Vanilla (GoodNovel Exclusive)

03 | VANILLA

The sun was only just beginning to rise over the steady line of houses when Jasper was snatched away from his slumber, sitting up in his bed as the sheets fell to his hips, the pillow beside him dishevelled and misplaced as his eyes dragged over the ghost of Genevieve's presence. The only remaining detail of her left were the sheet marks printed into his arms from where he had wrapped his arms around her, the sheets bundled in his fists and his lips against her skin.

He frowned- a puzzled frown- as he climbed to his feet; stuffing his legs in his sweat pants and padding his way across the wooden flooring of his room and into the cold bathroom, where only a bloody towelette and plaster wrappers scattered across the countertop, spoke to their evening, plastic bold and iridescent, flashing in the light like highway signs.

His lips parted at the absence of her sneakers that he remembered distinctly to sit by the counter on the floor, saturated in water. He shook his head, pushing his bedroom door open before he made his way out of his room and down the corridor, determination showing in his features; the creases of his face and the setting of his sharp jaw.

The kitchen was left empty brightened only by the untucked chair where the small girl had taken a seat the previous evening, moments before it all began. The fridge was not closed properly- left open just a crack as light poured through the gap and illuminated the kitchen in a harsh yet silent white light that fanned over the tiles... and the laundry light was barely visible down the twist of yet another corridor. The dryer was silenced.

His heart sunk in his chest as he crossed the kitchen, pulling open the fridge properly before he pushed it shut once more, sealing away the light though it would not do much- his milk was probably already warmed and butter softened.

Jasper then turned and made his way towards his laundry, his suspicion confirmed as the dryer now sat silent, unmoving. But, he could see her socks, the socks he left to dry on the rack in the far corner, gleaming metallic in the heavy laundry lighting that partly consisted of the rising sun bleeding through his window in a high arch, winking behind the swaying trees and whispering against his skin as a small smile graced his lips and he picked up her socks. Tube socks- white tube socks with small, almost invisible frills sewn to the tops where they clung to her calves.

He had left them to dry, for he had hated when socks went through the dryer and came out shrunken, and you had to shove your toes into the fabric and feel them stretch against your toenails and bent toes for the entirety of the day. He could not help but notice how small her feet were, and he could just imagine the size in the memory of last night- her legs wrapped around his torso, his hands moving in her hair, their lips tangled.

He shook his head, tossing the socks into a nearby washing basket that sat atop the dryer, empty, and made his way out of the laundry and into the kitchen once more, where he picked up his mobile phone from the benchtop. He paced sluggishly across the kitchen before he reached across the counter and pressed the button on his automatic coffee machine, sliding a mug under the trickle of coffee that began to flow—steaming as it splashed into the bottom of his mug. He flicked through his notifications, leaning up against the counter as he listened keenly to the sound of his morning brew being... brewed.

Genevieve sat upright to the sound of her alarm blaring through the silence, followed closely by the sound of cutlery hitting bowls and voices wafting to the threshold of the staircase, and swiped her hands across her heavy eyelids. She knew immediately what time it was, as she had set that detail on the digital clock that sat on the nightstand by her bed, her pale blue walls that set the room in a misty haze decorated by banners of school spirit from her hometown, the township of Washington, New Jersey, the town in which she still lived currently.