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Day Seven - December 9, Sunday
Everything is different now. The beginning of the week feels like miles away. I know why you left us, and I know the many excruciating details of the encounters. I begged to have the answers and now that I do, I don't know what to do with them. Grasping all of this, I still yearn for my father. I miss you still, and I want to have the old you back. It seems like an impossible feat, yet I'm still hopeful. I wish I could ask for your perspective on my life. What do you think I should do? You and mom always give different advice. What would my dad do?
I pointed at myself, "We don't always get what we want, Ollie."
"What do you want Daya," he said in a breathy tone.
I bit my lip, "I wish you were here. You're still my favorite pillow," my heart was beating out of my chest.
"I'm on my way," was the last thing I heard before the phone hung up. What had I gotten myself into? I almost tripped over my covers as I hurried to my window. Some time went by before I saw a silhouette of him coming into frame. I cannot believe he actually had the guts to show up. I opened my window and waved down at him.
"Banks," I whisper-yelled.
He walked over to the tree by my window, "Can I climb this," he inquired.
"It's possible, but I don't know if you can do it," I jeered. I watched as he like greased lightning made his way up the tree until he was face to face with me.
"Are you going to let me in," he quirked his eyebrow.
"Yeah," I backed away slowly, and he entered the window. We stood with about five paces of space between us. I was in front of him wearing only a tank top and my underwear.
"I didn't think you were actually coming," he gradually made his way over to me.
The moonlight was the only thing illuminating my room. "I thought you trusted me," he held my cheekbones and then over my lips.
"I do," I barely managed to get the words out. His hand slowly trickled down my arm while the other touched the exposed skin on my back. The night wind whispered sweet nothings into my skin.
With one pull, our bodies were brought together, and I pressed myself against him. I pushed off his varsity jacket as his lips found my neck again.
"Be careful not to scar me," I whispered. His hand traveled back up my arm and into my hair, releasing it from its bun and onto my back. He kissed my neck, then my jawline, until his lips finally made contact with mine. Our mouths pressed together in sublime harmony like two bodies naturally finding one another.
The moonlight was fighting to fit into the tiny crevices between us that our bodies did not take up. I traced his abs while he leaned back and took off his shirt. His pulls me back in my grabbing my ass, creating a slight sound from me.
Nimbly, he lifted my leg and wrapped it around his waist, the other leg soon followed. He carried me toward my bed before laying me down. He stood at the side of my bed and stared down at me.
"What do you want me to do?" I sat up and patted the spot on the bed beside me, he obliged.
I stroked the back of his neck, "Be patient with me."
Our lips caressed each other, and all my senses were taken over by him. My body was aching for him, yet I knew I could not fully act on my whims. The room disappeared and was replaced with all thoughts of him. He pulled back and held my sides underneath my shirt and laid his head on my shoulder.
Why is he holding back? I pulled his head back by his sandy brown hair and kissed him with a raw intensity. I pulled him down on top of me as I wrapped my legs around his waist once more. He pinned my arms over my head without breaking our kiss. His hands trickled back down my arms and then over every inch of my body that he could reach. I arched my back as his hands covered my breast.
"Is this okay," he recited from our time together in his truck. I nodded as my head slipped back onto the pillow and he slid my shirt up until my underboob was in his line of sight. He sucked on the skin that was newly exposed. One of his hands traced the outline of my underwear causing me to shiver.
I woke up suddenly with a gasp in the back of my throat. My bed contained only one person, that person being myself. It felt so real that I had a physical reaction to my dream left in my panties.
My back was aching as I lifted my hands into my hair to see that the bun was still there, and the room was the same as it was before I fell asleep with the window closed. I was panting as I brought myself down from the high of my dream. It felt so real and I could feel his presence lingering in my room.
"Oh," I groaned before I rolled over and realized that the pain in my back was from sleeping on top of my phone. I poked the screen, and it did not come back on. It must have gone dead overnight. Leaning over, I struggled to reach my charger.
"Good morning to me," I grumbled as I rolled onto my back. The early morning light was just starting to peek through the windows. It was too early to be up, but I could not stop thinking about him. The contents of the dream and the words he spoke to me before I drifted off into the darkness of sleep.
The last things I remember us discussing were, "Do you really think this could work?" I asked him earnestly.
"I know that I would like it too. Daya, you don't have to choose me for the sake of keeping me happy. I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but you will eventually. It will probably hurt me less," he said sometime in the middle of last night.
"It already seems like everyone hates me," I said clutching my eyes closed.
He exhaled, "No one hates you. I like you."
