Secrets Between Us.

- Chapter 3 -

THE wind feels good in my hair as I whip through the alleyway.

My heart was racing but not because I was on my bike.

My heart was racing because I knew that each second that trickled by meant that I was getting closer, and closer to you. This contraption propelled me towards you and the surge of adrenaline powered my legs and my beating heart. I could kiss and make love to the brainchild who had invented such a marvellous thing.

Time is a precarious yet wonderous thing.

Many grains in the hourglass had fallen since our first meeting this morning but your smile was etched into my mind and your scent lingered in my nose. I will admit – there was a time this afternoon that I thought I could smell your sweet, sweet fragrance. But, I was rudely mistaken as I turned around in anticipation and noticed that you weren't anywhere to be seen.

It was all just a figment of my imagination, but this isn't.

The cool air on my cheeks is real.

The wind in my hair as I dart around corners is real.

You're real.

Turning onto your street, I pull on the brake levers and come to a halt. I lean the bike against a streetlight and stride down the pavement just a little bit as I count down the street numbers.

This is it.

This is your home. And it was everything that I expected it be to.

Colourful flowers bloom in the planter boxes and the hedges that border the sidewalk have been trimmed back. The pointed edges are so level that I can tell that your gardener is quite particular and perhaps, obsessive compulsive. Or maybe they are just garden proud?

I'm sure I will find out as we begin our lives together.

I spy a nearby bench and sit to one side. I gaze at the windows on the first floor and whilst the curtains were pulled open, you were nowhere to be seen. But that's okay. I can wait. I know you will be home tonight. That is the beauty of social media and being so entrenched in this intricate online web we have crafted for ourselves.

You can see all. You can know all.

I pull my phone out from my pocket and navigate to your profile. You posted a photo just over half-an-hour ago saying that you had a much-needed catchup with your friends and that it was long overdue.

The photo stops my heart and I feel my muscles weaken at the sight of you.

Your dark hair shines in the light of the restaurant, and your smile could lighten even the darkest of rooms. Your curls look flawless as they are swept around and sit on your shoulder, and I feel myself get lost in the depths of your beautiful, brown eyes.

Whilst your friends have their arms around you, I only have eyes for you. They pale in comparison to your beauty and are – quite frankly – overwhelmingly ordinary. The copious amounts of makeup and the soulless eyes are not a good look and not attractive in the slightest. It's like putting lipstick on a pig.

It is still a pig.

You can do so much better.

I will make you see that.

I hear the faint sound of shoes striking on pavement and I look up from your darling photo. You are there, walking towards me, in the distance but...

Hello.

What is this?

My stomach flips and my nostrils flare. I feel the acid work its way up my throat as I struggle to calm the rabid beating of my heart. This isn't right.

In fact, it's terribly wrong. What drove you to do such a careless thing?

You smile as the shmuck from the café curls an arm around you as you amble towards the door of your house. His hair is skewed to the side and his mouth moves as he whispers in your ear. Your lips open and I can hear the music of your laughter caress my ears as it drifts through the evening air.

You didn't show this in the photo.

I see you stumble as you make your way up the step and fumble with your bag and rummage until you find the keys.

As fast are you were to enter my evening, you were taken away from me just as quickly. You and the idiot disappear as the door slams shut behind you.

He. Is. Wrong. For. You.

So completely wrong.

My mind barely has the time to process the atrocities committed this evening when my attention is snatched by the light that had just flickered to life on the first floor. I watch on.

Waiting.

I have gotten rather good at waiting, if I must say so myself. All those days in the coffee shop being bombarded with the menial and pathetic trivialities of those strangers' lives. But that's ok. You learn to block out their droning and nonsensical whining.

You appear in the window and I can feel a sudden flood of energy flow through me as you shrug out of your bra and become exposed for all to see. You twirl in a drunken and sort of cute way and fall on to the bed with your arms splayed and the tips of your toes barely scraping the carpet.

It is not long until the barista steps between your legs with not a single piece of clothing in sight and pins your arms over your head.

I pull my gaze away from the window as venom and hatred channel through my veins. I try to draw a deep breath but it does nothing – it was a useless try and did nothing to steady my rampant thoughts or my palpable frustration.

That boy is like a persistent virus. He manages to worm his way into peoples lives and once he's in, there is almost nothing you can do to remove him apart from hitting the reset button and cutting him out entirely. I am a little bit disappointed that you don't seem to notice the obvious fact that he's a schmoozer and will probably end up in someone else bed after. He will be bathed in different scents, only to brag about it to his colleagues the very next day as he draws that disgusting heart on the cups.

You need to treat yourself better. You deserve better.

You deserve someone who would treat you the right way; who would give you everything you deserved and would be the perfect man to compliment your life.

I can be that man, Autumn.

That man is not the cretin who you are screwing in front of the public right at this very moment.

I watch as the breeze rustles the canopies of the overhead trees. They dance to the silent rhythm and sway in time with each other. Leaves drift to the sidewalk as if they were brown flakes of snow and a songbird sings to the heavens.

A car moves lazily down the road and stops in front of your house, the red brake lights blazing in the impending darkness.

A door slams, and I see the barista waltz to the awaiting vehicle as he lulls in the act of debauchery he had just committed. He opens the door and slips into the seat as he closes the door behind him.

I stand up from my bench as I come to the understanding of what must be done.

Like all viruses that plague the world as a pestilence, this one too must be eradicated. And whilst it may throw you into a bit of a tailspin and you may cry from the pain, I will be there to hold you and make you realise that the world had just become a better place.