Page 88 of The Story Of Us

I lift my free hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She gives me that soft smile of hers that makes me feel like nothing else in the world matters except for her.

We lay like that for a while, inside our own little world where we don’t need to speak to communicate. I’ve wanted to say those three words to her for a long time now, but I’m still holding them back until everything else we’ve got going on with exams, universities, and the project is settled. When I say them to her, I want it to be at the perfect moment.

She came to my room so we could work on the project because we both hadn’t been spending as much time on it as we should. The deadline is coming up at the end of April in a few weeks, just before exams start in May, and we aim to finish it by the start of the month so that we can relax a bit before we have to study a ridiculous amount.

“Come on, let’s get some work done, and then we can watch a movie or something.”

“Hmm, I think I’d rather do the something if it’s what I’m thinking of,” she says as leans over to kiss me.

She’s going to ruin me.

Maybe she already has.

I force myself to sit up because I know if we stay like that for any longer then nothing productive will get done. I move to sit at my desk, and Violet stays on my bed because we don’t have another chair. I pass her laptop to her and she takes it from me, settling her back against the wall, knees propped up as she balances the laptop on top of them and starts typing.

My laptop is hooked up to my drawing tablet, so first, I watch through everything I’ve done so far, noting places where another frame could be added to make the result smoother. I spend a few hours doing that, drawing and redrawing, watching the same clip multiple times to make sure it all looks fine, and I can feel my hand starting to cramp up from how long I’ve been holding the stylus.

I drop it to the desk and start flexing my fingers, trying to stretch the muscles out as best as I can. It’s a bad habit of mine to get lost in drawing to the point where I don’t realise I haven’t let go of my pen for so long. I press my hands together, bend my fingers backward and pull at them to try and lessen the pain, but it’s still there, so I take it as a sign to have a break.

At some point, Violet changed how she was sitting, so now her legs are stretched out in front of her, and the laptop is resting on her thighs instead. I tap her foot to get her attention, and she looks up from her laptop to me, eyebrows raised in question.

“Let’s take a break,” I tell her, standing up from the chair to go and sit next to her on the bed.

She moves her laptop to the side of her, holding out her hand and gesturing for me to come towards her as she crosses her legs.

I take my place next to her, and she instantly leans her head on my shoulder, so I rest my head on top of hers. She intertwines our fingers, but when she gives my hand a light squeeze, I let out a small hiss that has her head butting my chin as she tries to look at my face.

“Did you hurt your hand?” she asks, worry lining her voice.

“It just cramped up a little. It’ll be okay in a bit.”

Violet unlinks our fingers and pulls my hand into her lap before she starts gently massaging it. She runs her thumb through the gap in between each knuckle, up and down each finger, with a light pressure that doesn’t hurt too much but seems to be doing the trick. I reach my free hand to hold her head and bring it back to my shoulder, resting mine on top of hers again as she soothes my aching hand.

After a few moments, I close my eyes, trying to memorise everything about this moment - the lavender scent of her hair, the weight of her pressed against my side as she leans on me, the steady movements of her hand on mine. I don’t want to forget a single thing.

I open my eyes when she lifts my hand to her lips and places a kiss on each knuckle and then the back of my hand. I link our fingers together, the pain completely gone, and do the same to her, not even trying to hide the huge smile on my face.

I wait for her to say something, but when she’s silent, I lift my head from hers and lean forward a little to look down at her face. She’s staring at my wall, more specifically at the empty spot next to my collection of her birthday cards.

“I still have it, you know,” I say, placing my hand back on hers.

“Hmm?”

“The card I wanted to give you last year.”

She knocks my chin again, her fingers tensing in mine as she looks at me with sad eyes.

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.”

I let go of her hand so I can shuffle forward to get off the bed and grab my backpack. I open it to find the card that’s been there since last year, permanently sandwiched between two old sketchbooks that I don’t use except for this purpose. Both of our hands shake slightly as I pass the card to her - mine because I remember every word I wrote, hers because she’s probably worried about what’s in there.

I debate between giving her space or sitting next to her while she reads it. She doesn’t give me much of a choice, though, as she pats the space beside her, and so I take my place next to her.

She leans on me again, fingers toying with the opening of the envelope for a few seconds before she finally unfolds it. Violet takes the card out slowly, and I try to steady my breathing as I prepare for her to read what I wanted to tell her a few months ago—what I’ve wanted to tell her for even longer than that.

This is going to be a little different compared to my other cards, but we’ve been different this year so I hope you’ll forgive me for that.

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