Oh my god. I'm officially depressed. I had an awesome start. An awesome start. And then something happened. And it's gone. Just gone. *sobs into a pillow*
So, I just wanted to say you guys are too good to me. 10 reviews on one chapter in 24 hours? I really, really appreciate it. I do. You're amazing.
But I would like to know what make the last chapter so "perfect" because I was largely unimpressed by my own work and several people commented as such... So, share?
Hannah xx
I didn't understand the bubbling feeling that was swelling through my cells, attempting to reach and warm the icy depths of my heart at his words. It was a dull throbbing that traveled from my brain through my veins to my lungs, buzzing under my skin to my stomach and then electrifying my very bones and making me want so desperately to do something: kiss him or better yet whisper a near silent agreement.
Instead I stared unseeingly at the TV over his shoulder. The feeling was consuming me, rising up, fighting it's way to the surface as my vision blurred, being clouded by my own feelings.
"Yacker?" He asked in a quiet voice. Suddenly, he was unsure of himself, and that broke my heart, but what could I do?
Suddenly, my body lurched forward and I vomited right there on the floor.
They said it was food poisoning that kept me in bed for the next two days and maybe it was, but my stomach didn't stop turning after his words. Whenever he came in to check on me, I'd pretend to be asleep.
So, after two days, I gave up hiding. At that point I was too hungry to sleep, so I got up Thursday morning and found his mom gone already. His door was closed so I quickly slipped into the kitchen in my pajamas. I turned the iPod on my phone on, sticking the ear buds in and letting my rock music play to drown out the chorus of his words that'd been replaying in my head for the past two days.
In attempt to make up for my freak out, I made a nice breakfast and set the table. I sat down, drumming my fingers against the wood table and waiting for him to get up.
After a few minutes, I heard his heavy early morning foot falls through the house and then I saw him groggily walk through the kitchen door. His hair was tousled from sleep and he was only wearing a pair of pajama pants as he walked automatically toward the fridge. After a moment of riffling through the fridge and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he turned slowly to look at me, suddenly aware of my presence.
"Yacker." He murmured, frowning a bit as he walked toward me. "How do you feel?"
I smiled weakly back, slipping my arms around my neck. "Better."
He smirked just a bit. "Feeling nauseous at all?" He asked her, half joking.
I laughed shakily. "Nope." I nodded toward the table. "I made breakfast."
He smiled, sitting beside me at the table. "Thanks, Yacker."
I watched him as we ate and I could feel him watching me as well. We were both on edge and I could tell he was pretending he'd never said it. Part of me recognized that the subject wasn't closed though. I could see it in his eyes, the lingering question.
That's what scared me, I didn't know how to answer.
GAH. I'm sorry.
Hannah xx
