Walking After You | Dave Grohl

seven

7

NESSA WAS WOKEN up by the sweet sound of birds chirping outside. She yawned, stretching her legs and arms and contently humming with the satisfaction of a good night of sleep.

While doing so, she felt the weight of Dave's arm draped over her stomach, his hand loosely resting around her hip bone. Nessa smiled softly when she found him still deep asleep, with parted lips and a mess of hair falling over his face.

It wasn't a dream, she thought to herself. It hadn't been a product of her lonely imagination. Dave was actually there, peacefully sleeping next to her. And as much as it was strange to admit, Nessa felt different.

How could a boy she hardly knew when they were both teenagers still have so much effect over her, especially after four years of no substantial contact between the two of them?

And worse, how could it be that this boy, who was rapidly becoming a world known artist and had seen more of the world than she could ever hope to experience, still cared enough to write to her?

Nessa smiled after sighing softly. The feeling of his lips still lingered on hers as if the kiss from the night before had just happened, and she swore she could almost taste him. Dave tasted like peppermint gum and cigarettes in a mix that became addictive from the first taste, even though it shouldn't work.

However, it wasn't just the kiss on her mind that morning. It was also the way Dave kept her close after their lips parted, and the way she could feel him smiling in the darkness of the bedroom. Dave had embraced her, running his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep in his arms.

She had never been kissed like that. In fact, no one had ever kissed her apart from him. One could say that was sad for a twenty two year old woman, but it really wasn't a big deal for Nessa. She had never felt truly ready enough to let someone in, but things were strangely different and easy with Dave.

When it came to him, all it took was his presence. As soon as her head hit the pillow beside him and he touched her skin, she made peace with her insecurities and let go, enjoying the fact that he was there.

Before she could dwell even deeper on her thoughts, Nessa wiggled herself out of his grip, moving slowly to not disturb his sleep, but as soon as she got up from the bed she felt oddly cold.

Putting on a fuzzy cardigan over her nightdress, she made her way to the kitchen, still trying to rub the sleep away from her eyes. Thank goodness it was Saturday, because that meant no in-person work for her, only a few papers to grade.

After turning on the radio at a low volume so that she could listen to the early morning news, Nessa got started on breakfast, battling internally on whether she should cook her typical eggs and bacon, or if she should try something a little more fancy, like chocolate chip pancakes.

"Fuck it," she mumbled to herself, opting on doing both.

The scent of something burning caught Nessa's attention a few minutes later. Moving abruptly towards the stove, where her bacon was turning black, the glass she was holding slipped from her hand and into the sink, shattering upon impact, one of the pieces slicing into the flesh of her wrist when she attempted to catch it.

"Ouch," she winced, holding her injured hand to her chest while hissing in pain. Nessa hated blood, so when the first warm red drops came into her vision, she immediately felt lightheaded.