Spring [Completed]

TWENTY

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HER

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can•dor

noun

1. the quality of  being open and honest in expression; frankness.

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Friends. A seven letter word that I'd like to forget.

Friends. I chuckle to myself as I turn the burner's temperature down, letting the soup on the stove simmer. The smell of freshly cooked chicken fills the kitchen as I move to the island and prepare the dumplings. My hands move briskly as I whisk the bowl of ingredients together vigorously in frustration.

I've never wanted to be just friends with Ethan Price.

My grip on the whisk tightens before I stop altogether, placing my hands flat on the counter. I close my eyes as I try to suppress the memory of his hands on my body, just a few days ago. I bite my lip as I think about how good it felt to be close to him again.

Stop it, Imani. I take a deep breath and continue whisking.

I don't miss him. I don't wonder what he's up to or if he's thinking about me. I'm focused on my family and a life without him in it. I don't need him. I don't need those smiling eyes or that smooth voice or those life saving, miracle working hands...

"Shit," I curse under my breath when the mix splashes, landing on my face and clothes. My eyes begin to water as I laugh bitterly and push the bowl aside. I grab a kitchen towel and begin to wipe off my face. I don't need him, but... I want him. I want him so damn bad.

With shaking hands, I grab my phone and open it to his contact. I want to call him now and tell him everything I've been too scared to admit to myself, but I know that if I do, everything will change. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that yet.

Granted, my life isn't exactly perfect, but it could be far worse. But, it could be better. That's the thing, isn't it? The uncertainty of it all. I want to know that I'm making the best decision possible, but there's no way to know unless I do it.

After blowing out a shaky breath, I push my fear and anxiety aside, and I do it. I choose him.

My finger lingers on the call button as the phone rings in my hand. The longer it rings, the more I begin to doubt myself. What if he's busy? I'd hate to bother him.

All my doubt fades away when the call connects and his voice sounds through the speaker.

"Hey." He only says one word, but it's all I need for me to picture him perfectly. The faint smile that he wears as he speaks, the phone pressed up against his ear. Maybe he's running a hand through his thick curls as he sits at the counter or on the couch.

Just the sound of his voice brings me so much joy, and that's how I know... that it's him. It has to be him.

"Imani?" The way he says my name brings warmth to my cheeks and butterflies to my stomach. "You there?" he asks, and I hesitate as I hear the garage door unlock.