Never Been Kissed

Ch.49 ↬ J

God, I was done for.

I was so utterly done for, I mused, gazing down at a peaceful Madeline as she slept. By the comparison of the lack of purple skin marring under her eyes as opposed to when I first spotted her last night, it seemed that sleeping with me last night was the best night's sleep she'd had all week. A complete ego boost, of course, but I only wanted what was best for her. What she wouldn't regret.

Laying on my back, my right arm was stretched across the bed, nestled just against the pillow. Madeline, tucked into an adorably small ball, faced me with her hands underneath her chin and her temple resting against my arm. Her lips were parted, emitting soft snores. Her mass of ginger hair was sprawled across my skin, and with every exhale, her trembling hair tickled my skin. It was all I could do not to twitch at the feathery sensation.

I'd been awake for roughly fifteen minutes already and aside from turning my head to face her, I dared not move a single other muscle. She could sleep for another few hours, I didn't care. I wouldn't move.

Five minutes later I realised with a sigh that I kind of had to pee even though I still had morning wood.

I shifted slightly, isolating my arm so I wouldn't disturb Madeline.

When I realised she was still sleeping soundly, I sighed in relief, slipping my other hand under my head, closing my eyes again and thanking all things holy that I was in that moment with Madeline. That she was undoubtedly mine again.

Last night, some part of me knew her words were originating from an ire-fuelled place, so I walked out. Honestly, I had no idea where I would have gone. Maybe I'd have jumped right back into my car and gunned it out of Overton, making good on Madeline's words that she was better off without us, but I couldn't do it. My legs refused to cooperate with my brain—to walk away from her. Instead I could only muster spinning around.

So I waited. I reached out and gripped the doorframe with both hands, my knuckles paling under my watchful gaze. And I continued to wait. Longer and longer.

Luckily for me the hallway was deathly silent so I heard immediately when Madeline was shuffling to the door, unlocking it and bursting through until she realised I was obstructing her path. And that's when it was confirmed: she wasn't leaving. She was coming back with me. If she hadn't have chased me then maybe I would have given up, surrendered, and relinquished her. But she didn't. She went after me.

So then I kissed her.

And I was making damn sure that was not my final kiss with her.

***

A little while later I was fluttering open my eyes.

I must have fallen asleep again, too caught up in the fantasy that was Madeline Taylor. Still in the same position, I inclined my head to the side again and this time, Madeline was openly gazing right at me, a faint smile quirking at her lips. Her hair tickled the skin on my arm again, but it wasn't unpleasant. And the urge to piss had mercifully abated.

"Hey," she whispered, still delectably naked underneath the duvet.

"Hi."

She exhaled softly, her eyes closing temporarily. "That was the best night sleep I've had all week," she said, confirming my earlier suspicions.

As much as I wanted to put the week behind us and move on, I knew my mind would fail to settle and it would be futile to even try. Not to mention that Madeline would never truly be able to eradicate the thoughts from her mind, the ones that convinced her that we were all better off without her. Like anything attributed to the past and to a harrowing memory you wished you could simply forget, it had to be grieved and buried and mourned. And then you can move on.