Different IRL

Chapter 25

He loves me. I love him. It shouldn't make sense that we do. We haven't known each other long. We haven't had enough time to truly learn about each other and "fall" in love. Still, we love each other. It just goes to show love is a funny thing. Especially when it's at first sight.

I'd never say I was a believer in love at first sight until now, despite all the books I like to read. Fiction to be exact. Fiction is fake. That's how I've always remembered the difference between fiction and non-fiction. My life has been full of non-fiction crap, and never enough fiction fantasy. Until now.

I smile sitting at the kitchen table watching Shy cook. Soft music is playing in the background. He wasn't lying. He definitely knows his way around the kitchen. He definitely seems to know how to make Chicken Marsala too. Sipping my wine, my mouth waters with excitement for the recipe and the memories.

Thinking over the entire journey of us, the entire short journey of us, maybe we know each other better than what I give us credit for. For instance, I know that Shy has a bad temper, he seems to like to fight. He's compassionate, a problem solver, super smart, has an eye for art, has an eye for great cars, appreciates architecture, cares about his body, loves his friends, has a great career starting, makes his own rules, doesn't let anything stand in his way and he loves...me. Oh, yeah, and pizza. So, I guess I do know a few things.

I have a feeling he knows just as many things about me that I do about him. How did I get so lucky? My eyes well up as I look around his cozy kitchen. It feels so good to have a place to belong in.

I haven't been alive very long. Just eighteen years, but there's always been this weird feeling of being born into the wrong family. Of living in the wrong house. Until now. Yeah, I'm super lucky to have found my place. Some spend the entirety of their lives looking for this feeling I have right now. There's no way I'm going to let this go as easily as I did. Shame on me.

"What's up?" Shy looks at me with a confused smile.

Crap. A tear escapes. Brushing it away, I take a sip from my glass. "Nothing. Why?"

He wipes his hands on his towel and slings it over his shoulder, sauntering over to me. "Beeecause you're crying. What's wrong?"

My brows furrow and this time, I can't hold back.

"Hey, hey. Luna, shh."

"I almost messed this up," I gesture between him and I.

"Yeah, well, I saved us. It's all good," he laughs.

"Oh! You!" I tickle his sides, but he doesn't flinch. He's not ticklish which isn't fair.

"You really want to go down that road? Because two can play at that game, you know."

I laugh as he turns back to his cooking. Finally, he's starting to plate our dinner. It's about damn time. I really want to say that out loud, but I know he'll attack me so I'll stick to the in my mind phrases. They're much safer.

"This...is Chicken Marsala. Did you take notes so you can make it for me next time?"

"Was I supposed to?" I scrunch my nose. "Oh well. I guess you'll have to always be the one to cook all the meals."

"What?! No way, woman. You will learn how to cook. Yup. You'll cook my meals--breakfast, lunch and dinner--and you'll do it barefoot and pregnant. Then you'll pop out my kids and keep this place spotless at all times."

I really hope he's joking. He busts out laughing probably from the look on my face. 

"Luna, I'm joking. You know I'd never expect any of that out of you."