Chapter 11: VEE

I heard a noise outside. I took a look at the old alarm clock. It was three in the morning. The first thing that crossed my mind was that it was my father coming back home, drunk again. His change of attitude had lasted longer than expected. He had started attending a group for people with addictions. He went two afternoons a week and it seemed that in just a month, his appearance had improved. He still drank, but he had even been able to hold on to a job for a whole month.

He had even done some repairs to the house. Our garden was no longer a jungle and almost the shadow of a pleasant home was in sight. A few days ago, Yaron and I had been busy renovating the kitchen ceiling and Dad had helped us.

But it wasn’t my father.

Footsteps sounded coming up the stairs. They stopped in front of my door.

My heart started beating faster and faster, but I didn’t move. I was pure excitement. I could feel that addictive feeling that only came with him. The vertigo of flying so high that everything else disappeared.

Yaron.

I bit my lip and waited. The door opened.

I smiled, hugging my pillow, when he knelt next to my bed.

He brushed my hair out of my face and my smile grew even more intense.

I opened my eyes.

It was the first time he had sneaked into my house in the middle of the night. We had spent many moments together after the sun had set.

The intensity of my feelings was overwhelming.

Yaron was the first boy that brought out these emotions in me. From the first moment I saw him, I made a space for him inside me and I had no doubt that his life was linked to mine, in ways I couldn’t understand.

Best friends. Confidants. Family. We had been all that and we were becoming something else.

Love is a small word. Short. Concise. It barely fits a breath. But it’s immense. Terrifying.

I realized after kissing Yaron, there was no other option for me than to love him.

Yaron laughed and I bit his neck before cornering him on my porch and tangling my tongue with his. I wanted more. I hadn’t had enough.

“You drive me crazy, Yaron Beilinson.”

“You give me too much credit, Miss Hart. You were already crazy before you met me,” he whispered.

He ran his fingers over my cheek. Over my nose. Over my mouth. I enjoyed looking at him so up close. The blue of his eyes. His slightly turned-up nose. The feel of his skin.

I didn’t speak, I just let Yaron look at me, touch me, and do whatever was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the next morning.