Something Just Like This || [ON HOLD]

6 April 2017 | 👙

A SHOWS UP later than he did yesterday, and this time the sound of the metal rebounding from his step doesn't frighten me. He shoots me a smile, raising his healthy arm to wave as he approaches me, and I quickly scroll to a blank page in the document I'm working on.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asks.

"No," I say, offering him a smile. "Go for it."

A slips off his bag, placing it next to him as he sits down a foot or so away from me. As he does so, I catch a glimpse of the stitching on the back of his sweater. After two days of trying to remember, I feel like I've just finished a thousand piece puzzle when I see the name Acheson printed in neat white lettering.

"I'm Graham by the way," he introduces himself, that priceless smile returning to his face.

"April," I say, meeting his brown eyes.

Graham's eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips twitch, the smallest of spaces forming between the two pink patches before he presses them together again.

Guessing what's going through his head, I elaborate, "My parents named me after my birth month."

He nods. "It's a pretty name."

"I like it," I admit. "But everyone always asks if I'm born in April."

"To be fair," Graham starts, a sheepish smile stretching across his face, "I was wondering that."

"You're definitely not the first," I inform him, unable to hold back the laugh forming in my chest.

"Well, knowing that makes me feel less like a stalker," he says, sending me a wink.

"I'm still not convinced," I tease, earning a laugh from Graham.

"If it helps my case at all, mine's in November."

"A little," I acquiesce. "But, if you don't mind my asking, why do you come here every day if you can't swim?"

"Before my accident, I used to come everyday with my friend to do lanes. We started back in January, and agreed we'd help each other stick to the routine." Graham twists slightly so I can see his cast. "Then this happened. But I still come everyday to make sure my friend, Mr. Lazy-pants, sticks to our deal."

"I'm glad to hear it's not just to torture yourself."

"No," Graham confirms, pink lips twisting into a smirk.

I lower my gaze to his cast. "What exactly happened to your arm?"

"Skiing accident. I spent the weekend in Banff with some friends and thought it'd be a good idea to try some advanced jumps," he says.

"Not so good?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"No," he agrees. "I mean, the jumps were fun. Until I wiped out."

"Was it worth it at least?" I meet Graham's brown-eyed gaze, searching his eyes for an answer. I can see the joy in them before he opens his mouth to speak.

"It was. Hands down, I'd risk my life again to feel like an Olympic champ."

Shaking my head, I let a smile graze my lips. When my gaze lands on the silver laptop perched perilously on my lap, Graham speaks up.

"Working on a paper?"

"No," I say, closing my laptop and placing it next to me. "Just some creative writing. I like to write sometimes. For fun."

"What do you like to write?"

Meeting Graham's curious gaze, I get the sense he's actually interested. "Mainly fiction. Teen fiction," I elaborate. "I like writing for fun, but I also like to think that maybe what I have to say will help others one day. If I ever decide to share it."

Graham nods, his smile returning. "Any chance you'll share what you're writing now."

"No, probably not," I admit.

Graham feigns disappointment, releasing an exaggerated sigh.

"It's probably not your genre anyway," I add.

"Are you kidding? I love teen fiction. I've read all of Sarah Dessen's books at least twice."

I raise an eyebrow, shocked he even knows the YA author's name.

Graham laughs at my expression. "I have a younger sister. She read a lot growing up, and Dessen was one of her favourite contemporary authors."

"That makes more sense."

"She actually likes to write too. Posts her work online— I forget the name of the website now. But she's never let me read any of her stuff."

"Poor you," I say, putting on a sad expression. "If I'd known you've been deprived of glimpsing into the inner working of adolescent girls' minds your entire life...." I trail off, tucking an errant curl behind my ear.

"It's not too late— your laptop's right over there."

"Not happening," I state, reaching over and tucking it away in my backpack.

"Really?"

"Yep."

Graham sighs. "Well, looks like I'll just have to wait until I have a teenage daughter."