I smiled, "Yeah, I know that you do, but everyone else. Celia is still mad and Piper's was so upset with me earlier," I pouted.
"They'll get over it, and if I'm not mad about it than Piper should not be either. I'll talk to her about it, I promise." I tapped my finger on my phone as I held it above my face.
"The rest of them hate me too. Brian is awkward around me now, Neo probably feels the same way as Piper, and I don't think Mark ever liked me," I huffed.
He winked, "See, you have that cute pouty look on your face."
I laughed, "You would be correct."
The line went soundless. "Mark has a hard time warming up to people that he just met. We have been friends for the longest out of the whole group. He's a little reserved and quiet, but he told me he likes you."
"Are you saying that to make me feel better?" I laid my phone on my chest.
"No, and does it matter if they are a bit weird to you now. I like you a whole lot. The rest will catch on. Everyone just wants to make sure that I'm happy and you make me happy."
"When she was telling me off, she said that you didn't need this right now. Like something was going on that didn't need any extra drama."
He groaned, "I know what she meant."
"Well, tell me. You have already told me so much; this is nothing at this point," I attempted to reason with him.
He shrugged, "I already did. My mom has been distant recently because she's planning her wedding to my douchey soon to be stepdad."
"You do have a lot going on in Banks land," I folded my legs on the bed and leaned into the camera.
With his hand running through his hair, he grumbled, "Extra responsibility is being put on me with the boys. It feels like I'm raising them by myself sometimes. I have basketball season, them, and I have a job. There's so much drama going on already. She probably meant that I don't need an unhealthy relationship on top of that."
"Is that a risk worth taking?" I asked but it didn't really matter how he answered the question. He was going to do whatever he wanted, and rationality wasn't going to get in the way of that.
"Yeah," he paused. "But I don't think that we would have an unhealthy relationship though," he clarified and it brought me ease. If only for a moment.
I bit my bottom lip, "What kind of relationship do you think we would have?" Awaiting his answer made me anxious.
"You wouldn't be able to handle me after a day," he was joking I assumed.
I blazoned, "I have done a good job of handling you so far!"
"Yeah, you have. How have I been doing with you?" I could hear his steady breathing through the phone.
"Pretty good, all you had to do was not treat me as a freak after I told you about my mental problems. Most people assume that I've lost a few marbles or am a sociopath," I tried to laugh it off but memories of being picked on for it from my childhood came flooding back.
He questioned, "A sociopath, did they even know what that was?"
"I think they assumed I meant social anxiety disorder and they connected the two, but there are a lot of different kinds. I have a generalized anxiety disorder. I do not have OCD, PTSD, or social anxiety disorder. It is different for everyone who has an anxiety disorder. I have panic attacks and I stress myself out over little things. My doctor told me to do breathing exercises and write in my journal to calm myself down. It helps me deal with things instead of always running to my medication."It felt weird to be so vulnerable with someone that I haven't known for most or all of my life.
"When I was younger, kids would come over to my desk and turn my notebook upside or tilt my pencils as if I had obsessive-compulsive disorder. I am not OCD! It bothers me more that they were touching my things rather then it being out of place. It's not the same thing. If I have an anxiety disorder and someone else does too, one thing that bothers me may not bother him or her or vice versa. Do you understand what I am saying?" I wanted to make sure that I wasn't scaring him away but it felt like something I needed to tell him.
He nodded, "I hear you. I don't fully understand because I never dealt with that personally. People don't still do that, do they?"
I smiled into my laugh, "No, I stopped telling people what was wrong with me and tried to pretend that I was normal. Even if they were, you can't stop everyone who has something to say."
"I can try," he looked away from the camera and I knew it wasn't a supposed to be funny one-liner and that he meant that.
"You have a superhero complex, don't you? Super Banks to the rescue!" I punched my fist in the air.
"We talked about it a little bit, but I have something to say about what happened that yesterday night," he mumbled. "I don't want, you to regret anything and I don't want to push you into anything that you're uncomfortable with."
"Banks, I... I don't regret any of it. It was an incredibly special moment for me. I'm happy that it was you," I yawned.
"You aren't just saying that because you are delirious, are you?"
I yawned again, "If you ask me again in the morning, I'll say the same thing." That was the last thing I remember before sleep overtook me. If he were here to ask me when I woke that morning, I would've said the same still.
*Welcome to Day Seven AKA the last day! They're so perfect it kills me!
What do y'all think about that little moment in the beginning?
Is there anyone that doesn't ship Baya? I'm curious to know.
Lastly, I have the rest of the book almost ready and I want to know if you guys would like 2 updates a week. Let me know.
Please remember to follow, comment, and share like a boss!*