Twisting the cork, her fingers grasping the bottle as hard as possible, she winced, knowing exactly what would happen. The bottle brought forward a loud pop, the cork flying across the room as the Prosecco flew out from the bottle. Shrieking like a crazy person, she moved forward and poured the liquid into the two glasses, trying not to splash everything and everywhere.
Happy with the devastation, she stood upright, bottle to her side, nodding her head. “At least I didn’t get it everywhere!” He laughed, a genuine laugh, greatly amused by the events unfolding in front of him. She was, in his eyes, his everything. She wasn’t perfect, to which he also alluded to his own person. Neither of them was supposed to be such a thing. Neither perfect, neither always wrong, but both perfectly right for each other.
If he could do all of this again, he wouldn’t, as he might
miss the adventures of tomorrow, or the next day. He had the memories, the
moments, the first kiss of many kisses and more. She moved her hair away from
her eyes, placing the hair behind her ears. He leant forward, collecting his
newly furbished wine glass. Sipping, gently, he simply looked up into her
beautifully suggestive eyes. He’d always insisted that they called to him, from
the very first day they’d met. The darkness within, being shielded by a smile
that could melt the most stoic heart.
She looked at him, sitting there, with his gloriously
presented jaw line, amongst the other facets that kept her awake that little
bit longer at night. She’d gotten used to spending her nights alone, in her
cold bed. Then, for some odd reason, he’d arrived. Through the chaotic mess of
stability that she called her life, happy to be single, happy to ignore her own
heart, he was there.
She’d tried all of her usual tricks. The past histories of
events. The men, the few that managed to attract her heart, leaving, being
held, allowed to let go. She’d played the games, the victim, the innocent, the
avenging force or the survivor. None of that worked. He’d seen through all of
it and, for some reason, pushed all of that aside, then carried her to his bed to
hold her close. Her rubbish, her trash of events, meaningless to him. Her
nights of crying or days of screaming at the world, all but the view from a
rear-view mirror.
She collected her solitary glass from the table, also
sipping the wine, as her mind sang the cacophony of words that seemed to betray
her calm. She had her moments, that inner doubt, that seemed to creep from
within. She couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t nasty, as she kept a moderate
amount of calm, but still had to engage her demons.
“Why are you with me?” she asked, stepping over the small
glass table, to straddle him on the sofa. She placed the wine glass back onto
the table behind her, leaning back, to return her eyes to his. She smiled, the
vulnerability starting to show ever so slightly.
He listened to her words, knowing exactly what was
happening, despite being asked the same question numerous times over the last
few weeks. He didn’t wish to re-iterate such things, but explanations were
required and that was exactly what he would provide. He also didn’t wish to
play games, to push aside emotions, feelings, or the traditions that were
played within each and every relationship, despite wishing for life to proceed.
He kissed her, with a small kiss, a quick kiss, that still
expressed meaning, before answering, “I could use a thousand different words. I
could say that you have a beautiful smile, or that the things you say make me
laugh, or that you have a backside that I just want to grab. When all of that is said and done, I look at
you, or I hear you… and I just don’t want to be anywhere else. It’s as simple
as that. Anything else is pointless.”
She smiled, moving forward to kiss him in return for his
answer. He returned her smile, as he wrapped his arms around her, moving the
both of them from the sofa. Scooping her up, holding her tight against his
chest, she moved her legs around him and felt his warmth.
She placed her head to the side of his, as he walked towards
the stairs. He knew that he had one thing to do, with that one thing being to
love the woman that he was with. Within that, he had to withstand the storms of
life, to be all that he could be, as well as understand that within her, from a
lifetime of events, existed a chaos unlike any other. He accepted his task with
a smile. After all, the best loves could often arrive from the ever-expressive
lives of the colourfully chaotic.
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