Wayfaring Traveler

eight

「 PSA: All songs inserted in chapters are part of the Spotify playlist you can find in the first section of the book 」

e i g h t

Perhaps it was premature for me to be in love with Francesca, however, I was. My feelings for her were no longer laced with simple infatuation or lust. I loved her.

It was Saturday, the day she promised would be our first date. I heard three soft knocks on my motel room door, indicating she had arrived at my temporary residence within the city.

I opened the door to see her with a little smile and a knee-length white floral lace dress with nude colored heels. The dress made her look more angelic than usual, if even possible. The way she looked when I opened the door was a moment itself, it was a moment I would never forget.

"You look beautiful," I told her immediately, she smiled a bit more following my truthful statement.

I exited my room and I led her down the stairway, offering a hand to her so she wouldn't fall. She took my gesture and held onto my hand as if her life depended on it.

Once we made it down to the sidewalk next to the busy streets of Seattle she intertwined her left arm around my right. We looked like a couple straight out of a movie, in love and graceful.

"Where are you taking me?" she inquired when I stopped walking after five minutes.

I simply looked down at her and gave a smile, smiles coming easy when graced with her presence.

"To the place I first met you," I replied, myself preparing a special table for us at Travelers.

I opened the door for her and led her to the back area we both were very familiar with. I twisted the doorknob that led to the upstairs loft, rose petals lining the stairs up.

"Ezra," she said softly in awe.

We walked upstairs together and her eyes went directly towards the table set up upstairs. I had set up a few tea lights and flowers on the table, string lights lining the walls of the loft. On top of the tables were two plates of pasta and salad, water set to the side of wine glasses. I assumed alcohol wasn't something she wished to be around and let the conversation be the only thing she could be drunk on. Music was playing softly in order to improve the ambiance of it all, a playlist comprising of songs she was said to adore enveloping the no longer drafty space.

I pulled out her chair for her and she sat, I followed her action and sat myself down. Our eyes never seemed to break contact as if a spell had been cast over us, one straight from a fairytale of princes and princesses.

"I hope you like pasta," I said, nothing more substantial of conversation possible for me at the time.

She laughed a little. "Love it."

She picked up a fork and twisted the pasta slowly, stopping after a while. Her expression displayed that she had become extremely puzzled and needed to say something that had been on her mind.

She cocked her head to the side. "Ezra?"

I stopped eating too and gave her my undivided attention.

"I don't want you to be a rebound, you don't deserve to be a rebound," she said, a newfound glimpse of sadness in her eyes.

I stayed silent, wanting her to further express her feelings. If listening reassured her I would listen to her forever.

"I just got out of a relationship and it may just be too soon for me to cope with a new one. You are truly one in a million and deserve an eternity of happiness, however, I don't know if I'm the girl that can give you what you deserve," she explained, her words coming out fluidly and without any pauses.

I extended my hand across the table and placed it over one of hers, her hand tense.

"Francesca, we can take it slow. I am more than willing to take it slow if that means getting to be around you. If it takes you weeks to call me back for a second date, so be it. If it takes you months to finally kiss me, so be it. If it takes you years to fall for me, so be it. I will wait a lifetime for you, I will take it as slow as you need. I want to prove to be more than just a simple rebound because you deserve someone who cares about you as much as I do," I replied, showing all signs of honesty by the way I spoke.

I had never managed to speak so eloquently, I had never been open in my entire life. However, for Francesca, I would do it all.

Her hand softened and she exhaled a large breath. She smiled at me, a genuine Francesca Scottsdale smile. Her mouth said nothing, but her eyes said everything. I could tell that she trusted me with her heart and I was honored to have the opportunity of getting to love her.

The rest of dinner was mostly silent, our breaths the only thing apparent in the loft. It was twenty minutes later when we both finished, my right hand still over her left. After a while, she moved her hand away from mine and turned in her seat. She slowly took off her heels and stood up, I too stood up. I led her away from the table and into my arms, it seemed as if she fit quite perfectly in them. She placed her head on my shoulder and I led her in dance this time as an amateur dancer wanting to sweep a beautiful girl off of her feet.

We swayed around the loft until swaying wasn't enough for us. She moved away a little from me and I kept my hands firmly on her waist, not ready for the night to end or ready to let her go.

"I am lucky to have met someone like you, Ezra," she stated her eyes looking not at my eyes, but at my lips.

She stood there staring and all I could do was remain silent, I narrowed the gap between the two of us and pulled her in closer to me, taking it slow perhaps not for us after all. Intimacy was the only thing vital to us at the moment. She gave a small smile and I smiled back at her, completely closing the gap between our lips.

And I kissed her and kissed her.