Black

chapter eighteen.

Song for this chapter:
Here With Me by Susie Suh

I lay on the end of the bed, staring up at the painting above the bed frame.

What does this mean?

I haven't spoken a word to Jackie about "the moment" or our conversation.

It's 2:01am.

It's Saturday.

And I'm in my room, staring at the painting because I don't know what to do.

What does this mean?

I cover my mouth with my hand and laugh into it.

After "the moment", I couldn't help but pinch myself. I thought I was in a dream but I wasn't. I'm not.

This is real but what does it mean?

Is there a chance?

But if there is, how will it be? How will we be?

I shut my eyes and replay "the moment" in my head again.

The way he grabbed me. The way he pushed me against the wall and pressed his warm lips onto mine. The way his tongue lapped over mine and the way his breathing rose rapidly as he kissed me. I had an effect on him.

I open my eyes again and trace over my lips with my fingertips.

Maybe he just kissed me to shut me up.

I sigh as I slip under the covers, letting sleep and the feeling of Harry's lips fade into my dreams.

"I see you decided to hang the painting." Jackie comes from my room, pushing her earrings in. "How'd you get it back?"

I take a bite of my banana.

"Harry brought it back." I say simply as she stops in her tracks.

"You saw him?" She asks, a smile creeping on her face.

"Stop smiling." I say.

"Woah. What happened yesterday?" She asks.

"None of your business." I joke. I look at the clock on the wall to see its ten minutes before I have to be at the market. "I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

I hop off of the stool as I shove the last piece in my mouth. I kiss her cheek before I run out the door.

"Good morning." I greet Peter with a smile.

"Good morning?" He asks.

"Yep." I say as I put my bag in the back and pull on my apron.

"You seem to have waken up on the right side of the bed." He says.

"You can say that." I say.

"Well we have a lot to do today. We have to go to the festival in Central Park to drop off some goodies." He says.

"Okay." I say. "What should I do for now?"

He instructs me to stack boxes of fruits and vegetables and put them carefully into the back of his truck.

It takes me awhile to make sure they don't tip over, the boxes becoming soggy from the humidity. I groan as I tie my hair up and rearrange the boxes so that they lean against each other perfectly, preventing them from tipping over.

I wipe my hands on my tan shorts as I hop off the back of the truck, pushing a few strands of hair behind my ear before I walk into the market again.