Chapter 7 #2
I smiled, feeling his presence lingering in the doorway. My eyes drifted upwards, taking in his grungy clothes—the loose pants, the tee harboring a band that I’d never heard of—all morbidly gray.
“Good morning, Woodrow,” I said before looking over.
His smile gave him away—the perfect teeth.
He never smiled with teeth, not as Woody, who only ever offered minimal actions of affection, fearing they’d not be returned—that was something Nessie had told me.
But Woody wasn’t around these days. The more time Woodrow spent with me, the less the child trapped inside him floated to the surface, much to Nessie’s dismay.
And luckily for all of us, no one else did, either.
“Breakfast?” he asked, his teeth sinking into his full lower lip, a dimple popping on his cheek as his smile grew.
“I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Shall I give you a minute?”
“No, I’m done.”
“Good. We’ll grab something to go.”
“Go where?” I asked, and I was answered only by a wink as he slipped out of view.
I wrote the last words in my diary. . .
I’ll check in soon.
And then I flipped the cover, pushing the diary back beneath my plumped pillow.
I’d dressed in another floaty dress—white flowers on a lilac background emphasized the tones of my skin. Purple flip-flops clacked against my feet as I followed Woodrow through the grass, feeling guilty for stomping on the daisies.
He walked ahead, his hand in mine—always in mine.
The overly full backpack slung over his shoulder caught my attention.
“So, what’s our plan for the day?” I quizzed, wondering why we had rushed off without Nessie. Without breakfast after offering me some.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it anything like yesterday’s surprise?” I asked, and he laughed.
“We’re going on a date.”
“We are?”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not exactly something that will sweep you off your feet.”
“Good. I have enough chance of these flippers doing that.” I raised a giant flipper into the air as he sided to me. “And I wouldn’t want this dress to get grass stains.” I laughed.
Woodrow’s eyes roved over my lilac floral dress, and I didn’t fail to notice the appreciation he had for me wearing it.
He began leading us again as he said, “You sure about that?”
I’m not sure how I’d have felt about the forwardness of his joke, if it wasn’t for the boyish laugh that followed it.
But because of that laugh, I kinda liked it, and my face showed that with a faint blush.
I could see from behind that he was adjusting his throat, shifting the discomfort.
And then I didn’t see much else.
We moved into the trees, darkness closing in on thick branches.
“It’s not much farther.” His voice was lower, strained.
I found myself scanning, taking in the darkness around me.
Deep in the woods, his hand slipped from mine. He glanced for watchful eyes. . . no one’s except mine stared back.
He opened out his backpack, tilting it to the floor, and out she popped—his furry friend.
Surprise caught me, my eyes blinking at the sight of a tiny fluffy tail.
I gawked at Woodrow, shocked that I hadn’t seen any evidence of a living creature on the entire journey. She hadn’t moved, gnawed, or squeaked.
“Climb on up,” he told me, looking at a nearby tree. A grand oak that could surely watch over the entire land if it wasn’t surrounded by its leafy army.
I continued to gawk at him, mouth open, amazed he thought I had the ability to scale a tree, in giant flip-flops, no less.
“Go to the other side. There's a ladder built into the bark.”
I didn’t object. Even with my mouth still wide, no words tried to creep out.
I mounted the tree, my fingers gripping the ladder—a dozen slats nailed a foot apart—my feet following.
For a second, I froze, listening as Woodrow talked to Bonny, and watching and appreciating his gentle touches along her fur.
I didn’t move as he pulled a container from his backpack, lifting a lid to reveal a salad just for her.
I continued to climb the rest of the steps as a smile climbed onto my lips. By the time I reached the last slat, Woodrow was on my tail.
I moved to a large square of wood—something that wasn’t part of the tree but attached to it.
“It used to be a tree house.” Woodrow smiled at me, shiny teeth catching my eye. “I think maybe my granddaddy built it for my father. It was pretty much destroyed before I ever discovered it.”
A tree house, vacant of so many parts and rotting, was now nothing but the remainder of many happy memories.
“I did warn you this wouldn't be a five-star date.”
I laughed, brushing away fallen leaves, and shifting to a place the nesting birds above hadn’t deemed their bathroom. “It's perfect.” I smiled back at him, always willing to appreciate the smaller things in life—because they made the biggest statements.
I took a fallen leaf between my fingers, admiring its beauty while Woodrow pulled out a small blanket and a few food containers.
