like I’ve seen this before? Why does all of this feel so familiar?

“Oh, you’re up.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Miranda. To says she looks beautiful is an underestimate. Even in shorts where every scar is noticeable, she still looked stunning. “I hope you weren’t expecting anything to eat because, I can’t cook save my life.” She gives a very dark laugh and then sighs.

She has bags under her eyes and her voice didn’t have the ring to it like it did yesterday. But her eyes, her eyes still held that sparkle.

“Well, I instead of breakfast,” I began, turning to face her. “why don’t you play the cello?” I motioned over the be to where it laid. “And then, we can hit the town.”

“Uhm. I don’t know. My cello skills are rusty. How about I get dress and then we head into town?” I shook my head.

“Cello. Come on!” she suppressed a smile. As she walked over to grab the cello, I noticed a tattoo on the back of her arm. It was just an arrow, but the thought of it made me smile.

“Hello?” I blinked and saw her standing at the doorway with the cello and a stool in hand. “Come on turd.” I froze in my tracks. Only one other person called me that, and she betrayed me.

Blinking away memoires, I follow Miranda out into the hallway where she sits by the bedroom door and I take a seat on the floor.

“Uhm. I guess I’ll start playing now,” I cross my legs and stared at her. She looked happy. At home and I don’t get how someone who’s slowly dying of cancer can remain so happy. Most people would crack. But she was strong and I admire that.

So as she began playing the cello, her fingers moving ever so delicately against the strings I began to feel giddy inside. It was like she wasn’t even here. She was lost in a world of music and I know exactly how she feels.

Watching her made me feel something different, it made me feel like this person in front of me was no stranger. This person couldn’t be a cancer patient. This person was full of life and just imagining her dying just broke me.

When she was done, she finally opened her eyes and something inside me changed. In that moment, I saw her in a different eye. I never felt this way except for one person. That one person who I spent my teenage years with being a love sick boy.

“What are you looking at?” She asked with a smile.

“You.” I smiled, trying to hide the blush that was forming its way onto my cheeks.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because believe it or not Mary Catherine, you are simply and utterly  beautiful.” She gave me this look before laughing.