Confessions and Cheese

Luke

“Start simple. What do you do for work?” She asked and appeared to hang on to his every word.

The full power of her attention had locked on him. Intense. Like a physical thing. He nearly looked away.

“I monitor the woods. Make sure the trails are clear for anyone visiting. It’s not that exciting.”

He cut his gaze away from her penetrating one, snapping right back to her as she scoffed.

“I beg to differ! That place is massive. Does Storm go with you? You won’t bore me, Luke. Tell me!”

He laughed, a faint pink flush warmed his face as he said, “Alright.”

He stared at her as she lit up like a firework, and her energy infused him as well. The awkwardness lifted enough to make his shoulders relax. His voice rusty from disuse.

As Luke explained his work in the forests surrounding their town and beyond, they slowly worked to bring most of her Christmas chaos into his flat. He often worked on call, preferring the pines’ solitude to an office of backstabbing coworkers. Plus, he could take Storm with him.

The pup joined them the moment she heard her name.

Emilia’s hands vanished into the dog’s fur as they spoke. It felt almost normal. Natural, even. In the quieter moments, their eyes lingered just a little longer. Both searching for answers they might not say aloud.

It was terrifyingly easy to talk to her.

Whenever she interjected, her azure eyes animated as they followed the cadence of her words, as if painting bold pictures with every expressive glance. They were almost magnetic in how they pulled his attention to her.

Conversations that once teetered on the surface now delved deeper. His pulse ran faster than normal. He found himself replying without parsing through his words too carefully.

Something in him had always known it would be like this. Her grin widened the more he shared. She offered plenty in return. 

He learned of her brother. The self-confessed diva who enjoyed manicures and facials more than she did. Her reverent tone as she spoke of her mother made him smile and hope she got to visit her soon.

It was a shame she had to miss out on seeing her friends this year. Her questions never let up. She never let on if his shorter answers bothered her and kept tossing more his way every time he finished talking.

There was no sign of boredom. No glazed eyes. No glancing around for a better option. He couldn’t remember when he’d last engaged in conversation for this length of time. 

Many who knew him never thought of him as chatty. But around her, he was. A tremor ran through his hands, moving with the rise and fall of his voice. She especially seemed to enjoy stories of him and Ariana.

Their childish antics whenever they pranked Layla, making her laugh, and it captivated Luke.

The sound cut through the constant droning in his head like a ray of sunlight breaking free of a shroud of heavy cloud. It held no inhibitions or reservations. Just unadulterated joy bubbling up from within her to warm him through.

She leaned closer and closer. His heart kicked up a marching beat as her floral scent infused his nose.

“Your siblings sound much nicer than my brother! He just likes to torture me,” She said in a breathless tone.

Luke tilted his head, brow arched. “All siblings do. That’s their only job.”

Emilia smiled so wide an ache built in his chest and he felt as though she’d set him aflame somehow. A flame he’d refused to acknowledge for a long time.

He changed the subject to avoid it some more.

“What do you do? You’re always racing out of your house like someone’s chasing you.”

He scratched the back of his neck as she rolled her eyes. She shrugged.

“I work for a soulless corporation. It’s boring most of the time, but it pays the bills!” She joked before launching into a monologue he’d like to assume she’d prepared earlier, but her mind just moved faster than he was used to.

It was as if she was afraid of forgetting something. So she got it all out rapidly. Rarely pausing for breath.

Her work kept her busy. But she detailed little of her days sweet talking new investors and clients to hire the company she worked for. He guessed she preferred to focus on the things she loved to do instead of what she got paid to do.

He understood that better than he’d admit.

His own job suited him. He enjoyed it, but invisible graphite dusted his hands. Fingers itching to capture the dimple flashing in her smile as she treated him to a pleasant interrogation.

He’d never been able to get it quite right.

Her strong, elegant cheekbones softened by her rose blooming cheeks, the faint freckles left over from summer, and the spirited way her eyebrows followed her expressions. All of it loitered, smeared and incomplete, and secreted away around the house.

No matter how he tried, concentrating her ethereal likeness into a simple sketch had always eluded him.

