Every Broken Piece Of You

Twenty-Three

Vicky's Pov

The rest of the evening we spend in bed, kissing and touching and the sex was incredible. Eventually, after a long while we both wore ourselves out and in the most comfortable silence, we lay in each other's arms.

"Is it weird, but it feels like I've known you for a lot longer than just a few hours." I shake my head and bury my face in the pillows. He's gotten to know the more intimate parts of me that my ex-boyfriend took a year and a half to get to know. And he explored it thoroughly. I feel so free to say this, even though I am totally mortified.

He laughs, it a mixture of happiness and nerves, "Yeah, but I feel the same way, especially after all of that." He brushes my hair away and I peek up from the pillow.

"Hey. It's been the best few hours of my life honestly." He tries to comfort me and my subconscious escapes into the air before I can stop it.

"As short as it may be," I mumble and I try to recover, with "young Luke Skywalker" and laugh, but it wasn't funny and it sounds more strangled. He laughs and it sounds more genuine than the last, the sound making the hair raise on the back of my neck.

I could fall in love with that laugh. And my body instantly tenses at the thought. I groan and bury my flaming face further into the bed. Luke gently kisses my shoulder and gets out of bed. I raise an eyebrow while keeping my face deep in my pillow.

"I need to use the bathroom. Are you hungry or something?" And suddenly I realise how much I'm starving.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen," my voice is muffled by the pillow.

I'm thankful for the moment alone as I need to gather my thoughts and my clothes. I pull on my underwear and pick up the pants and shirt from the lounge floor. As I reach the kitchen, lost in thoughts of what just happened, I find Luke's back to me. When he turns around and he's not wearing a shirt, my mouth goes dry.

He's smirking at me, "I think it looks better on you actually." I scrunch my face and when I look down, my face instantly flames when it dawns on me that I grabbed his shirt and put it on, without realising it.

"Oh, um. I didn't mean to... I didn't even..." As I fumble for words.

He smiles, a twinkle in his eyes, "Keep it on, as I said, it looks better on you." He walks over to me with a glass of water in his hand and kisses the top of my head.

The small gesture of affection makes my heart swell even more and the feeling makes me uncomfortable. The pending doom of what is to come, when he leaves for tour creeps back in and I need to get away from him.

"What do you want to eat?" I move to the fridge and look for food. My body instantly missing his touch. This can't be happening.

"I could make lasagna or something?" I suggest, knowing that it'll keep me busier than offering him something simple. He regards me coolly but keeps quiet. When I open the cupboard and pull out a pan, I expect him to say something, but still silence.

"Or..." I draw out the word, "Would you want chicken or I guess we could order in." I stop when he shakes his head.

"Allow me," he says as he takes the pan out of my hand.

I sit at the island and watch as he cuts the onions and slices the tomatoes. He refuses my help and only allows me to tell him where the items he's looking for are. The silence is broken by one-word questions and answers and I sit with my cold coffee in front of me.

I am mesmerised by the way he moves around the kitchen, the task seemingly normal for us. Maybe I should go shower, but I don't want to leave him alone. Before I can make up my mind, he takes the seat next to me.