Surviving Stirling

Chapter Twenty Three.

If I could pick any superpower right now it would, without a doubt, be X-ray vision so I could see through the walls and know if the murmur of sound coming from the kitchen was actually Stirling.

After yesterday, the whole - us nearly kissing thing - it added a layer of awkwardness that made me not want to face him.

I was sure he'd be anchored to his bed for at least another week of healing, but someone was looking through the kitchen cabinets and we were the only ones home.

As I edged around the corner slowly, my heart rate quickened. I would honestly rather the house be getting ransacked by burglars than the idea of seeing him.

He had his back to me, searching through the drawers. I stood frozen, staring at his frame of broad shoulders and chiseled back muscle, not really knowing what to do with myself.

"Hey." I uttered timorously but he completely ignored me and from that I made the assumption the rejection had sunk in. 

My stomach plunged like an aeroplane free falling from the sky, he was mad at me.

He turned around, flinching like he wasn't expecting me to be here. I did a cringey wave and instantly wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

He unplucked an ear phone from his ear and let it dangle out of his collar.

"Hey." He greeted, not at all lacking in confidence because he wears that 'don't give a fuck attitude' like a crown above his head.

I offered a nervous half smile, "I just said that."

"I didn't hear you."

Things went quiet.

A heaviness hung in the air between us. He smoothed butter over bread, neither one of us making eye contact with the other. I could hear the sleek metal scrape against the crumbs - the silence was killing me.

There were no words on the tip of my tongue, I had no clue what to say to him and likewise I don't think he knew what to say to me.

We nearly kissed!

There was a giant circus elephant in the room with us, wearing a bright fuchsia tutu and blowing a yellow party horn with its asshole and yet neither one of us addressed it.

"You're up and walking." I sliced through the excruciating quiet with pure stupidity. I mean duh, obviously he's up and walking. Why would I even point that out?

"Took like an hour to get from my bedroom to the kitchen." I nodded — not that he would've seen. He wouldn't even look at me.

He had moved onto his second piece of bread and the silence was back, falling over us like a thick unbreathable dust cloud.

My brain spun around like a water wheel, trying to gather thoughts on what I could possibly say next to keep the conversation going and make the atmosphere between us a little less tense.

Say something smart Rae.
Say something funny.
Think. Think. Think. Think.

"So, you cook?"

"It's a sandwich."

He breathed out a deep sigh and looked up at me, "so I got pretty drunk last night."

"Oh!" I blurted out in a panic. "Yeah I know." I felt every muscle in my body stiffen with uncomfortableness.

He flattened his hands on the surface of the breakfast bar and breathed deeply through his nose.

"Did I do something or say something that was out of line?"