Page 63 of Just a Taste
Being alone in my own space has always been the goal. I remember being seven years old, sharing a room with threeof my brothers and dreaming of one day having a room all to myself, where I could read and play without interruption. Without having to share every single last thing with my brothers and sisters. I suppose I’ve taken that to the extreme now, but I can’t say I don’t like the life I’ve crafted for myself.
Or at least, if you’d asked me that question four days ago, I would’ve said that.
But now?
Now, as I lay here with Noelle curled up beside me, I think I never want to wake up alone again.
She fits so perfectly here, seamlessly slotting into the mundane parts of my life like this is where she was always meant to be. Just the sight of her right now, bundled up inmyclothes, her legs draped between mine, the soft pinch to her brows as she murmurs in her sleep, and the rise and fall of her chest against mine, fills me with a sense of peace I didn’t even know I was missing. It feels like she’s always been here.
I glance over towards the window just as another gust of wind sends a flurry of snowflakes dancing across the glass. Yesterday the storm outside was powerful enough to make the walls creak, but it’s more of a grumble than a roar today. Less intense.
I sigh, half out of relief that the weather seems to be finally turning, and half out of disappointment that that meansthisis ending soon.
How many more mornings like this do I have left to look forward to?
Noelle twitches in my arms and nuzzles closer to me. Something tight in my chest unfurls a little more. I’ve built walls so high and sturdy around myself that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to let someone in like this.
Her soft breath tickles my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I close my eyes, trying to memorise this moment – the weight of her head on my chest, the way her heart pulses in sync with mine, the steady rhythm of her breathing.
I don’t want to forget any of it. Once this storm is over, the memory of this will be all I have.
I could lie here forever, but reality has an irritating way of bringing you back down to earth when you least expect it.
Noelle’s phone suddenly erupts with all the urgency of a fire alarm, shattering the silence. She stirs immediately, her entire body tensing as she rolls away from me and reaches for her phone, stuffed under the pillow she abandoned for my arm at some point during the night. Not that I’m complaining.
I’d take a thousand dead arms if it meant I got to wake up like this every morning.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbles, eyes barely open as she fumbles with her phone. ‘One sec.’ Her thumb swipes at the screen and she props herself up on one elbow as she holds the phone up to her face.
I roll onto my back, glaring at the ceiling and suddenly feeling like an intruder in my own bed. The warmth we shared is replaced by a cool draught as she moves away, back to her unofficial side.
‘Hello?’ Her voice is groggy but tinged with an underlying excitement I can’t quite place.
There’s another beat of silence and then, for the second time this morning, my bedroom erupts in noise. This time, it’s not the high-pitched ringing of her phone or Noelle’s own groggy greeting, but the sound of several people all excitedly talking at once.
‘Thereshe is!’
‘Still in bed, huh? What time do you call this?’
‘Is that her? Let me see! Let mesee!’
‘Merry Christmas Eve!’
And then, ‘Oh myGod, everyone back up.’
Noelle laughs and sits up in bed, leaning against the headboard. Her face lights up as she beams at the screen. Her smile right now could rival the morning sun, and there’s a light in her eyes that wasn’t there before. The sound of laughter, music and overlapping greetings grates on my ears but none of it seems to faze Noelle.
I glance over in her direction, not wanting to intrude, but my curiosity gets the better of me. There’s a woman in the middle of the screen wearing a lopsided Santa hat and a wide grin. She looks just like Noelle, with wide brown eyesand skin the colour of warm caramel. The resemblance is uncanny, and I realise she must be Noelle’s sister, the one I heard her talking to the other day.
Huddled around her sister are several people I can only assume are family. They’ve all got the same bright smiles, the same deeply expressive eyes, and I can practically feel the warmth and love radiating through the screen. Noelle’s sister waves excitedly, her voice crackling through the phone speakers with a contagious energy.
‘Itoldthem it was too early to call,’ she says with a playful roll of the eyes. ‘But they insisted. Well,sheinsisted.’
‘Because we’re about to start cooking,’ a voice cuts in. Noelle’s sister tilts the camera a little until an older woman is in focus.
‘Hi Gran,’ Noelle says with a soft smile.
‘Look at you, still in bed while we’re all up and about ready to start the festivities!’ Her grandmother tuts playfully, shaking her head in obvious mock disapproval. ‘It’s not the same without you, you know,’ her grandmother continues, and Noelle practically deflates in front of me.