And he never could get the mix of colors in her wicked eyes or painted crimson lips just right. It maddened him. Even now, his hands twitched, eyes narrowing slightly—even on paper, she moved too fast to eternalise. 

“Why did you move away from your family? You sound close.”

Her gentle question jolted him out of his woolgathering head. His pulse skittered. He jolted a bit, and snatched the thread of their conversation tight lest he stare at her like an eejit.

“We are, but I need the ability to escape whenever I want,” he chuckled, blinking at how dark it had gotten.

Neither had noticed the hidden sun had set; darkness slowly laid its cloak over the world, and the snow kicked up a menace outside again.

Time had slipped away like ice melting in July. His knees ached from kneeling on the floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable opening up to someone else.

It was odd, no, liberating. Her rumbling stomach had him rising to his feet. He stifled a chuckle as she raced to follow after him. If she’d been Layla or Ariana, he’d hate this attention.

They only focused their efforts on him when they wanted to create mayhem. Knock him out of his quietness. His belly flipped and his palms dampened as he sensed Emilia close at his back.

All it would take was—no—don’t go there. His hands turned clammy. Heart rattling off his ribs. He was being pulled deeper and deeper into her orbit as they entered the small kitchen.

A shiver laced his spine as a qualm of anxiety sank through the calm in his mind. Temporary.

Remember that. All of this was temporary.

Why did that knowledge slice through him as if someone had broke in and knifed him? Stupid. But it was there.

“Are they that bad? Loud, I mean?” She said as he rummaged in the fridge for something quick to cook.

Unable to look at her while he responded, trying to reel himself back in now she’d thoroughly shaken him. Get a grip. You’ve known her a while. Just act normal. 

“No. I make them sound worse than they are. I just need my space.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She grimaced as he closed the fridge. His stomach sank into his socks as she babbled. 

“And here I am, blithering like an idiot all day and invading your home with my annoying Christmas tree nonsense. Just tell me to shut up. I can’t promise I will, but I’ll try.”

He set down the ingredients he’d plucked from the cooler. He shook his head at her flushed face and overbright eyes.

“You’re not annoyin’ me, Emilia. Far from it. They like to meddle, is all.”

If it were possible, she glowed even brighter, blurring out in his periphery. His breath caught. He busied himself by filling a pot with water before setting it on the stove to boil. He’d done a food shop the night before the blizzard struck.

He had smelled it coming. It was a sharp crispness that hung in the air. He’d known before the weathermen did and had prepared to wait it out.

Panic bought, really. And good job, too. 

Now Emilia was with him, it wouldnt last as long.

She offered to help him and came so close he wanted to step away. A chill running down his back, skin tingling under his clothes as he bit the inside of his cheek. From fear she’d hear the measure of his heartbeat slipping off rhythm as her scent washed over him.

It was an intoxicating blend of fresh flowers, a powdery muskiness with a hint of honey sweetness, and embers burning hot. It wrapped around him and left an indelible mark as they worked together to make dinner.

“Were you taught how to cook, or did you teach yourself?” She asked once she finished grating the Parmesan.

“I knew the basics, but taught myself mostly.”

“Same. Though I still manage to burn water sometimes,” she said, ducking her head as she shook it and smiled.

“Forgetful or impatient?” He already knew the answer. He’d listened to her cursing at her door whenever it took too long to unlock.

But he needed to hear it from her.

“Impatient and easily distracted,” she murmured as he tipped the rotini into the now boiling water.

He dumped a handful of sea salt in with it. She didn’t elaborate; he desperately wanted to know what it took to beguile her.

So much so, he had no time to overthink what came out of his mouth.

“What catches your attention when you should be cooking?”

He slid his eyes to her, waiting her out as she chewed on her plump bottom lip and shrugged again. She wouldn’t meet his eye. Weird.

“I like to watch the world go by. There’s often something interesting to see if you look out the window long enough.”

It was a nonanswer. He opened his mouth, but sensed she didn’t want him to pry. It was the first time she appeared shy—shy. That did not make a lick of sense for her.

She could talk the paint off a wall. A thousand questions and ideas swam in his head. He focused on their meal, realizing too late that he’d never asked her preferences.

