One year later . .
The weather was fine for today. The heat was not unbearable nor the cold breeze made my knees shiver.
A year had passed and it symbolized a new beginning for myself, a career I'd never thought I'd established upon the dreary moments of my life.
Writing was a miracle for me. A savior that helped me recover and met a new brew of light, a crowd of people somewhere cheering for me.
A person that'd absolutely care.
"Hello! I'm a big fan of you", the girl in her early teens came up to me with a fainting expression plastered on her face. She must've been astonished to have passed by me.
"I really liked your novel Knot, it wasn't some ordinary story--some parts felt so heart wrenching and realistic", she continued. "--did you based your story on your life, if I'm not being rude?".
I smiled faintly. "I did, infact it is dedicated to a person I've been waiting for".
The girl smiled widely, her braces clearly visible in my sight. "Then he's some lucky person, I hope you keep writing stories Ms. Butterfly".
"Can I take a picture of you?".
"Janna I swear I don't like this, whatever you're planning", I bluntly told her in fear, my heart raising when Janna suddenly blindfolded me.
I couldn't guess where she was taking me nor was I expecting anything of this to happen.
"Just shut up!", she screeched, her hand holding me tightly as we continued to walk along the rocky path.
I tried to think about different scenarios that Janna was playing for me but none of them seemed right. I couldn't do anything but let her guide me along her suprise.
It was only the two of us.
I promised Janna I'd never leave her since our group had split apart. It was depressing that they'd leave us and lunch time wasn't the same, sometimes I'd be mum when I hear Janna silently crying beside me when we'd take over in sleepovers.
I had to stay strong for us since she needs me and she couldn't handle Vincent breaking her heart.
"We're here", she murmured softly, her hand guiding me and telling me to sit down.
But she hasn't took off the blindfold. Then I wonder what she had in planned.
A hand held me, it wasn't Janna.
My heart pounded so fast that I was hyperventilating. It couldn't be him. Yet this type of touch was the one who could only give me shivers, who could make my ears defeaned and my lips part when it touched mine.
It was warm, rough like a man's hand and it felt so right with my hand.
"M-marco?", I whispered his name scared if this would all disappear.