Heartbeats

Chapter 7

Him...

We sleep in on Saturdays, all three of us, moseying out of bed sometime around mid-morning. The little one watches cartoons on television while she and I throw together some sort of edible brunch. It's these moments, when she's scrambling around the kitchen in an oversized t-shirt, cursing under her breath while she licks pancake batter off of her fingers, that I find her most irresistible.

Today, however, I'm the first one up. The apartment is quiet and I decide to get a head start on breakfast, flipping on the coffee maker and opening up the refrigerator to take stock of our options.

It's been a minute since either of us went to the grocery store, so I make the executive decision that we will make do with eggs and toast.

Cracking a few eggs into a skillet, I give them a swirl with the spatula and allow my thoughts to run wild. A month ago, I never would've hoped to be here living this life. It feels like a second chance, and yet, moments with her are so fragile. I don't want to risk saying or doing the wrong thing at risk of shattering what we've haphazardly built.

Like the fact that I'm standing in the kitchen shirtless with an unruly bed head right now making her breakfast. I didn't do it on purpose, but now I'm overthinking it. I run a hand through my hair self-consciously and turn back toward my room to throw on a shirt before she wakes up. You can never be too safe.

Lost in thought, I collide with something full force, cursing under my breath. It's only when I hear a soft giggle that I realize its her, jumping back toward the counter in an attempt to put some space between us. "I'm so sorry," I blurt out, already unbearably uncomfortable.

When I realize she's still laughing, I relax a little bit, allowing a smirk to take over my face. "What's so funny?"

"I was trying to sneak up on you," she manages to reply before being enveloped in another fit of giggles. She walks closer to me and I tense up as our eyes lock. "You should have seen the look on your face."

She reaches up and cups my cheeks and its the last thing I'm prepared for, my pulse suddenly ricocheting against my skin. "I forgot how fun it was to scare you. You are absolutely adorable when you're terrified."

"Good to know." I swallow intently, never dropping her gaze. I am frozen in place, mesmerized by the raspiness of her morning voice and the feel of her fingertips against my skin. I think for a moment that I would be content to die right now.

But then she's stepping into my arms, drawing her face closer to mine, and I subconsciously decide I still have a little more life left in me.

When our lips touch, it isn't anything like I've imagined it a hundred times over. It's tentative, sweet, almost a little shy. I can feel the heat rising on my cheeks and I don't understand why. We've done this hundreds... thousands of times.

Only when her eyes fall closed do I allow myself to relax against her, sliding my tongue against the seam of her lips as I bury my fingers in her hair.

Her...

When I kiss him, I don't feel like I'm trying or pretending or anything except being. Before I'm even fully aware of what's happening, I'm sighing into it, pressing myself impossibly closer to him. It's the kind of kiss I would imagine a couple sharing after a near death experience, and after all this time of dancing around one another, it feels like pure relief.

And then I remember myself. I remember that he's not mine to scare or caress or kiss, not anymore, and I pull back immediately, hand flying to my lips like they've been burned.

"I'm so sorry," I breathe out in a panic. I fail to acknowledge the irony in repeating his very same words, turning away from him in shame. "I don't know what came over me."

"Hey," he reaches out for me, pulling me back against his chest in one fell swoop. "What's wrong?"

The way he smooths the hair out of my eyes and draws my chin up to meet his gaze tells me this is different than all the times before. There's nothing forbidden or rushed about the way he holds me.

This time it's him who pulls my lips up to meet his, and there is nothing shy about his response, as he opens his mouth immediately to draw my tongue against his with a toe-curling moan. He backs me into the nearest counter and lifts me up effortlessly, breaking this kiss to trail his lips down my neck as my legs curl automatically around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer to me. His hips begin to rock against mine as his lips find mine again, and while coherent thoughts are fleeting, I manage to register that I smell something burning.

"What's that smell?" I pull back momentarily, wrinkling my nose as my breath evens out.

It takes his heavy-lidded eyes a moment to register what I'm saying and then he's flying over to the stovetop, fanning a smoking skillet and dumping a cup of water on top of its contents as he curses under his breath. From my vantage point on the counter, I can't help but shake my head as the giggle fit I had managed to squelch comes back with a vengeance.

"I guess we're ordering out for breakfast..." He wonders aloud as he dumps the charred eggs in the trashcan.

I couldn't care less about breakfast.