Midnight Lips | Ghost

𝐂𝐇. 28

I didn't know I was looking away from Simon until he gently pushed my chin toward him, making me meet his eyes, and it felt like they embraced me in a warm hug. "How was she?"

What?

"How was she?" he repeated, as though I said it aloud. Perhaps I did, because wasn't he supposed to dive into the meaning behind Isabella's decision? And then he said, "Tell me about her." 

My heart skipped a beat, then sent a foreign warmth through my chest, spreading across my body, only to get smashed down the more I thought about the answer. "She..." How was my little sister? Why couldn't I get the answer out? It hit me like a train, the fact that I'd spent these past three years suppressing the memories of my sister with the thoughts of her decision.

Oh, how I missed her...

The tears threatened to make an appearance, but I gulped them down. "Isabella was special. She... she was so sweet and caring, yet crazy in her own special way." A small chuckle came out of me at one of many memories. "She loved roller skaters, and I hated them. Hated them. But I still told my mom I wanted a pair, just for her.

"I remember one time, when we were both little, about seven years old or so, I asked her to teach me. She got so happy when I told her I wanted to learn and I was so happy with her reaction, I shoved all of my fear down. We spent the whole day practicing, me clutching at her wrist, never letting her hand go.

"It was evening, and mom told us it was time for dinner, but I was having so much fun with Isabella that I insisted to do one more lap around the house. This time I didn't want to hold Isabella's hand. It was the best-wrong decision ever. We hadn't even started yet and I was already kissing the ground."

Simon chuckled, and the smile on my face grew. "Do not laugh! It hurt!" I hit his chest playfully. "That fall left me a scar. Right here." I showed him. The scar was right under my chin and looked like a football ball. His finger brushed that spot as he leaned closer. "You see?"

"Must've hurt." He cupped my cheek and kissed my lips, before pulling me against his chest. My body inched closer to him, cuddling in his arms. He wrapped one of them around my shoulder to put me even closer, and my heart did that foreign thing again.

I played with the collar of his shirt, and continued, "Isabella laid down beside and hugged me. She said, "It's okay, Vale, I'm right here." She repeated those words over and over again until I eventually stopped crying and it didn't hurt anymore. That was the sweet and caring Isabella in her, because as soon she helped me up, she grinned at me and yelled, "Last one is a rotten egg!" as if I didn't almost break my jaw."

Simon's chest rumbled softly with his quiet laugh, and now it was time for my stomach to react. It wasn't a close to butterflies feeling, but a field full of butterflies one, sending goosebumps up my neck. I wanted more of his quiet laughs, of these moments where I could see his eyes smiling and I could feel his heart beating.

I pulled back and I gripped his shoulders to adjust myself on his lap, putting my legs on each side of him. "Mom almost had a heart attack. I skated the rest of the evening with blood running down my neck, which sounds painful for a seven-year-old girl. But who cares? Who cares if I had to get four stitches? I had the best time of my life and I was accompanied by my sister."

"Sounds like a dream."

"It was better than a dream. I used to brag about it to my classmates in Chile." I was so proud of my football-ball-looking scar.

Simon tilted his head. "Oh? And were they amazed?"

I smirked. "I ended up being crowned as the Queen of my class."

"What?" He blinked confused. "Is that a thing?"

"It was!" Now this was a safe topic. "Every year, there was this voting where each one of the students had to vote for the Queen and King that they wanted to represent their class. And then you had to dress like one and act like one. And they rent you a carriage, show you off around the neighborhood, make you have a dance with your partner and it's so much fun and oh my God, I really miss that day."

"Wow... that sounds—"

"Fun, doesn't it?"

"Interesting. I didn't know they do that in Chile."

"We have a lot of interesting things. Like our National Holiday dances. Gymnastics dances. A thing called alianzas, which the literal translation may be... alliances. We've got fondas, ferias, cuecas, completos, empanadas de queso, empanadas de pino, terremotos, sopaipillas—"

"I love it when you talk in Spanish."

Oh. His words embraced my body with warmth, leaving me speechless. "T-thank you. I... I can teach you if you'd like."

"I would really appreciate that." Simon buried his covered head in the crook of my neck, doing that thing where he inhales and tickles me. He exhaled, and murmured against my neck, "I'm so tired of not understanding the conversations you have with Vargas and Parra."

I giggled, then gasped as his fingers started tracing circles up my back, turning my body on. "Well, your pronunciation of the Rs is really good. Better than Price."

"I've gotta start at something, right?"

"One month with me, Simon Riley, and you'll be fluent in Spanish."

He pulled back to look into my eyes and oh no. I prayed I hadn't said something wrong and scared him off. Simon eyes darkened, the pupils dilating. "Twenty-eight more days to go."

Yes. I almost sighed in relief. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my forehead against his. "Get the best of it, Simon, and take me to bed."

And that was exactly what he did.

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