Give Me Back Whats Mine ➳ David Dobrik

Chapter Twenty ➳ Years And Years Of The Same Picture

NATALIE

It was hard to believe that very morning I'd been laying out on the beach with Fletcher, soaking in the warm weather of Santa Monica.

And then I was in the mountains, looking down at David, sitting in front of a window that looked out over the snow covered ground and trees, all rugged up.

It was hard to say which scene I preferred.

The sun and the sea and the sand and Fletcher. It was instant ease. Everything about Santa Monica had been light and fun and relaxing. Like taking a deep breath and letting your mind clear. It was that excitement that you could only get from experiencing something new and good. It was holding hands and melting ice cream.

But what was happening right in front of me was completely melancholic. It was years and years of the same picture, one on top of the other. It was David smiling up at me and the window and the snow. It made me feel like I was seven and twelve and fifteen. It was us landing back in Chicago for Christmas the last couple of years. It was our shared childhood that had turned into our shared adulthood.

'Hey.'

We stood for a moment, just looking at each other.

It was hard to not think about the last moment we'd shared alone.

I'd kept that memory at bay for the last three days. Tucked safely in the back of my mind. I'd wanted my time away to just be me and Fletcher.

But now that I was standing there looking at David, it was hard to not let my mind wander in that direction.

His legs entwined with mine, his hands around my waist. 

My mind cleared again. But in a completely different way.

'So ...' He said, closing his laptop, but not making any move to get up from his seat. 'How was ... how was Santa Monica?'

'Ah, it was ... sunny.' I said, not really sure how much to share.

We were silent again.

Once upon a time I would have given him a minute by minute account, which he would have begrudgingly listened to just because he knew I wanted him to know everything.

But now there was just this, a need from both of us for me to be short and concise with my choice of words.

'I missed you.'

The words came tumbling out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think.

I didn't instantly regret them though. They appeared to bring the boy in front of me some sort of comfort, a comfort he seemed to be lacking.

As if my words granted him permission, David finally got up from where he was sitting and strode over to me, enveloping me in his arms.

'I missed you too.' He whispered, his arms tightening around me, his cold nose pressed against my warm cheek.

Again I was seven and twelve and fifteen. He was my best friend and my neighbor and the boy who climbed over the fence that separated our houses. The kid who threw snow balls at me and roasted me marshmallows on the fireplace in my living room.

How could we flit between this ease and the other thing.

I didn't want to give the other thing a name.

We'd almost given it a name in New York, and that hadn't worked out all that well.

'Okay, what's new?' I asked quickly, stepping out of the hug before I permanently attached myself to him.