My New Muse (Mild Wattpad Version) (Completed) [SLOWLY BEING EDITED]

17. Shopping

We're sitting on the floor, and he's looking at me with a confused expression on his face.

"'Your new muse'?" he asks.

"Yeah. You're my newfound inspiration for everything I do."

He smiles at me - another genuine, breathtaking smile.

"Awe, thanks. Well, your my new muse, too."

I grin at him. Then I start to laugh; not giggle in that 'cute' way that some girls do, but downright howling and snorting with laughter.

"What is it?" he asks, with his smile still in place, but a touch of confusion is now on his face.

"It's just that-" I start, but I'm interrupted by a giggle. I start again. "It's just that I'm feeling so many things at once. I'm happy and sad and angry and in so much emotional pain, sometimes it's hard to breathe. It's overwhelming."

With a pained expression, he leans over and kisses me.

"I wish I could say that "I understand", but I don't. All I can say is that I'm so sorry, Leah. You may not want to hear it, but it hurts to see you in so much pain. If there's anything that I can do to help, I'm here. I'll always be here."

I bite the inside of my cheek, and then huff out a breath.

"I just need you to keep being here, David; that's all I need from you."

He nods his head, but I can tell that he's not satisfied with my answer; he feels as if he's not doing enough.

"Hey, Leah."

"Hm?" I ask.

He chews his lip for a second, then looks up at me sand speaks.

"There's this place that I want to take you to."

"Really? Where?" I ask, intrigued.

"Well, I own this place in Westmoreland-"

"Really, David? How many houses do you have?" I ask, now flabbergasted.

He simply shrugs.

"Well, I sell ganja, don't I? My ganja farmer lives in Westmorland."

"You sell ganja on the side", I hiss at him. "That's not a good enough reason to buy a fucking house."

"Oh, well," he says with a straight face.

I sigh and look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"So I want to take you there. It's a beach house, though. So you'd have to bring your swimsuit."

I feel a sense of elation, but all to soon, it dies.

"I'm not allowed to go swimming," I mutter.

"Oh," he says, and drops his head. We sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

"Well, we could always go when I'm healed," I say to him.

"Yeah," he answers, but I know that he feels like shit; he feels like he can't help me.