A/N: This is just a sneak peek of Alex's thoughts, something I've been dying to write for so long and this just so happens to be the best place for it. I hope you enjoy looking into Alex's brain as much as I did!
Happy reading!
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-Alex's POV-
84
She won't leave me the fuck alone.
A picture of her is the only thing in my mind, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders.
Every time I close my eyes, she's there, with her beautiful wide hazel eyes looking at me with joy. But then the image changes, and her eyes are no longer filled with anything but emptiness. Her skin is pale and even though I can't touch her, I know it's cold.
I jolt upright, covered in sweat with a heart rate the same as when I sprint the last 400 metres home at the end of my morning jogs.
"Fuck," I groan, putting my head on my knees and breathing as deeply as I can. It's hard when the image of Dakota's dead body won't leave my mind.
She's dying.
She has cancer.
And I haven't fucking talked to her in over a month.
What am I doing?
She said May, didn't she? God, I can't remember. May. That's less than four months away.
In four months, Dakota Everett will not exist, other than in people's memories and on her gravestone.
I can't breathe.
"Fuck," I curse again, rocking back and forward. "Fuck."
I have to talk to her. She broke my heart but I acted like a fucking idiot about it, and now I need to fix things.
I have to talk to her.
I have to see her before she dies.
I can't keep ignoring her.
Seriously, what is my problem? I ran into her at the grocery store once and then flew to Tasmania to get away from her, when the only thing I want to do is be by her side and never leave.
I'm such an idiot.
I don't know what time it is but I know that it's still dark. I jump off the top bunk in the children's room and pace through the silent house to the kitchen.
I need to get the image of her out of my mind.
"Alexander." I jump when his deep voice addresses me, nearly dropping the juice I have just gotten from the fridge.
Opa is sitting at the head of the table in his robe, the daily newspaper in front of him. In a practiced manner he folds the newspaper once, twice, and then sets it carefully aside.
I pour my juice and go to sit beside him.
"Alexander," he says again, his voice gruff and his accent thick. "What you doing?" His wh sounds like a v.
"I can't sleep," I tell him, sipping on my orange juice. Through the window I can see the horizon and that it is beginning to light up. It's almost sunrise.
"No kidding. Why?"
"I can't get Dakota out of my head."
"Du liebe sie?" He asks. I nod. "You no talk to her."
"Not anymore. She told me something and I handled it very badly. I don't know how to fix what I did." I rake a hand through my hair.
"Frauen. Love when you say apology. Do you apology?" Loosely translated that means women love when you apologize. Should you apologize?
"I don't know, Opa." On the one hand I feel like I shouldn't have to apologize. She hid a secret from me that broke my heart, but now I'm ignoring her which is probably hurting her too.
Oh God. Am I hurting her?
The thought makes my stomach twist with discomfort when I realize that I must be. She said she loved me too, so this must be hurting her.
Fuck.
I have to apologize.
"Du bin eine kartoffel," Opa says. I raise my eyebrows at him.
"You're calling me a spud? Can't you see that I'm in pain here," I groan, but at least I'm smiling now.
"It make you smile. Das ist gut. But always say apology to frauen. You and Dakota are work together, very good. Du liebe sie. You fix it. Ja?"
My heart pounds against my chest at the thought of talking to Dakota again, of seeing her again.
I should call her to organize to see her when I get home. So that I can apologize. Hopefully she won't be too mad at me.
Yes, I will do that.
"Okay. I'll fix it," I tell Opa. He puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles.
"Das ist sehr gut. Now, you go sleep. You look similar to corpse. Schlaf schön."
"Danke schön," I thank him, and then put my cup in the sink and head back to my room. I'm not going to sleep though, I'm going to figure out what I am going to say.
I hope she forgives me.
YOU ARE READING
365 Days
Romance"I am going to die." Yes, you heard right. Dakota Everett is going to die. She is given a year and wants to do as much as she can. The trouble is, she's 17, so a lot of the things she wants to do, she can't yet. So she makes a list of all the thing...
