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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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Yesterday was eventful, once me and Elijah got home we went our separate ways and I haven't properly spoken to him since. After finding out about his mother dying I felt an abiding pain for him.
His reaction, her being mentioned, made me realise that I'm not the only person who deals with grief in this way. I'm not the only one who shuts down and blocks people out. I'm not alone.
That thought comforted me. It made me see him in a different light. Is that why he wants to get to know me? Because we are similar in that aspect, and a lot of other aspects, when I think about it.
My conversation with Anastasia keeps replaying in my head. 'You can't block people out forever, you'll end up hurting yourself more.' The guard I have up is telling me to ignore her, but my gut is telling me that maybe she's right. Maybe I should try and get to know him.
These thoughts have been spiraling in my head all day and I can't rid them from my mind. No way in hell am I opening up to him completely but perhaps I'll try and make conversation with him here and there and not end the discussion when I start to feel vulnerable. I might as well give it a go, I have no one else I can't talk to until the others arrive.
~~~~~
A mesmerising Italian sunset was laid out in front of me. Colours painted the sky in stripes of pinks and oranges while the sun hung low and warm. I sat on the porch swing, book in hand, enticed by it's beauty.
I've always loved reading, it transports you into a different world and from the second you open the book, until the second you close it, you forget about everything. Nothing matters except the characters. All you see is the description, conversation and scenes playing out in your mind. It's Like a movie, that you're directing.
My stomach rumbling broke me out of the world my book had placed me in. Making me realise that I haven't actually eaten all day. When I start reading I can't stop. I need someone, or something, to bring me back reality and the house has been deserted since the early hours of the morning and no one is back yet. So I've been trapped in the pages of my book all day.
I need eat. So I made my way into the kitchen to find something to cook.
The refrigerator is piled high with everything a chef could ever dream. Every fruit. Every vegetable. Every cut of meat.
It made me smile. It reminded me of home, my mother always insists that the fridge is pilled high with everything anyone could ever need.
I grabbed everything required to make my dearest comfort food: paella. Well it's more comforting when my grandmother makes it, but she's not here so my own handy work will have to do.
My Abuela taught me the recipe when I was eight. She said that because my father moved around around a lot, I had to take a piece of Spain with me wherever I went. It's become a goal of mine to make a paella in every country I visit. She said that remembering where you come from, is one of the most important things.
