I knew it, I know you

I am not Chris

Gracie POV

I was sitting on the couch in Albert's apartment.

-"Do you want something?" he asks me.

-' The truth. - I answer.

He sighs and sits down on the chair in front of me.

-'Gracie I...

-Albert, just tell me. Whatever happened is in the past.

-Chris and I were friends in high school. - It's starting. - More than friends. I thought we were best friends, but he just hated me. I... had feelings for him.

-Feelings? - I ask, surprised.

-"Yes. One night he called me to meet him. He told me he loved me. He made fun of me and my feelings only to dump me the next day saying it was just a joke.

-Albert you...

-Gracie- he takes my hand. - It's in the past. It was a stupid mistake when I was a teenager. Chris is the person I loved and hated the most. He's always been like that.

-From the beginning?

-Yeah.

We stood in silence until Al broke it.

-I'll understand you if you want to end this and if you see me differently now.

-'No, you idiot,' I smiled. - 'I told you this was in the past.

I stood up and hugged him. His scent, his touch... Albert returned the hug.

-It's getting late, I can drive you. - Albert whispers.

-'Leave me alone, idiot. - I smile.

It's a while before I let go of Albert.

-I can stay a little longer.;

He laughs.

-Are you hungry? We could cook something together.

I nod and look at him. Then I realize I'm still in my dress and he's still in his suit.

-I'm dying to cook in a designer dress. - I joke.

-I could borrow you something.

-The last time you gave me your jacket things didn't end well.

I followed him to his room. A big white room, grey furniture, paintings and... a typewriter.

-You use a typewriter? - I ask.

-Yes. I prefer to write letters.

'Who uses typewriters?' I thought.

-Take them. - Albert hands me a T-shirt and shorts.-You can change in the bathroom.

-Thank you.

I opened his bathroom door and changed my clothes. When I came out he wasn't in the room. I let myself look at some of his things. Pictures, albums, watches.

I left the room and followed the sound of music coming from the kitchen. There he was, dancing.

-' Someone wasn't that boring.- I said ironically.

-'Will you join?

I went over to him and started helping him.

-'Why do you prefer to write letters? - I ask.

He smiles.

- It's more sentimental and matters more than me sending you a message on Instagram.

-You're right.