Cuts and Bruises

Chapter Eighteen

Here's a short chapter for today! :) 

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The house was a mess. I was semi-prepared for it to be in a complete state of disarray, and I even apologized to Vincent for the mess before even stepping foot in the house. But when I actually opened the front door, my jaw dropped. There were books and blankets strewn everywhere, coupon clippings all over the table and counter, glasses placed on every flat surface, and files all over the dining room. 

I felt the first sting of embarrassment the second I laid eyes on the mess, but when I realized that Vincent was beside me with his gaze scanning the entire room, I wanted to disappear. 

"Wow," I breathe out involuntarily, and feel my cheeks begin to flush. "I'm so sorry, it's usually not this bad."

When I do finally muster the confidence to look at Vincent and gauge his reaction, I'm perplexed when I see him shrug and glance back at me. "It's not that bad." 

"Why bother lying?" I ask incredulously. "I have eyes!"

Vincent chuckles a little and shakes his head, giving the room a last once-over before looking back at me, completely unfazed. "My house gets messy too," He simply says. "It's not a big deal." 

His reaction lessens my embarrassment considerably, but I glance at the two McDonalds bags in his hands and refuse to let him eat while surrounded in filth. "Let's eat on the porch," I suggest. "It's a nice night anyway."

We exit through the very door we had entered moments ago, and I silently promise myself to wake up early tomorrow and tidy up. I knew my mom had too much on her plate to maintain a clean house-- I'm sure that was actually the least of her worries. So, of course, the least I could do was lend a hand while I was home. 

The porch was my favorite thing about the entire house. It was a modest home but its simplicity kept my admiration never ending. There were steps leading up to the porch that I spent so many nights on during my childhood from trying to learn the constellations and study the phases of the moon to having to cool off after a bad game while my dad sat beside me calming me down. 

Sitting here with Vincent felt almost surreal. I never would have suspected that he would end up at my house with me with an open knowledge of my family situation. But Vincent was good at proving me wrong: first how I feel about him, and now the depth of our relationship. 

"You're right," Vincent says after a moment of contemplation sitting on the porch. "It is a nice night." 

I grab my burger and grin at him. "The perfect night for McDonalds under the stars." 

"That sounds so romantic," Vincent teases, throwing me a lopsided grin. "I wouldn't be able to imagine a better date." 

His joke made my stomach turn in a way that I wasn't used to, and I had to force a short laugh before eating my burger in an attempt to seem too busy to come up with a formal response. The atmosphere felt charged whenever we were alone together, and right now was no exception. 

"So," Vincent says, and straightens up, as if he's prepared to talk about something serious. "The surgery." 

I take a deep breath, prepared to tell him I didn't want to talk about it, starting off with: "Vincent..." 

But he doesn't let me get the words out. "I know you probably don't want to talk about this right now, but I was hoping I could potentially give you some ease and tell you that I'll talk to my dad about what he could do about a pro-bono surgery." 

The words almost confused me more than they made me feel better, and I felt my brow crease as I finally turned to look him in the eyes. When I did, I almost regretted it; his eyes were swimming with thought and concern, focused on me, as if I might break if he were to say the wrong thing. 

"Pro-bono," I repeat quietly. "Is he a doctor?" 

Vincent nods enthusiastically. "I think maybe he would be able to help you out so it could lessen the financial burden." 

When he mentions that money is an issue, I tense up and feel myself withdrawal, my invisible barriers shooting up to keep him from knowing about our financial issues. But Vincent's eyes were apparently not only watching my body but my mind too, because he could sense the distance I was trying to shove between us immediately. 

"I don't mean to offend you," He says quickly. "I just... I know how hard it is. I know you've been sending your mom your work checks, and she had to leave to pick up another shift..." 

I gulp. This was embarrassing. 

"I, uh," I try to tell him that it's okay, to refute his offer, but to be honest, it would have been the biggest gift he could ever give my family. And when I thought about saying no to maintain my pride, the image of Danny lying in the hospital bed resurfaced in my mind. 

"Hey," Vincent says softly, and before I can calculate his actions, he reaches his hand up to gently cup my cheek to bring my attention back to him. "Just think about it," He murmurs, his eyes searching mine. "I want to help." 

Words escape me the second I'm hyper aware of the feeling of Vincent's fingertips brushing against my cheeks, and the way that he was in kissing distance and I hadn't noticed it before. My knees were turned toward him, almost subconsciously, as if my body wanted to tell him that I wanted nothing more than to be as close as possible to him. 

I can't tell if only seconds or full minutes pass when he leans forward. His lips were mere inches from mine, his eyes searching mine nervously as he came closer, shaky exhales escaping my parted lips in anticipation for feeling his. For a long moment, I just look at him, until my eyes finally slip closed, and I feel myself leaning toward him to finally squash the distance. 

But nothing came. 

The feeling of his lips, the intenseness of his minty breath against my chin, or even a whisper. His hand slipping away from my cheek forces me to open my eyes in time to catch him pull away from me slightly, like he thought better of kissing me, while thoughts raged in the background of his mind. 

The first twinge of embarrassment hits me first as I wonder if I had just made up the entire moment in my head, but shortly after the gravity of the situation kicks in, my cheeks are bright red and I feel a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Almost like I was hurt he didn't kiss me. 

I look away so he can't see the disappointed embarrassment written across my features and stand up. "I'm actually not hungry. I think I'm just going to go to bed. You're staying upstairs in the first room on the left." 

With that, I turn and start for the door as fast as possible, hoping that distance between us would terminate the horrible feelings mixing together in my stomach. 

"Lily," Vincent murmurs softly, almost apologetically, but I pretend I don't hear him.

I laid awake in bed for hours, replaying the moment over and over again, wondering what could have gone wrong. Even though I came up with different theories or ideas, my uncertainty kept me both awake and worried throughout most of the night.