Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I loved the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and intoxicating scent of spices and wood. It was like being inside a gorgeous dream.
I could have stayed like that forever, but my phone began to ring. My first thought was to ignore it, but what if it was mother? What if something had happened at home? I quickly peeled myself from him and hurried over to get my phone from my purse.
Just as I found the phone, it died on me. “Damn.” I took my phone with me and returned to the couch. I knew Caleb had an i-Phone too. “Caleb, my battery is out of juice. Can I use your charger?”
He was in the kitchen, pouring a bag of popcorn kernels into the microwave to be popped. “Sure. It’s in my bedroom. Just go up the stairs, first room on the right. You’ll find it on my nightstand.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my heart warming all over again. Ever since I had got here he’d done all he could to ensure I felt at home in is house. And even though I knew that it wasn’t the case, it was almost too easy to believe that this was my house too. I’d even caught myself earlier on rearranging items on the shelves of his refrigerator door, and bagging all his leeks, and putting them neatly in the vegetable drawer.
I passed the staircase, lined with art, but no pictures of his family, and thought back to the account he had given me about his mother. After what he said about her I hadn’t had the backbone to ask about his father. Someday when we’re closer and when he was comfortable enough to trust me, maybe he would tell me himself.
Caleb seemed like the kind who bottled everything inside and stayed aloof. I wanted him to express himself, to reveal himself to me, but I was patient. I wasn’t going anywhere. I could wait as long as it took.
I arrived at his bedroom and walked in. It was decorated in the same neutral tones as the rest of the house. It was somewhat soothing to me, but it was completely without personality, the way expensive homes usually are. Not a thing out of place, everything color coordinated to death. Soulless but so what, it was Instagram worthy.
Only one side of the bed was slightly rumpled, and it made me smile. It was kind of a small confirmation that I was the only one he had eyes for. At least, at the moment.
I didn’t find his charger where he said it’d be, so I pulled the drawer open, hoping that it would be there, and to my relief it actually was. I rose with it and was just about to turn away when I realized that amongst the odds and ends, was something that looked somewhat familiar.
That made me stop.
Why would anything in his room look familiar to me? I’d never been here before. Almost in a daze, I leaned down and reached in, and pulled out a bright pink watch. I stared at it. I had never seen it in my life, and yet for a moment there, something had tugged at me. Not a whole memory, but the scent of one.
I wondered why he would have something that should belong to a little girl. Did he have a little sister or cousin?
I glanced at the door and back at the watch. I turned the watch around and something struck me.
At first it was just a light pressure in my chest, then tears filled my eyes. I reached up in awe to touch them as they rolled down my face. It was the strangest thing. What the hell was affecting me in this way? I looked again at the watch in my hands and something flashed in my mind.
A memory had escaped from the impenetrable fog.
I felt my knees buckle as I collapsed to the ground to a crouched position.
I had never ever had a memory return like this. Yes, little fragments in my dreams that I couldn’t piece together when I awakened. Never like this, when I was fully awake and conscious, and never with such vividness and clarity.
I was in an unkempt backyard and I had a red water balloon in my hand. I was running, my high pitched little voice was filled with excitement and laughter. I was chasing someone, so I couldn’t see his face. I threw the balloon at him and it hit his back, and exploded, drenching him.
“I’ve won,” I was screaming. “I’ve won.” But my words were cut short by a balloon hitting me right on my chest. It took my breath away.
A woman’s gruff voice said, “Don’t let him off that easily, hon. There’s more balloons right here.”
Then the fog that had lifted, allowing that one memory through, closed in on me again.