August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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I carefully sneak out of Colin's bed, trying my best not to wake him because, throughout the past three weeks of sleeping next to him, I've discovered he's a light sleeper. Even a cough could wake him up.
I tiptoe through his room to my bag, my ears on high alert. When they pick up the lightest of grumbles coming from his bed, my body freezes in place. I wait a few seconds, not daring to move one single muscle before I look over my shoulder to check if he's still asleep.
He's a sea star laying on his stomach, his back steadily rising and falling. Every single cell in my body yearns to crawl into his warmth and kiss him awake but then I would ruin the element of surprise and where's the fun in that?
One step at a time, I sneak further into his room. Once I find my handbag, I drop down and slowly zip open the big compartment. I wince at the sound.
Why does every single sound become a thousand times louder when you're trying to be quiet?
I glance over at Colin before grabbing his present wrapped in Lucie's flower wrapping paper, a box full of his favorite cupcakes from which he already ate six last night during our The Mentalist marathon since the box was too large to hide from him, and a candle. I zip open the small compartment and fumble through it, trying to locate the little lucifer box.
I close my eyes, focusing on what my fingers feel since it's too dark in Colin's room to see anything.
Tampons, mints, hair ties, a piece of chocolate you get when you order coffee - my future self will be very happy about this when she finds it-, a couple of receipts, a cookie wrapper, yet no lucifer box.
My hand dives into the big compartment and ruffles around.
Nothing.
I didn't forget, did I? Shit.
I peer at my bag, trying to distinguish rubbish from the lucifer box I'm searching for. After a few minutes of rumbling through my bag, I give up and tiptoe to Colin's bedside table where my phone is charging. My screen lights up the moment I unplug it and my stomach drops when I read the text message displayed on my phone.
Mom - I'll be around Portland next week Saturday, are you free to grab some coffee? Or dinner. Whatever you like.
Why now? She's been too caught up in work for over three years. For three years she hasn't made any effort to rebuild our relationship after her divorce from my dad.
Why now?
What's different?
My stomach turmoils from the battle of emotions raging through me, the hope she wants to salvage what is broken, and the fear that she'll only break it more.
Colin's words about having a conversation with her about what bothers me jump through my mind and make me delete the message that read my Saturday was already fully booked with schoolwork.
