Two Hearts {H.S.}

Ch. 6

Up Up & Away by Kid Cudi

I floats around in my bedroom

Turn around, see myself in the mirror, I guess I'm cool

And those happy thoughts in my head

The risen golden sun peaked its wide-open eye onto my drowsy rumpled body still curled in the chaotically peaceful layers of blankets. Sounds of laughing children and cawing seagulls pulled the sleep riddled cotton from my ears as the already awoken day pulled me from my tardy slumber.

I stretched my arms and toes til they quivered as a smiley yawn consumed my features. For just a moment, I paused and took a generous look around the room I know like the back of my hand then up at the moon painted ceiling above my head. Every time I wake up, whether it be noon or night, I always try to take a glance of the places and things I've been blessed with and that have come to accent who I am-- some days this is much harder than others, but, thankfully, today it's not too difficult. 

With a sluggish roll, I twisted to the side of my bed and ungraciously managed to get myself from the devilishly tempting snare of soft quilt and fuzzy knit. The roped rug underneath my feet gave protection from the ever-present icy chill of hardwood floor in the morning— an indescribable mystery I will forever resent.

I quietly slipped on furry, cabin socks with my oversized cream sweatshirt that encased my shivering frame like a potato sack. The small trek from bed to bathroom to kitchen seemed somehow even more effortless and light today like gravity had been lifted just for me in my apartment. 

And then I remembered.

The blinding flash of his pearly teeth with the two in the top middle being an endearingly bit longer than the rest. The flirty imprint of dimples in rosy cheeks. The mischievous sparkle of watermelon green with wispy black seeds enhancing its outline. The harmonious sound of our laughter getting caught in a twirling tango. The final kiss of eyelash on shy, feverish skin.

Mid-step I have to stop myself and lean my body against the counter as all the breath is forcefully knocked out by a sharp and sudden wave of insecurity. Did that truly happen? Am I imagining this all?

After managing to swim my drowning memory to shore and letting the breeze push salty air into my deprived lungs and the damp crevices in my mind, I pushed myself away from the fake marbled island and begin making breakfast. 

Due to my constant morning nausea, I've never been a person to eat large meals when I wake, however, I found my way around that by making smoothies or eating fresh fruit. This was most definitely a mango-pineapple morning.

As I prepared the fruit and blender, I replayed the entirety of last night in my head so many times it looked like a film stuck in fast-forward on a loop. I was becoming dizzy with the amount of questions circling my brain like a spoke in a Tour De France participant's wheel. Round and round, never ending. Head over heals, never ending. 

Coming to the conclusion that, while I do have a fantastic imagination, I could not have dreamed all those specific details about Harry in my constant ferris wheel of topics brain. There had to be some truth to what happened last night.

Could I have imagined the sweeping caress of his warm fingers on my blushing skin? Yes

Could I have imagined the entire walk to my apartment? No