11 Reasons Why

#4: Hand

11 Reasons Why

 © Bree Stonefield, 2013

4. Hand

The first time his hand crept upon hers and took it in a gentle grip, butterflies were filling her chest.

His hand was not soft, was not that warm. The tips of his fingers were a bit calloused from thousand times of touching guitar strings, and his palm felt cold under hers—not icy cold but calming cold if that made sense.

His touch was firm but so gentle. It somehow kept her on her feet yet she felt like she was flying through seven skies. His hold reassured her that he was there for her, and it brought a smile to light up on her face.

Early October, 2010

"So, you're telling me that you and Grant have been together for what, a month now, and this is your first official date?" my cousin Santana asked over the phone, her voice filled with disbelief.

                I huffed, positioning my cell over my right ear as I tried to zip my purse. "Yes. You know how it is between the two of us. We go to different schools—heck, he goes to a boarding school. The school only lets him out on weekends twice a month. We don't really... spend a lot of time together. So that when we do, it's gonna be special."

                "You guys are the weirdest couple I have ever known," she said now, amused. "Wait. Don't tell me... Have you even kissed?"

                My cheeks tinged with red. I really did not like talking about... this. Especially to a cousin. Especially if that cousin happened to be Santana, a girl who had dated like half of the male population in her school. Or two thirds of it. "So what? We prefer using our mouths to smile and laugh and talk, not to eat each other's faces."

                "Oh my God," Santana screeched, but I could feel laughter bubbling up her throat. "I can't believe this!"

                I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Quite honestly, I didn't even understand how kissing was supposed to be a must when you're dating someone. And then I suppressed a groan when I saw the clock on the wall. "Well, Santana, talking to you has been fun and all," not, "but I've got a date to attend, so... bye!"

                I hung up before she made another comment, took my purse, slipped my feet into my flats, and ran downstairs. Just as I reached the last step, I heard a knock on the door. My heartbeat accelerated and I paused for a while to take a deep breath and neutralize my face from any trace of overexcitement. Or crazy giggles. Or goofy grins. Or anything remotely close to those stupid things that I might do.

                After I composed myself, I walked coolly toward the front door, and opened it calmly. Grant stood there, eyes on the ground but he looked up immediately. His face was tinged with pink and there was a small smile on his face, as if he was nervous. His hands were clasped behind his back suspiciously.

                "Hi," I said shyly.

                He didn't say anything for a while, and just as I was starting to worry that I'd said the wrong thing, he showed me his hands. Or rather, what was on them. A bouquet of flowers. Or more accurately, roses. Red, white, and pink roses—but mostly white. My favorite. And it was somewhat kinda ironic how he brought me flowers in the fall. Where and how had he even got them? "Hello."

                He held out the bouquet, and my breath hitched as my hand moved to take it. "Thank you," I said, admiring the flowers for a little while before looking up and giving him a big smile. "I love them."