Stroked

-Chapter 15 (unedited)-

-Chapter 15-

-Amy-

I scrub the water off my face and out of my ears and delve into the smell of lemons once more.

This stuff is heavenly!

Rich people and their junk...

I toss the wet towel aside and dress in a lacy, gray tank top and a pair of black shorts. I slip on some socks for my freezing feet and head out, closing the bathroom door behind me. I look over at Oliver standing at the window, his back turned to me, dressed in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black boxer/shorts. He doesn't say anything and I wonder if it's because of the previous activities. I hiccup at the alcohol burning my throat.

Ian...

The curtains are drawn back so from behind Oliver I can see the darkness lit up with the moon as the head of the pack of stars. I wonder if he's tempted to draw or paint the scene. He has been kept busy after all, maybe he needs a good painting exercise.

I step forward and he doesn't turn so I continue to his side. I put my hands together and look out of the window, seeing the view and my reflection stare back at me from the glass.

"It's beautiful." Oliver puts a hand up to the glass, leaving behind a hand print.

"Yep, it's a full moon." I say, instantly regretting it. Oliver's face tinges with the slightest bit of pink, but I don't think he's too ashamed, at least I hope he isn't.

Oliver manages to laugh despite what happened.

"I hope I didn't scare you at the lake." He scratches at the back of his neck, ruffling up his t-shirt.

I press my own hand to the window.

"No, don't worry, I'm not easily frightened."

Just, when it comes to the family matters, that's all.

Oliver suddenly turns to face me, his stubble growing out more from not being shaved, and his eyes looking tired but something else shines in them. I'm unsure though, of what it could be. He puts his warm hands on my shoulders and stares at me for a moment.

I left him hanging...

He pulls me in for a hug and we're enveloped in one another. I soon put my arms around him and can feel the defined muscles of his back underneath the t-shirt and underneath my fingertips. He smells like water and cracked paint, but maybe that's just my imagination or some is still caked under his nails or in his ears.

I probably reek of lemon.

"You're drunk Amy." He states and I nod.

I know.

He strokes my long hair down my head and repeats the process a bit over and over again. The comfort is foreign to me, nobody ever really has the time to put up with me. It's been a long time since I've been comforted and Josh never ever really did.

Oliver pulls back and for a second I almost miss his arms, his touch, and his comfort.

"Let's head out on the porch." Oliver slides open the glass door connected to the window and a mixture of a breeze and the Atlanta heat brushes over me, leaving me icy, yet sticky.

Oliver leans his body over the long, thin black railing and I sit down in the wicker chair in the corner, the mini-white table occupied by some strange looking flowered pot.

"Breathe it all in." Oliver instructs, flaring his nostrils and wave his arms like a bird. The wind carrying his bangs up and all around a bit.

He opens his eyes and grins.