Loving You Differently

Twenty Four

Aria Adkins

There's a noticeable shift between Austin and I after the meeting with Reed. It's small, but it's there, and I guess it's kind of understandable after the way he verbally spilled his guts to me. It's no surprise that the vulnerability we've shared with each other, and only each other, brought us closer.

Deep down, I know that I've never actually doubted Austin's intentions, I was just nervous about them. I doubted that someone like Austin could ever want me. My brain and insecurities tried to tell me that he only offered me a position at Vice because he felt sorry for me, but deep down I think I knew that there was more to it. The kindness that he's shown me from our very first meeting, the unwavering trust in his gaze, the need to know more and get closer...

Austin was empathetic, and as much as I tried to act like I wasn't, I knew that I was too. I cared so deeply for others, even when they didn't deserve it, even if they didn't reciprocate the same energy, and I'd been raised thinking that it was pointless to care, so I kept it disguised as a collage of bitter emotions that blossomed into the self-loathing and doubt that I'd become so accustomed to.

Austin and I were more alike than I realized, and because it was him, the man who'd not once let me doubt his true feelings for me, I wasn't scared anymore to actively show emotion and let him know that I care, and it's safe to say that he feels the same.

It felt freeing to know that we were both on the same page. We didn't have to have the whole "So are we boyfriend and girlfriend?" conversation, because we both knew that there was no one else. We both felt things for each other that others might whisper "It's too soon," at, but the way in which they happened left no doubt in my mind that they were real.

And it felt liberating to finally let go of that doubt and guilt. I deserved to be happy, and Austin made me happy. And now I knew that it wasn't just a one way street; we found solace and comfort in each other that we'd unknowingly been searching for. We were in each other's corners, because we knew what it felt like to have no one else there.

That's why I wake up to Austin wrapped around my body like a koala the next morning; his head resting on my lower stomach (which is clothed in his t-shirt) and his tattooed arms firmly hugging my thighs.

I thought it was calm and content before without the sound of broken whiskey bottles meeting cheap linoleum at the ass crack of dawn, but nothing else could quite compare to the gentle sound of my ceiling fan whirring steadily, barely covering the sounds of Austin's light snores.

Waking up next to him felt like home.

Careful not to wake him up, I slowly ease out of his grip and make my way out of bed. Once my feet touch the soft, shaggy carpet, Austin immediately rolls onto his stomach, hugging my pillow to his side.

For a moment, I silently admire the art that adorns his arms and the the toned muscles of his bare back, still reeling over the fact that someone so beautiful is in my bed. And that he's mine.

I quietly tip-toe out of my bedroom and go about my morning routine, brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower. Not long after, I make my way to the kitchen, giddily admiring how nice and clean the living room now looks as I walk past it.

Last night after we made beignets, (which somehow turned out edible? Go us.) Austin, Sav, and I deep-cleaned the living room, making sure to Lysol and Febreeze the hell out of the couch and happily toss the giant, ugly ash tray that mom kept on the coffee table. We even hung up a few framed pictures that I'd snagged for cheap from the Goodwill. The walls no longer looked empty and instead were minimally decorated with framed photos of purple Irises, the Tennessee state flower. It brought a small pop of color that surprisingly brightened up the room and made it a hell of a lot less depressing; something that I'd never felt in the entire twenty-one years that I'd spent in this very house.