He laid the blanket out. Its blue fabric was soft against my skin as I moved into its center.
“I apologize for Bonny sitting on our breakfast.”
“I’m just shocked that you could fit so much in one backpack. Reminds me of a cartoon I used to watch.”
A smile lifted his lips, his dimple again appearing on his cheek as the smile grew.
“When did you sneak her inside? I didn’t see her last night,” I wondered, as I helped him to remove container lids.
“I saw her through my window a little while later.”
With all the containers open, the smell of fresh bread wrapped me in a trance. A sandwich calling from the first container. Eat me, eat me.
My teeth sank through the bread before the guilt crept in. I quickly realized that Woodrow wouldn't be able to eat what I did. His tastebuds wouldn't dance to the same tune as mine. But the smile was still on his face as he took the second bite from a banana.
“Is it weird that I'm up a tree and eating bananas?”
“I don't know, monkey-boy.”
He almost laughed again, but stopped himself, shoving the third bite into his mouth.
“I suppose you like monkeys anyway, right?”
“I like all animals. A lot of them are nicer than most people.”
“That's probably true.” I took another bite. It was so good—too good. “Do you like to cook?”
“It's just a sandwich.”
“Prepped to perfection.”
He couldn't stop the laugh this time. Couldn't stop the pain in his throat. Dropping the banana peel into the container, his fingers moved to his throat and gave a light massage.
“I like making things for you. I like the idea of you enjoying something from me.”
“Well, the sandwich is very appreciated.” I took another bite, savoring it, before saying, “But so is your company.”
The smile on his face stayed there as the sun rose and fell. As morning became day and day became evening.
Clouds filled the sky, darkening it as the sun traveled to visit other parts of the world.
I had no idea of the time. I hadn’t glanced at the shiny face of his watch once, and neither had he.
We lay, side by side, staring up at the rustle of trees. The peaceful love song of two birds above caressed our senses. And I found myself smiling, even as he’d gone silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t a better date. One day, I’ll take you somewhere better. You can pick anywhere.”
“Oh, really?” I turned on my side, a challenge in my voice. He followed suit. The smirk hiking the right side of his lip told me, challenge accepted. “A masquerade ball.”
“Deal. We’ll go to a ball. Dress you up like a princess, and dance all night.”
“Dress me up like one of Nessie’s dolls?”
“Like one of the ones she gives to Woody. They always end up naked.” He laughed as I shoved a hand into his chest, but not too hard because I didn’t want him rolling off the edge.
The playfulness that gave me my first kiss was back. Back and ready for more excitement. “You wanna stay with me tonight?” The playfulness muted, making way for hope.
I opened my mouth and sucked in a breath. Sensible me screamed about how fast things were moving. The other side of me, whatever that was, wanted to already be lying in his arms.
“Won’t your parents object?”
“They don’t have to know everything. They never know we sneak out.” He shifted back into his previous position, his head propped up, resting on his fist.
“I share a bedroom with Nessie. I woke her last night coming in. I told her I’d been to the bathroom.”
“Then you’ll have to be quieter tonight.” He bit his lip, playfully determined to entice me. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than it is. A cuddle and a late-night chat, which my parents have already encouraged—”
I stopped him there. I didn’t want to hear him playing it down. I wanted more than chats. More than cuddles. . . I wanted everything.
But the guarded part of me wouldn’t admit to anything of the sort. Anything that could again cause me pain. So, instead, I only said, “I’ll have to take a bath first.”
And then he smiled again.
Woodrow’s sheets had been changed. Now, the color of forestry—a darker shade of green than before, and again, they smelt like it too, like him.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, all bathed with freshly painted nails, dressed in another pair of pajamas that were too tight for comfort.
I still hadn't bought anything in my size. I hadn’t been offered.
I was just gifted Wynter's hand-me-downs, and I would have been grateful if they even close to fitted.
The short sleeves of green satin squeezed my arms, probably my legs, too. The tight fabric cutting off circulation made it hard to tell.
Woodrow locked the door by wedging his computer chair under the knob. He tested it to see how well it worked and was impressed with the result.
I smiled. The dampness of my hair as it crept down my back, in the form of a single wet droplet, made me shiver. I shifted my legs beneath the sheets, feeling the discomfort of the satin bands cutting into my thighs.
Woodrow saw it. “Do you want to wear something else?” he asked, moving to a chest of drawers near his window.