Writing's Second Taste

Chapter Thirty-Six: I Like You

I couldn't bare how thick the tension was inside the room so instead of sitting on the blanket, both of us opted to stand up and be as far apart as possible. This was so sad, we were literally thrown into a situation wherein it could be a perfect opportunity to talk everything out, but instead, we were scared to utter a single word.

Hey Adam, can I tell you a secret?

I miss you.

"I know you're curious why I never said anything to Soph," he finally spoke out and I could literally play the fanfare at that instant because hallelujah, we were finally talking.

I pushed back my excitement and nodded slowly. He exhaled loudly and ran a hand through his dark hair, "Because I feel like if I told her, everything's actually true."

I lifted a brow because of that explanation. Did he think that this was all a hallucination? Sorry, but while I do want to turn back time and do things differently, I didn't want to be the one to burst this bubble for him. Though to be honest, I was the queen of in denial so I wasn't the one to talk.

The only thing I wanted to turn out another way was how I was suddenly banished from his apartment before we could have an actual conversation. However, if you were to ask me if I regretted breaking things off, then it was an automatic no.

While he did hold a piece of my heart, things weren't meant to be.

He saw my inquisitive look and he finally dared to turn towards my direction, finally giving me glimpse of his handsome face, "I didn't want to believe that you walked away from me and I kept hoping that you would come back."

Why were those words so reminiscent of what I told Justin?

And why was my heart breaking all the same way?

"Adam, if you only knew how much I wanted to see you," I muttered softly, "I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, and as much as I wanted to call you, it wouldn't be fair."

He started to walk towards me, his steps heavy and calculated. Just when he was near, he reached out his arm and even though he was good at showing composure, the slight shakiness of his hand and the sheen of sweat on his palm said otherwise, "Then let's not throw Soph's gift to waste."

It's just one night, right?

"Okay," I murmured in agreement, placing my hand on top of his and I watched as his fingers gently enclosed it. His hold was loose, signifying that he was allowing me to pull away at any second.

Just one night.

I, for one, did the complete opposite and clasped his hand tightly. I caught his gaze and tried to convey to him that just for the hours that we were here, it was like we were back to his apartment when everything was still so right.

He led me out of the room where the picnic was left. Our meals were half-eaten and the bottle of champagne was still unopened.

"You know the fascinating part about this museum?" he said, walking right next to me, "All, except for one room if I remember correctly, are filled with local artists. Many of those were once students of the university."

He then tugged me towards another room, one in particular that reminded me of something Emma made. At the entrance, there was brief explanation that this was project done by a couple that wanted to tell their story in a different way.

The walls were painted in the image of a beautiful sky on the brink of sunset. The floor was one that reflected a river stream and in the very middle of the room, the centerpiece of a room filled with different sculptures and mixed arts, was a bridge.