If I Knew Then

Chapter 22: A Long Time Coming

I woke to the sound of quiet shuffling, knowing that it was midday by the brightness that seeped through the crack of my curtains.

      I watched Amelia bustle around quietly, completely unaware of my curious gaze. She spun in mindless directions, in way that told me that she was spiraling. She couldn't seem to decide what to do with herself. Clutching her head because of her certain pounding headache, she finally made a beeline for the bathroom. My best guess was that the appalled look of disgust stemmed from morning breath made even worst by a drunken night of vomiting. I had brushed her teeth to the best of my capacity, considering her flopping head.

     She exited the bathroom a few minutes later, still tiptoeing around my room. I had never seen Amelia so dishevelled. Considering the massive hangover that she was probably fighting, I was surprised by the mere fact that she was standing. Somehow, all of that didn't stop her from cleaning my room. She was picking up empty water bottles and moving discarded clothes into my hamper as if she was the one to have made the mess. She probably thought she had. Unfortunately, it was a matter of lingering habits on my behalf.

      "Amelia," I called out softly. She startled at my voice, fingers pressing even deeper into her temples. "Why don't you come rest a little more?"

      She nodded slowly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

      "I've been up a while."

      Mortification marked her features, no doubt realizing that I was awake to witness her anxious pacing. "I'm so sorry that you had to deal with all this." She groaned and collapsed backwards onto the bed next to me. "You must be so mad."

      "Not even close."

      She tilted her head my way and frowned. "Disappointed."

      Disappointed certain things didn't happen? Sure. Disappointed in her? Never. "Not with you."

      Her brows only furrowed more, until she moaned and looked away. "You're so understanding, and your kindness is only making me more embarrassed." She groaned again and covered her face with her hands.

      "You don't have to be embarrassed with—"

      "Are you kidding?" She was still rambling into her hands. "I barely remember last night, but from the bits I do remember, it's clear that I made a fool of myself. I don't know how you can stand to look at me without grimacing or cringing. I mean—"

       I chuckled softly and shook my head fondly. She didn't notice either action. In times like this, she reminded me of myself. Times where I got to see a flustered Amelia.

      She was still rambling when I propped myself on an elbow and hovered above her.

      "Mia," I tried to interrupt her and pulled her hands away from her face.

      She sucked in a breath at my proximity, words effectively cut short. Just like the night on the bridge, my lungs stilled.

      "Are you sober?" I asked, whispered words a breeze on her parted lips.

      I watched her throat bob as she swallowed hard. "Quite..."

     She barely had time to croak the word before I did what I should have a long time ago. I brought my lips to hers. I gave into the desire I had denied myself on the bridge. A true test of my courage, I managed only a little more than a peck.

      Amelia was stagnant beneath me, and my confidence shattered. I was too late. I missed my chance. With a horrified intake of breath, I released my hold of her bottom lip. If I weren't already in my bedroom, I'd have made move to flee. Instead, I prepared to burry my head in my mattress, to hide as she let me down easy—She didn't let me get far enough.