“Is this okay? I forgot to ask what you liked.”

Her resplendent smile cleared away the shadow of doubt in his voice before her words broke through the thrumming in his ears. Jesus. He was acting like a teenager with his first crush. 

Madness. It all felt surreal. Like a dream. 

“I don’t mind. I’m not fussy.”

Silence fell, easy and soft, as he made a simple sauce to coat the pasta. It consisted of butter, cream, and cheese, a hefty dose of black pepper which he toasted before adding the butter.

The savory, creamy, and fragrant scent of the pepper filled sauce permeated the air. He stirred until it was smooth. She perched on the edge of the counter, feet kicking the air. Her  gaze jumped from his hands to the steamed window and back again, wholly at ease in his presence.

Something restless paced along his ribcage as he worked. A sense of time running away from him as he tossed the pasta with the sauce and plated hers first, urging her to sit down when she didn’t move.

She was absolutely tiny, but she took the lion’s share of the air in every room.

He reeled and leaned in closer without noticing. The surge of adrenaline running through his blood urging him to close the distance. Unable to inhale deep enough to calm his racing heart.

He fidgeted as she left with Storm haunting her heels. He ignored the shake running through his fingers as he grabbed his plate. Taking a deep, steadying breath before joining her in the living room.

She’d made herself at home, cross-legged on the couch. Storm waited patiently for Emilia to pass her a sneaky bite of food both thought Luke wouldn’t notice.

He hid his laugh with a mouthful of food, chewing slowly and barely tasting it, The TV was on, a bunch of emo men ran around in the dark, calling each other ‘bro’ as she ate.

How the screen’s light gilded her heart-shaped face in wavering shadows mesmerized him. His eyes cataloged it, and stored the visual away. He couldn’t find it in him to care or stress about what came after they parted ways.

Not when she looked so content. He couldn’t even recall eating dinner when he thought about it later.

Her questions resumed once she’d finished and helped him do the dishes. As he passed her things to dry, every brush of their elbows felt more like a lightning strike. The small space between their bodies came alive with a crawling tension that thickened his throat and heightened his awareness of her.

He never shut her down, even though every passing moment further exposed and frayed his nerves. Every second seemed as if it lasted both an eternity and a brief moment of glorious sunshine after a harsh winter.

As they prepared for bed, she asked him something no one else ever had. 

“What would you do if money wasn’t a worry?”

A reel of half-finished etchings, smudged and imperfect, floated across his minds he. Moments in time captured in charcoal or pencil that he showed no one. It helped to relieve the constant pressure in his brain, as it never shut up.

It enjoyed driving him up the bastard wall with what ifs and why nots whenever Emilia grinned at him. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, well oiled by now as he’d spoken more that day than he had in months. But he held it back and shrugged like she had earlier.

“I’m not sure. What about you?”

She shook her head. Her fine-spun, dyed silver hair shimmered as she moved. An irrational impulse to see if it felt as soft as it looked made his hand twitch at his side.

His mouth watered. Her expression was a touch smug as she replied, “I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours. Goodnight, Luke.”

His smile froze on his face as his heart leaped into his throat and lodged there. Beating like a fist as he gulped around it.

The twinkle in her eye was indecipherable. He loosed a long breath. He wasn’t entirely confident he would get through another day with her so close.

Everywhere he turned, there she was.

She was getting braver every time he was around her, pressing in on all sides and forcing him out of his shell.

He worried he’d never fit in it again once she left. Before his thoughts could take him down depressing dark roads, he set a timer on the water heater and left fresh towels in the bathroom.

She mentioned wanting to shower. He didn’t want her to feel awkward about asking in the morning. Had she even brought stuff with her to shower with? Or would she use his? 

Get that idea out of your head, Luke. Don’t be creepy.

He sighed, huffed a short laugh, and settled down for the night. What Christmas Eve would bring, he was almost afraid to consider.

Storm grumbled on the floor beside his couch. It had become his temporary bed. He often thought his dog read his mind and believed him to be an absolute twat of the first order.

He had no rebuttal.

The dog was the only one in the room with any sense.