inspired ; chrismd

[ 10 ]

The short car journey is filled with nothing but an occasional glance to the other side of the handbrake, a harsh blush then, in Chris' case more than mine, a soft clearing of the throat. However, as we arrive, we make eye contact. This contact remains for a matter of seconds before Chris snorts, both of us bursting into fits of laughter, almost as if cued by a director of sorts. We laugh for a good few minutes but then fall into silence again. This time, on the other hand, we are facing each other, some sort of string holding our gazes together. He mutters something under his breath which I do not hear clearly but the mere action alone caused me to smile. Somehow, his hand reaches across the car and pushes a piece of my fringe which had fallen into my eye behind my ear.

"You're stunning. Absolutely perfect, you know that?" His words cause me to blush. I notice his gaze drift down to my lips but then back up to my eyes like he attempted to refrain from kissing me in the first place. For whatever reason, my body goes into auto-pilot. I drift forward in synchronisation with him, his head tilting slightly to the right. Our lips touch and, even though cliche, a feeling, similar to that of a happy surprise, only more intense, fills my bones. His hand moves to the back of my neck and I run my hands through his hair, pressing him even closer to me if that were even possible. Somehow, he pulls me onto his lap so I am straddling him and his hands find my waist. Our lips stay connected, us making out, for at least 15 minutes, by the end of which my breathing is practically non-existent.

I rest my forehead on his and smile widely. 

"That was..." His speech drops out as he is quite obviously at a loss for words, as am I. After a period of silence, I let out a small giggle, still looking into his eyes.

"Shall we go, beautiful?" I give him a dazed look accompanied with a smile and a nod, opening the door and sliding off his lap. He follows me, placing his hands around my waist. Before we move away from the car, hands pull around my waist, spinning me to look at him yet again. His lips connect with mine for a couple of seconds then pull away and form a small smile. I sigh slightly. How did I get so lucky?

We turn and walk hand in hand into the bakery. To my complete and utter surprise, behind the counter stood the lady whom we had met in the airport carpark, the day I returned to Jersey all those months ago.

"Good morning Chris, the usual?"

"Yes, thank you Mrs Child," he replies smirking at my confusion. "This is Molly by the way."

"Ah yes, I've heard all about you young lady. You're very beautiful, may I add," she adds with a smile, her old-worldly kindness radiating. "I remember when I saw you two at the airport. I told him to wait around for you, you know?"

I smile and look at Chris who is blushing slightly, returning my look with happiness evident in his eyes.

"And that's why. I could see how you looked at each other. Chris has never looked at anyone like that and I've known him since he's been this small." She gestures to a height around her hip. I giggle at this.

"He's not grown much then." Chris jabs me playfully in the side with his elbow still grinning. The lady, Mrs Child, moves to the pastries and puts a selection of 3 or 4 into a box, placing the box on the counter for us to take. Chris reaches for his wallet, ready to pay, but the little old lady shakes her head.

"It's on me, don't worry about a thing."

"Are you sure?" I ask, surprised.

"Positive. I'm just glad there's someone around here that makes my Godson happy."

"Godson?"

"She's an old family friend, my godmother." I shrink slightly, smile still plastered on my face yet revelling in the cuteness of their relationship, something I unfortunately never had due to us moving around so much. He takes the box and says his goodbyes to his godmother before leaving the shop, our hands clasped. 

We arrive home in good time, before 10:30, leaving us with the entire day to do whatever we want. First of all, however, Chris lays the pastries from the bakery on a seat and puts the kettle on.

"I know it sounds weird but I don't actually know how you have your tea. You always make it." I chuckle at his weird statement.

"I have it exactly like you do," he laughs at this response.

"I knew there was a reason I love you." His playful response makes my heart swell, that mixed with the confession that causes his face to drop and all colour to fall from his cheeks. He slaps a hand to his mouth in horror.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out, I know it's too soon and all that but it's just-" I shut him up by cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you too."

Sorry for the delay. Learning multiple languages takes a toll on your sanity and it's definitely not a good idea for someone whose been writing in different languages from French to English to Danish to Spanish all week to attempt to write an understandable chapter for a book that seems to have many people reading it. I love all of you people that have taken the time to read this book and I appreciate every single one of you.

Twitter for some sick bants: @life_carbonated

QOTD (cos im spesh like dat and i like to be mainstream sometimes, deal): What's your favourite song atm? <3