Page 57 of Then Came You

After her visit, I feel fatigued from being in a state of limbo with Blade. We haven’t crossed any lines, but the palpable tension when we’re in the room together is reaching fever pitch. Ignoring that whole problem, I choose to take a nap, waking up God knows how long later.

Yawning and acclimating myself to my surroundings, I can see it’s dusk outside. The sky is a pretty swirl of summer-coloured fruits, framing our iconic Harbour Bridge in the near distance. It's a perfect winter’s day.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” I curl into the pillow, staring at Blade, who’s now sitting in the same chair Cin was earlier, except he looks ethereal in it. Like he belongs on top. He’s out of his work attire and comfy in grey three-quarter tracksuit pants and a white shirt. I love how the extremely boring colours make his tattoos pop even more, reminding me of what a work of art he is.

He’s delicious…and so is the rooster in his pants.

The swell of his size is teasing me behind the fabric of his trackies. What a sight to wake up to.

“Hi, you,” I hum, cosy and dozy under a thick cream woollen blanket I don’t remember covering myself with.

I stretch my legs before bringing them back into a foetal position and cuddle my hands under the pillow.

“You’ve been asleep for ages. Are you feeling okay?” The lights are dimmed, and his voice is gentle.

“Better each day,” I assure. “Were you just watching me, like a giant big creep?” He’s amused by my accurate assessment.

“Yep. It’s easier to read boring journals when I have something as pretty as you to look at.” His friendly flattery warms my insides. “Wanna explain what the fuck I’m looking at?” He’s holding the callous gift from earlier.

“Oh, don’t you know I’m a charity case? Cindy thought it was her duty to give you $1,000 for all the trouble I’ve been, along with an application form for housing so I’m not burdening you or your son. Super thoughtful, right?” I joke sarcastically, but looking at Blade’s nostrils flaring, he’s not finding any of this remotely entertaining.

Paper crunches in his fist as he crushes the papers into a ball. “It’s wrong on so many levels and highly offensive.”

“We should do something fun with it,” I suggest. This turns his mood around because he smirks a beautiful grin. Gah, his stubble is just the scratch I long for to soothe my itch.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I can’t help it.

He leans forward as if he’s all ears.

“Like what, my little Tinker Bell?”

“Seaplane to Jonah’s Restaurant for lunch? Helicopter ride over Sydney? Hot air ballooning in the Hunter Valley?” I list all the ritzy things I can think of.

He gazes straight at my face, silent in thought. I’d kill to know what’s on his mind right now.

“I would rather donate it to the Leukaemia Foundation or Make a Wish Foundation.”

This is why I love him.

I haven’t told him, and I probably never will.

He’s not real.

He can’t be.

He’s too…everything.

My heart palpitates at his ever-giving thoughtful nature.

If it’s even possible, I fall for him a little more.

I almost choke on my words. “Sounds perfect.” My eyelashes flutter downward, breaking this magnetic spell we both seem to be under.

We happily sit in silence, staring at the final minutes of today’s sun. When I twist a certain way, I flinch, a sharp sting bolting through my shoulder blades.

He notices. “You okay?” he asks, hunching forward on the chair.

“My neck and back are killing me,” I confess. I know I’ve brought it on myself with the lack of exercise or general movement over the last few weeks.

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