BLACK ROSE

Comfort muffins

Alex. 

Ashley's clutching my hand tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her breath is uneven and shaky, eyes focused on an abstract object ahead of her.

I can't imagine how she's feeling or what's going through her mind.

Her stops are slow and becoming wobbly. It's not pleasant to see her like this. I stop walking and pull her close to me. Embracing her in a tight hug as her hands automatically wrap around my torso and her face buries in my chest. I stroke her soft hair while she cries.

I've received too many phone calls with bad news and every time I pick up the phone I worry. But Ashley's phone call did something to me. Something I didn't know was possible. Something I've never experienced before. The deadly silence on the other end of the line had me off edge from the second I picked up. I couldn't stop thinking about the worst scenarios, used to hearing words announcing them. But she was moderately alright when I arrived, and I realised this girl is stirring new emotions in me.

"Thank you," she whispers against my chest once she's calmed down. She doesn't pull away and I don't let go of her.

Having her in my arms feels a thousand times better than it should. She fits perfectly, like I've been waiting for her this whole time. It's time for me to admit my own emotions and face the truth. Take matters into my own hands.

"I'll always come when you'll call, angel."

Her big grey eyes flicker up at me and it takes all the self-control I have to not pull her in for a kiss. So I stare into her eyes, imagining how it would be to have her as more than a friend. Imagining how it would feel to be able to kiss her anytime and anywhere I'd want, keep her close to me the way I'd want. Wondering how I've given up on my rule so fast and what's happening to the game I've started.

When a shy smile creeps onto her lips and a light crimson read heats up her cheeks, I chuckle. She's adorable, and she's mine. Even though she doesn't know and even though I've done nothing to prove it, she is mine.

Her next words, whispered in a low tone, cause her to lower her head in embarrassment. Embarrassment I don't understand where it should stem from. "I'm a coward, aren't I?"

I cup her cheeks, lifting her face up. I melt when her teary eyes meet mine. "You're no coward, angel."

"I couldn't even meet alone," she continues, breaking eye contact. "I couldn't face her and tell her all the things I wanted to."

"That doesn't make you a coward, angel."

She shakes her head in frustration. "I want to hate her, but I don't. I can't hate her."

I brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Look at me, angel." Her eyes are glued to the ground, but on my second call she lifts her gaze. "You, Ashley Levine, are no coward. Crying now or not hating your mother doesn't make you a coward. It makes you strong. You're strong."

"I am not."

I almost roll my eyes. "You faced your past, you faced the woman who left you and shed no tears sitting in that café listening to her words. You're stronger than you realise, angel."

She wraps her arms around my torso again, sighing into my chest, as I hold her close, wishing I could take her pain away.

********

"I know exactly what you need," I say and pull her hand. She looks puzzled at me but follows me anyway.

I haven't let go of her hand since I grabbed it before entering the café. And neither has she. Though I don't want to ruin this day by wondering what's going on between us, I can't help myself. The things she's making me feel, the things she's making me think. The things she's doing to me. And she doesn't even know.