Waiting For Us [COMPLETED]

chapter 17 - the cure to everything is candy

Talia:

A little after two o'clock, we begin to make our way back to the front entrance to leave. Don't be sad because it's over, but be happy because it happened, right? Wrong.

This is the first time, in what seems to have been a very long time, that stress and worries haven't consumed my every thought. And now that I've had a taste for this feeling, I don't want to let it go.

Grayson doesn't seem to want to let go either, as he still insists we hold hands so we don't lose each other. I won't point out the fact that the museum has significantly decreased in foot traffic.

Passing through the exit doors, we step down onto the steps. We're nine steps down when I abruptly halt, Grayson's hand slipping out of mine as he stops two stairs in front of me. My other hand flys across my mouth in realization. "Crap, we forgot to take pictures for the project."

"It's okay," Grayson reassures, his eyes looking up at me.

I sigh deeply and shake my head. "No, it's not. We need something to remember this by."

Grayson gives me a lopsided grin and tilts his head, his voice calming. "I don't think I could forget today."

Butterflies.

"Maybe," I say. I know he's right; I could never forget this day either, even if I tried. But I want something I can visually see, to tell myself that this trip was real. "I still want a picture. Me and you." That seemed too upfront, especially with me waving my phone in front of him. "Please," I add. Better.

He takes the phone from my hand, our fingers momentarily brushing again. He slides his thumb across the screen to open up the camera while I fix my hair quickly. Might as well make myself look presentable. We lean in closer to each other and smile at the camera that Grayson extends in the air—my grin more bright, of course. His smile is more of a slight raising of his lip's corners. Say what you want about selfies, but they're convenient when you don't have a third to take the picture.

"Do you two want me to take your photo for you?"

Never mind. We turn to our left and discover an energetic, middle-aged woman who offers to capture this moment and a much more sufficient way.

"Yes, please," I exclaim, a little more excitedly than intended as Grayson hands off my phone to the kind stranger.

The two of us attempt to position ourselves next to each other, but everything turns out awkward. I don't know how Grayson would feel if I wrapped by arm around his waist. Is that too close for us? Or is it just enough? After a moment of shifting, I fold my hands in front of me while Grayson stiffly holds his to his side. No contact involved. Just my weight on one foot and arms awkwardly placed.