2 kids

Sixth sense.

Ashley.

A week has passed since the encounter with Noah.

A week I've spent doing the most intense soul searching ever. A week I've spent reminiscing about the old times. A week I've attempted to learn how to open up again, leave my comfort zone and leave the loneliness behind.

Ever since the breakup with Alex, I've been a mess. A part of my heart was ripped directly out of my chest, leaving a deep and aching wound. I've found an unhealthy comfort in loneliness, stirring everything inside of me – but in an unpleasant way.

Noah has unlocked hidden memories in me. Memories I wanted to forget. Memories I wanted to move on from. He's not the one to blame, he doesn't even know. His presence itself was soothing and brought me comforting memories. It reminded me of old times, the ones where life in Florida felt good. It reminded me of how I used to feel when I covered my eyes and refused to acknowledge the truth. His presence reminded me of what I thought life could be, of the ideas and dreams and hopes I had in mind. I'm scared of what those memories, those emotions may trigger.

Yet the childish heart of mine is thrilled by his presence. The little girl in me is reliving her first crush all over again.

Though Noah has grown up to a handsome young man, I can still spot the boyish features behind that professional glance of his. The wild surfer boy who battled the fierce waves and loved playing soccer with his friends for hours. I can still see the boy who feared the future and stood up for those who needed it. Behind that professional mask of his, he's still there.

In the most peaceful silence in a long time, I lay on my bed, a book in my hands and just enjoy the silence. Soft raindrops roll down my windows and a dog barks somewhere down the street every now and then.

Alone in my room, I get lost in my romance book. With each turn of the page I get more and more lost in the story, losing touch with reality. Until I'm not finding myself imagining the scenes with Alex. Mentally recreating them in my head, imagining how it would feel. Wishing it could come true. Wishing I'd get the chance to recreate those soft, romantic scenes with Alex one day.

Wishing....

A loud knock on the door brings me back to reality, and I realise I had closed the book and just stared at the window. Lost in my own imaginary world I wish could be the real one.

My dad carefully peeks inside. "What are you doing?"

"Just reading. Why?"

He takes a seat on my bed. A year ago he'd stay by the door, unable to cross the short distance to my bed. He'd maybe want to do it, but he wouldn't move. The improvement in our relationship that we've made shows me that any relationship can be worked on, and fixed. If both parties want to. It's a long journey, with a lot of bumps and obstacles. But with proper communication and an attempt to understand each other, and with patience, it will be mastered.

"I was wondering if you'd join me for dinner."

Always so formal with words.

I frown. "Something happened?"

"Can't I take my daughter out for dinner without a reason?"

I shrug, emotionless. "I just thought you were busy these days."

"Yes, there has been more work, but I can still find time for you." I don't even know what to say, so I keep quiet. There used to be times when I'd never hear him say those words. Times when he'd purposely load more work on his shoulders just so he wouldn't have to come home. Times when he'd forget about his daughter and lock himself in his office. Times when he'd put his work before me. Times when he'd be so distant I wondered if I didn't live with a stranger.