10
915 Words
Chapter 10
The Best Part of My Day
The morning after their first kiss, Leah woke with a smile she couldn't explain.
She stared at the ceiling of her room for several long seconds before burying her face in her pillow.
Then she laughed.
She had kissed Marco.
Not in a dream.
Not in one of the romance novels she shelved every afternoon.
It had happened.
And somehow...
It still didn't feel real.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door.
"Breakfast!" Mrs. Dawson called.
Leah quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs.
The moment she entered the dining room, Mrs. Dawson looked up from her newspaper.
"Well."
Leah froze.
"What?"
"You look suspiciously happy."
"I always look like this."
Mrs. Dawson lowered the paper.
"No, sunshine."
A mischievous smile spread across her face.
"You look…. kissed."
Leah nearly dropped the glass of orange juice she had just picked up.
"I—"
"Oh, don't worry."
Mrs. Dawson chuckled.
"I've been young before."
Leah covered her burning face with both hands.
"I don't think I can ever leave this town."
"Why not?"
"Because everyone knows everything."
Mrs. Dawson laughed.
"In Seabrook?"
She poured another cup of coffee.
"We don't know everything."
She paused.
"We just notice everything."
---
Marco wasn't much better.
He had been trying—and failing—to repair a fishing net for the last twenty minutes.
"What exactly are you smiling at?"
Old Tom, one of the fishermen, frowned at him.
Marco blinked.
"Was I smiling?"
"You've tied the same knot three times."
Marco looked down.
He had.
"I guess I'm distracted."
Tom grunted knowingly.
"The bookstore girl?"
Marco sighed.
"Is it that obvious?"
Tom barked out a laugh.
"Son..."
He clapped Marco on the shoulder.
"...you've been walking around like a man who won the lottery."
Marco shook his head, smiling to himself.
"Feels a little like I did."
They both laughed
---
That evening, Marco arrived at the bookstore carrying a small brown paper bag.
Leah stepped outside after locking the door.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
Inside was a bookmark.
Hand-carved from driftwood.
A tiny wave had been etched into the top.
Leah traced the smooth wood with her fingertips.
"You made this?"
Marco nodded.
"Last night."
"You made me a bookmark?"
"You work in a bookstore."
He shrugged.
"It seemed appropriate."
Leah looked up at him.
"No one's ever made something for me before."
He smiled softly.
"Then I guess I wanted to be the first."
Her eyes shimmered.
She slipped the bookmark inside the novel she was currently reading.
"I'm never losing this."
"I'll make you another if you do."
"No."
She smiled.
"I want this one."
---
Their walk through town felt different now.
Not awkward.
Not uncertain.
Comfortable.
Every now and then their hands brushed.
Eventually, Marco reached for hers.
This time...
Neither of them hesitated.
Their fingers intertwined naturally.
As if they'd always belonged there.
---
They stopped outside Murphy's Bar just as music drifted through the open windows.
Leah looked toward the stage.
"Someone's playing guitar."
Marco suddenly became very interested in the ground.
"Yeah."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"You said you played here."
"I might have."
"You never told me when."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I didn't think you'd come."
Leah smiled.
"So you've been hiding it from me."
"I've been protecting my dignity."
She laughed.
"Marco."
"What?"
"I want to hear you play."
He hesitated.
"I'm not that good."
"I don't care."
He studied her face for a long moment.
Finally...
He sighed dramatically.
"Fine."
"You'll regret this."
"I doubt it."
---
The small crowd applauded as Marco stepped onto the stage with an old acoustic guitar.
Leah found a seat near the front.
He adjusted the microphone awkwardly.
"I don't usually dedicate songs."
The audience exchanged curious looks.
"But..."
His eyes found Leah.
"...there's someone here tonight who's reminded me that starting over isn't the same as giving up."
Leah's breath caught.
"So this one's for her."
The room fell silent.
His fingers brushed the guitar strings.
The melody was simple.
Warm.
Comforting.
Marco wasn't the greatest singer she'd ever heard.
But every word felt honest.
He sang about second chances.
About finding light after believing the night would never end.
About discovering home in another person's smile.
When the song ended...
The bar erupted into applause.
Leah was already on her feet.
Marco climbed off the stage looking slightly embarrassed.
"Well?"
She didn't answer.
Instead...
She threw her arms around him.
He laughed, wrapping his arms around her in return.
"You were incredible."
"I missed three chords."
"I didn't notice."
"I definitely did."
She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.
"I think..."
She smiled.
"...you're my favorite musician."
He grinned.
"I think you're biased."
"I absolutely am."
---
Later, they sat outside on the empty boardwalk.
The sea breeze carried the faint sound of waves.
Leah rested her head on his shoulder.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"What were you like before Seabrook?"
Marco grew quiet.
"I don't know."
She frowned.
"You don't know?"
"I don't think..."
He stared out at the water.
"...I was someone I'd recognize now."
She squeezed his hand.
"I'm glad I met this version."
He looked at her.
"So am I."
Neither of them noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Inside, Richard Bennett's investigator lowered his binoculars.
He made one final note in his report.
**Emotional attachment confirmed.**
He closed the file.
Phase One...
Was complete.
- Writer
