Slow Dancing

02 | da capo

0 2

d a   c a p o

[Lat.] : (D.C.) From the beginning.

I WAS STILL thinking about my sixteenth birthday on my twentieth. The latter somehow seemed like a far less extravagant affair compared to the first.

I ran through the day's events in my head – money from Dad, bath salts from my best friend Millie, a set of headphones from my other friend Castor, free red-velvet cupcakes drizzled in chocolate from Dink at the local confectionary and a couple of birthday wishes from the neighbours.

That seemed to cover it. I knew I should've been a little disappointed when I compared the past to the present, but I wasn't. My sixteenth birthday seemed incredibly childlike now, like I was a teenage girl grasping for any remnants of her childhood.

Thankfully, I had grown up. One couldn't play out a fairytale for so long. It was time to wake up and smell the roses.

My lips quirked up in a wry smile at how apt that saying was. I was definitely smelling the roses now, especially since I was wheeling a cart-full of roses to put into storage.

Dad was still tending to the last of his customers out front, so I took it upon myself to unload the remaining batch of pots onto the shelves. I arranged the roses by colour – yellows, reds, pinks, dark pinks, whites and so forth – swatting away a stray bee when it buzzed a little too close for my liking.

It didn't take long, or maybe it was the pressing sense of time I felt since Parker was due in less than an hour. When I was done, I ripped off my dirtied gloves and tossed them into the nearby bin. Dad was still handling the cash register when I sauntered up to him.

"You should start getting ready," he said to me, before nodding in thanks to the customer he was currently serving, "or you'll be late."

I grinned and leaned over the counter, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'll be back late and Parker will probably bring me home. Don't wait up."

"Enjoy yourself!" he called after me, and I waved a quick goodbye before heading home.

It took me another ten minutes to shower and scrape the grime out of my fingernails; and another five to brush the tangles out of my hair and do a quick blow-dry. I had just finished my make-up when the familiar knock on the door announced Parker's arrival, followed by the incessant pressing of the doorbell, as if zombies were chasing after him and he needed refuge immediately.

I understood that, as a law student, Parker was all about efficiency and punctuality. But there was a thin line between demanding efficiency and being downright impatient.

Shaking my head, I tied the ends of my bathrobe firmly around my waist and took my own sweet time heading to the front door. When I opened the door, Parker still had a finger pressed against the doorbell and he rung it one more time before smirking.

"Took you long enough."

"A simple hello would suffice," I told him, before pushing the door further open to let him in. Looking at him brought back a wave of nostalgia that I desperately quenched down. "I've missed you," I blurted and smiled.

The expression on his face softened and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me. He smelled of expensive cologne and mint. I drew my arms around him and hugged him tightly, shutting my eyes tightly when he murmured, "I've missed you too. Happy birthday, Isla."

He smiled as he pulled back, but there was something different about him. He seemed troubled and tired. I held up a hand. "Give me ten minutes," I told him and disappeared to my room to change.