Connected

He chuckles as I walk away.

 

As I sit down at the head of the bed, I cover my legs with my shirt and wrap my hands around my knees. “Okay is this less distracting?” I smirk, resting my chin on my knees.

 

“Not really,” he laughs.

 

“Well it’s irrelevant anyway since you promised a show.”

 

Shaking his head at me, he’s so fucking attractive as he struts and sits at the foot of the bed. “I don’t remember promising,” he smirks. Then adds, “That’s a whole other type of transaction.”

 

I smile at him and laugh. “I’m willing to pay,” I wink before adding, “As long as the show lives up to my expectations.”

 

He softly smiles at me and says, “I hope it does.”

 

Placing his guitar on his leg, he positions one arm around the neck and his other over the body. “This is something I wrote this morning for you. It’s called Five.”

 

He begins to strum the same beautiful melody I heard earlier. I stare, mesmerized by his soulfulness. As he plays, the chords come to life with his concentration and intensity.

 

He sings the first two lines of the song and I listen.

 

 

 

 

 

5 years, 260 weeks, 1,825 days, 2.3 million minutes. That was how long ago I met you.

 

 

 

 

 

His lyrics immediately resonate in my heart. I can feel my heart growing, accepting him as the one who belongs there, the one who is meant to hold it.

 

As he sings, he slips further into his music.

 

 

 

 

 

If I did it all again. Would you come along for the ride? I hope so.

 

If I did it all again. Could you play this game with me? I hope so.

 

 

 

 

 

Tears are stinging my eyes as I unfold my arms from my legs. He continues to sing, lost in his own music, and I continue to watch, lost in him, in awe of him. Perhaps, in love with him?

 

 

 

 

 

And 5 years, 260 weeks, 1,825 days, 2.3 million minutes from today, will we still be together? I hope so.

 

Because I love you. Do you believe we will still be together? I hope so.

 

Because I really love you. Do you know so?

 

 

 

 

 

Shaking with joy and needing to touch him, to wrap myself around him, to show him I feel the same way, I crawl down the bed as he sings his last line.

 

 

 

 

 

Now you do—I love my beautiful girl.

 

 

 

 

 

Swallowing back the tears, I’m overcome with emotion. He wrote me a love song to tell me how he feels. Sitting beside him at the foot of the bed, I’m rendered speechless for a moment. The tears that have been welling in my eyes begin to slide down my cheeks as he sets his guitar gently on the floor.

 

As I open my mouth to speak, without knowing exactly what I’m going to say, he reaches over and gently cups my face in his hands. He brushes my tears away with his thumbs. He leans in, his lips practically touching mine. “Shhh . . .You don’t have to say anything. I’m not expecting you to say anything. I just want you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

 

I kiss him, snaking my arms around his neck as he shifts on the bed to welcome me. When he whispers in my ear, “Dahlia, I love everything about you. I know in my heart you’re my girl, so amazing, so fun, so beautiful.” I feel my heart pounding and I know it’s about to jump out of my chest. Turning my head, I look into his eyes. The same gleaming green eyes as the first time I saw him. I thought then what I know now, that if I jump in I will never swim out. They are telling me he’s my future.

 

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