Will & Rosie

Chapter Three

🌹Rosie🌹

With the setting sun caressing my face and the smell of sunflowers wafting up my nose, I continued my way up the steep path and momentarily bitched at my Dad for being situated so far up the hill.

"I bet you're loving this, old man," I quietly mused, breathless by all accounts.

Note to self; visit the gym.

I proceeded to round the corner and upon finally coming in to view of Dad's grave, stopped dead in my tracks. Slumped pathetically against the headstone was none other than Will O'Connor, guitar in hand, humming along to an unrecognisable tune. Majority of his face was covered by a baseball cap and although a clear attempt at a disguise, his efforts were fruitless. That distinguishable body of his was a huge giveaway and don't even get me started on his rubbish stab at subtlety. He was a rock star trying to hide, for goodness sake. You'd think he'd leave the guitar at home.

"I don't know if anyone's ever told you but a baseball cap actually draws more attention to the owner," I stated, casually floating towards Dad.

The brooding rock star obviously hadn't been expecting me and his sudden need to stand just about confirmed it. He nervously glanced at me, to the headstone, then back to me; all within a two second timeframe. His shaking hands hinted towards his inner turmoil and honestly, I'd never seen a person freak out so much.

"I sh-should leave you to it. S-sorry."

"Don't leave on my account," I replied, removing the cellophane from Dad's flowers. "I'm just passing through."

He looked at me as though I'd grown two heads and truthfully speaking, I wasn't at all surprised.

"Okay, that was a lie. I purposely made the trip but seriously, sit down before you fall down," I encouraged, not liking his sudden sway.

My reference to him fainting must've knocked some sense into him, for next to happen was his bottom hitting the ground so hard, I almost said ouch myself. He stared at me through uncertain eyes; each once framed with long, dark lashes and casting a light shadow across his cheeks. His hair fell longer than usual and although dark, the nearing sun lit up his natural highlights, proudly so. His pearly white teeth worried that bottom lip out of habit again and if he didn't ease up on it soon, I suspected he'd draw actual blood.

"This is my first time coming. I figured I'd go unseen this time of night," he suddenly declared, breaking through the awkward silence.

His voice was gruff and took on a rather strained element; something I couldn't imagine being good for his singing career.

"Might wanna ditch the guitar. It's kind of a big give away," I replied, offering some sound advice.

I took my own seated position at the opposite side of the grave, though made sure to open myself up as far as conversation went. For some reason, I wanted him to think I was approachable.

"Good shout," he smiled, caressing his beloved instrument. "How you doing? You okay?" he then asked, genuinely concerned.

I busied myself with the flowers.

"Fine." Lie. "Could you pass me that, please?" I questioned, gesturing towards the plant holder.

"Sure."

He obliged, no questions asked.

"How about you? You okay?" I continued, returning the polite gesture out of obligation.

He stared at me a moment, chewing that bottom lip again.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm okay?" he dumbfounded. "Shouldn't you be hitting me with the plant pot, rather than accepting it from me?" he chuckled, though did so rather weakly.