Chapter Eight
1086 Words
Kellan Porter POV
After that day, we started seeing each other, spending almost every day of Summer. We jumped fearlessly and bathe in the cold river. She splashed me water, I splashed back. Our laugh burst out so loud and echoed under those broad mountains. I drove her bike, she leaned her head on my back, as the cool summer breeze batters us. On some days, we spent it at a local diner in town as we eat her favorite chocolate ice cream sundae with whipped cream and extra sprinkles. We ate slow, talking about everything. How she loves arts so much. How painting makes everything lightweight. How she loves the color green, because it makes her feel life. How she loves classic songs, and how listening to music lifted her mood. Her favorite movies, her favorite music. How she loves baking. How she loves reading and writing on her diary. How she loves dancing in the rain. How she loves stargazing. How she loves flowers. And how she loves watching the golden hour hits the water of the Edenton Bay at the Roanoke River Lighthouse. I told her, my mom said she can sing. Her cheeks turned red, she denied it. She looks embarrassed. It’s cute.
We laid at the cool grass under a huge tree, and watch the sunlight on the gaps between the leaves. I gave her flowers, because she told me she loves it. She was so happy. I watched her as she smelled it, and her smile and eyes glinted. She kept complimenting my curly dark hair. I kept complimenting her smile. We ate the sandwich I made; she told me it’s very delicious. She asked me to cook her food at home, and so she could also meet my mom. She made me do a pinky promise. I chuckled. I cooked her food at home. She told me, she loves watching me focused, so present on doing work. She converses with my mom, as we ate. She laughs so hard, mom does as well as we talked about my five-year-old childhood moments. I couldn’t stop but be infected on their laughter too. She talks a lot, but I love listening to her so much.
She worked with me at the Mechanic shop, helping me with her entertaining random stories. She put grease on my face, I followed her, she ran. We were so chaotic and loud. She met Mr. Gibson. She talks a lot and smiles a lot. Mr. Gibson likes her instantly. Classic song played on the radio, she danced softly. I couldn’t stop watching her. She asked me to dance with her; I told her I didn’t know how to dance. Still, she pulled me and put my hands on her waist, she wrapped her arms around my neck. She said, ‘just move your body on the rhythm of the song.’ We move slow, gliding softly. I kept stepping on her toes, she just giggles.
We sat at the wooden boardwalk of the Roanoke River Lighthouse, as we watched the golden hour until the night sky unfolded above us and the glistening constellations awakened. She told me Polaris is her favorite star. It wasn’t the brightest, but Polaris remain, so consistent. It never rises; it never set. It stays at the northern sky all night, every night, all year-round. She told me, if reincarnation exist, she would be a Polaris star because she wants to remain as a stagnant shining star so if ever, I get lost I could always find her. She leaned her head on my shoulder. I stared at her hands crossed together on her thighs. I was thinking of grabbing it and wrapping it on mine, but then her head instantly tilted back when a shooting star catches her eyes. She was so surprised and happy as her finger pointed it. She closed the lid of her eyes, crossed her palms on her chest, then she made a wish. I chuckled. She told me to make a wish too. I told her I don’t believe on that stuff. I asked her what she wished. She told me, she won’t tell me because it will not happen if she did. I chuckled hard.
One night, we were walking home when suddenly rain started pouring down. I should’ve run like I always did, but what instantly tattooed in my head at that moment is how she loves the rain. I stood with her on a damp, dark, quiet street holding her soft hand as the rain slowly soaked our dry clothes. She smiled at me, the same heavenly smile, she asked me why I didn’t run? I told her, I’ll dance in the rain with her. She smiled even brighter. This time I was the one pulled her closer and put her hands on top of my shoulder and put mine on her waist. I pull her close as we started swaying slowly. There’s no music, no rhythm to follow, and yet I found myself moving seamlessly just focusing my eyes on her and hers mine. I have never like dancing, but for her I did. The rain felt warmer, and calming. The streetlights cast a warm orange glow through the mist. We were completely in the moment, and it feels like it was just the two of us existing. She takes a slow spin; her hand flew with grace. She giggled. She comes back into my arms, her cheeks turned pink. She softly gazes at me like I am a gold in her eyes, as they glinted under the gloominess. She slowly presses her forehead to mine as the surface of our nose touches and the rain streams down our faces. ‘I just want us to stay dancing like this forever.’ She whispered. Another declaration of how much she loves me. The moment I heard it, an overwhelming feeling of euphoria rushes down on me. I have never felt this overwhelming love. I have never felt this so much happiness. Maybe the words ‘I love you’ might’ve stuck in my mouth, I couldn’t say it even though I badly wanted to. Instead, my palm instantly lingers in her face and slowly my lips meet hers. She didn’t dither. She kissed me back. Just a soft, gentle pressing of both lips but felt so much more. It was the very first time that we had kissed. All I could think of is that, I love Isabella Madden so much.
- Writer
