I stare at the screen, water trailing down my wrist before typing again.
He’s funny in this dry, sarcastic way that sneaks up on you
And yes, he’s infuriating, but more than that, he’s so incredibly, but so quietly KIND
If you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss it
And then that day at the pier? Nothing happened, but it was like, the best day I’ve had in a long time
Stella
So, you like him
That’s not new information
Gabby
Oh honey, she liked him the day they met
Now?
She’s gone
I bite my lip.
They’re not wrong.
This week has felt like falling into a rhythm I didn’t know I was craving.
Morning coffee already brewed.
Playlists we argue about during PT.
His warm hands pressing against my scar tissue, drawing circles there with his thumbs, making me forget how broken I’m supposed to feel.
And every night, we part ways in the hallway with words unsaid between us, eye contact doing the heavy lifting, thick and honeyed and heavy.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day. Replayinghim.
We haven’t kissed again.
We’ve barely touched.
But it’s there, this thing. It’s in the way his eyes linger too long when he thinks I’m not watching. In the way he corrects my form during stretches and then doesn’t quite step back. It’s in the silence. The kind that hums with wanting.
But it’s more than that. I genuinely like being with him. He makes me laugh. He listens to my opinions, my hopes, my dreams, and he doesn’t laugh or poke fun, he figures out a way to make them reality.
I drop my phone on the bathmat with a sigh and press my palm flat against my chest.
It doesn’t matter what’s lingering or humming or any of that so why don’t we just think about something else?
Easier said than done, so I pull the plug, hoping a change of scenery will help.
The water gurgles down the drain, swirling around my legs, pulling the last bit of warmth with it. I reach for my crutches, leaned carefully against the edge of the tub. The rubber tip catches. Everything tumbles—metal on tile, a crashing symphony of chaos. One crutch hits the floor. The other bounces off the sink. Startled, I flinch and lose my balance.
“Shit!” I catch myself, mostly, but water sloshes over the side, my elbow bangs the wall, and a startled yelp escapes as I twist to keep my ankle from hitting.
“Lucy?”
