Untimely Love (Book 3)

♠Chapter 9♠

Never go through nostalgic photos on rainy days. I decided to break in my new projector by doing just that and it has done the opposite of making me feel better. There was a thunderstorm raging too and I couldn't say where it was most dangerous—outside, in my head or in my chest.

I could've chosen to watch something or print out more photos (I have dozens), hell I could've started on a mini project I had due a month from now. I chose this though. Just to solidify something I've been thinking over since Nate and I got back in New York late last night. A farewell of sorts.

I hardly slept and when I gave up and got out of bed I decided to clean every corner of the apartment that didn't even need cleaning and set up some equipment in my red room. I even put my bookshelf together—all three, four-to-ceiling one of them that's now pushed against the vacant wall to my left [a few feet from my TV] and stacked with a good three hundred books that were still in boxes up until a few hours ago.

By the time I finished all that and ate it was four p.m. It had gone from cloudy to dark as night as the first round of lighting and thunder started before the rain. It seemed fitting that I torture myself this way. I'd drawn the beige curtains against the wall-length windows and started my trip down memory lane.

They weren't old photos, but some of them were a year old. The most recent ones were just a few months. Photos of the countless arcade and beach trips, random ones at Starbucks or school, prom, graduation. Photos of her.

Anything else would be better than staring at photos of her. Still, I chose this.

It didn't matter, there weren't many photos without her anyway so there was no running from it.

I tilted my head back against the arm of the couch where I sat on the floor, staring unblinkingly at the display that gazed back at me. It was hard to believe it's been months. A lot has changed and not in the way I thought it would.

We were in my room. That day was almost as gloomy as today, but our energy was unmatched. The memory played perfectly in my head like it happened every day since.

We were happy, doing too much of a great job at sneaking around. We were supposed to feel guilty about lying to our moms, hiding from our friends. But when you're that happy, that... content, in a dim room with orange lights and the heavens crashing against the roof, all around you but never touching you, there was nothing to feel other than bliss. Especially when it was us. Eventually, we stopped feeling guilty because all we wanted was each other. Our company, our time, just being in the same space.

That was what I wanted anyway.

I breathed deeply, watching her, haunting and beautiful.

She sat on my lap on the edge of my bed, her back against my chest, I could almost feel her hands on the sides of my thighs. My fingers twitched. I curled my hands into fists against my stomach. Her smile was wide and her head tilted into my neck while I held the camera up to my face, only a grin visible.

I remember telling her she was beautiful. Because she was. She is.

I closed my eyes, groaning. What the hell am I doing?

"How are you supposed to get over this if you sit around reminiscing?" I muttered. I scrubbed my hand over my eyes.

I won't lie to myself though. I could try to get over it—get over her. But I didn't want to. There's no reason not to, but... I didn't want to. I wasn't ready and maybe one day I'll wake up and realize that I'm great but until then, it's whatever.

"I miss you." My whisper was hoarse and too loud above the rain.

Those words never left my mouth in the past three months. I even stopped myself from thinking them. Now that they were finally out there in the open, I felt like I wasn't alone—like someone was going to jump out and bust me. Still, something inside me wanted those three words to carry to her. I wished she'd heard them where she was right then because I don't think I'll ever tell her in person. Not after everything.