Only, Always, and Forever You

44 - "Girl"

Cole's POV:

"What is it, Cole?" she asks.

"I..."

I love you, Amara.

That's what I want to say.

It's what I've wanted to say since the moment I met her in that library.

Since I realized she was the one person on this planet in which I couldn't point out a single flaw.

Since I made that promise to her father's grave— a promise I wouldn't even think to make for anyone else.

I love you.

She cares for me. She at least cares enough to sit by me and soothe me before I have the chance to explode. She understands who I am and how I feel without me even telling her.

She's thoughtful and empathetic, she's kind and pure. There is not a single cruel bone in her body. She's my person: my peace.

There's no other way to express to her how I feel except by using the three words that I've only ever muttered to my mom under my breath. Keep in mind, that was one time when I was 7.

I don't even know if my mouth remembers how to form those words. They are 3 syllables that seemingly no longer exist in my vocabulary...

And yet, for her I'd learn and memorize the entire dictionary— in English and Spanish.

Because I love you, Amara.

But I don't say that. Not right now, at least. I don't know why, but I just can't. So instead, I stupidly say:

"I want to know what '¿Como te merezco? Me recuerdas a él' means."

She suddenly gets very flustered, as if she's embarrassed about what she said. Or maybe she's just regretful since I remember.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she feigns innocently, "I never said that."

"Is Amara Fadel really trying to lie to me?" I pry, knowing that she's playing dumb to avoid my request.

"Maybe," she admits, and her innocent façade crumbles into a smile and giggle.

I pick her up and twirl her around as she squeals and giggles uncontrollably. My arms around her waist and hers on my shoulders as her hands rest on the back of my neck.

After enough spinning and messing around, I set her down in front of me but our arms remain in place.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I assure her with a smirk.

"Maybe," she repeats again.

This time, instead of swooping her up and spinning her, I duck down to her height and place my lips on hers, savoring her sweet taste and soft pout.

She immediately reciprocates and kisses me back. Every time I kiss her, it's like heaven on earth— it is heaven on earth. I've kissed other girls before, but she is nothing like anyone I've ever met before.

Amara is perfect.

Amara is the only one who fills me with joy and serenity by just looking my way, so you can only imagine how it must feel to kiss her...

However, our kiss is rudely interrupted when someone clears their throat. For a second I thought it might be Luke, coming back early with Ella. But then I (unwillingly) pull my lips away from Amara's and look up.

I'm met with a cold glare, empty eyes that hold no regard for anyone but themselves stare at me with disgust.

Hello, father.

I thought I escaped him, but I guess not. I can feel my blood start to boil again as my jaw clenches tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, I hear a soft voice speak up.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson. It's lovely to meet you," Amara chimes from beside me. I'm partially grateful she's saying something so that I don't have to, but I also wish she didn't because it's James Anderson she's talking to. "I'm Amara."

"Oh," my father studies her with repulsion, "So you're the one that my wife invited into our home."

She must not see the disgust in his expression, and her kind heart thinks he's addressing her this way in a positive manner...

"Yes, and I can't express how grateful I am—"

"Don't be. You're no longer welcome. We don't host random strays who were abandoned by their parents," at his words, which I saw coming from a mile away, Amara is taken aback. I am enraged at what my father has said. It's one thing if he speaks to me that way, but it's a whole other issue now. "Now, I'm trying to speak with my son, so can you leave us?" he finishes.

I'm about to open my mouth to say something as cruel as his glare, but Amara speaks first...

"Excuse me?" she starts, and she says so in a tone that I've never heard before. She doesn't sound upset, but she sounds like she's in disbelief.

"You heard me, girl," he returns.

"I told you that my name is Amara, Sir," she says in a bitter voice, one which isn't normal for her. I'm proud for a moment because she stood up for herself, but I'm also beyond annoyed with my father for what he said.

After registering that Amara spoke back to him, my father looks at me in shock. That only lasts a second, though, before it's replaced with disappointment.

"I should have guessed that this was the type of low life you'd hang out around, Cole. But I have to say, I didn't expected them to be so below us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amara retorts before I can speak. She's getting into dangerous territory...

I speak up before my father has the chance to answer, "Enough, father. I'll speak to you later. First I need to—"

"Shut up, Cole!" he yells, infuriated that someone has the guts to speak back to him, "What that means, girl, is that I didn't expect my son to hang around such worthless trash as you! I shouldn't be so surprised though. He's probably just using you as an easy whore and then he'll move on and throw you away like the garbage you are—"

Before he can finish, my fist makes contact with his jaw, and I hear a devastating crack. He is knocked out cold on the ground, and I soothe my knuckles as I watch his pathetic body lay still. I don't think I've ever punched anything so hard in my life.

I turn back around to Amara who is staring in shock at my unconscious father on the ground. Guilt hits me like a truck as I watch a single tear stream down her cheek. I reach to wipe it away but stop when she flinches...

"I want to go home," she mumbles, avoiding all eye contact.