10 Things: A Cody Simpson Fan Fiction

Thirteen

          “Speaking of which,” time to sidetrack him, “where are we going tomorrow? Like, which country?”

          “California, Los Angeles. Then to New York City. And then Paris, France. Then back to Australia.”

          Paris.

          Los Angeles.

          New York City.

          My bucket list―that’s the three places I’ve always wanted to go before passing on. I don’t know how to feel about this? Wow? Staring at Cody with probably my eyes wide open, my jaw slowly dropped itself. I almost couldn’t feel my heartbeat, but I’m more than certain it had skipped a beat.

          “What?” Cody stared back at me, amusement written obviously in his eyes. He didn’t chuckle, thankfully, for a reason that I currently can’t make out because of shock, and then something hit me as quick as a bolt of lightning flashing.

          Cody doesn’t know about my bucket list.

          “Nothing,” I covered up my expression with a neutral one now, trying to compose myself at the same time. “I just―I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. And LA. And NYC.”

          “Great, because I have things planned for the both of us when we’re there―in Paris, anyway.”

          Speaking off which, I had managed to sidetrack him yet again. Cheers to me. I flashed him a smile. “I love you.” Which was true, despite it being a random statement.

          He flashed me a toothy grin. I just like it so much, gosh; his cuteness stands out more when he flashes his pearly whites. Really. He opened his muscular arms and held them out before me, and ushering me forward. I didn’t hesitate wrapping my arms around his torso, laying my head on his chest.

          I liked times like that―no distruptions, no nothing just the both of us.

          “But seriously,” he rested his head lightly above mine, “I still want you to get a doctor. I want you healthy, because seeing you in this state aches my heart. And I don’t mean to sound cheesy, I’m being serious.”

          Wow, to think that I had actually managed to make him forget about this. Oh, shit. “Cody, do you trust me?”

          “Well, of course I do,” he said, “I just―”

          “I don’t care what you say, Cody, if you trust me, then you’re gonna have to believe when I say I’m fine and that this is nothing serious. This lasted for like three weeks when I was about five, you know?” Lies. “I know what’s up with me, all right? Stop worrying.”

          Or else you might end up growing more worried. My heart squeezing so tightly that it was beginning to hurt. This was wrong, and I know it, but I’m still doing it. Sometimes I ask myself why and then I think of the obvious answer and then I reconsider the question and I guarantee myself that I’m going to hate me when they find out about this in the future.

          They’re going to be so sympathetic. I hate sympathy, truth be told. That’s also one of the reasons why I refuse to let anyone know, to be honest.

          “Okay, fine. Promise it’s normal?”

          I pushed him back on the sofa and pulled myself back, flashing him a playful glare when his eyes met mine. “You just never fully trust me, do you?” He let out a chuckle before pulling me back, closer than before, and pressing his lips onto mine for a few seconds.