Page 66 of Whispers of Fire

My angel is silently laughin’ and that's the most perfect sight I have ever seen in my life and probably will ever see.

Can't fuckin' ruin this night by tellin’ her I'm suppose to leave. Won’t lose this moment over club business. I want to enjoy tonight with my girl, watchin’ her laugh and smile. That's all that matters right now.

Patting her lower back, I push her gently on the side. Don't want her to get burnt. I open the small door, taking the popcorn and pouring the content in a salad bowl. I give her the chocolate syrup and take the caramel one. Haven’t had this kind of treat for so long. Sharing a smile we both spread the syrups on the popcorn, and once she's satisfied, after literally spraying all the syrup on the popcorn, she puts it back on the counter, biting her lips.

“C’mon Angel, gotta pick the movie,” I say, lacing my fingers with hers and taking the bowl in my other hand. She squeezes mine back and raises on her toes to kiss my cheek quickly with a flirty smile. My heart skips a beat, takin’ me off guard.

And that's how I know.

That one day, I'm gonna tie myself to this girl in all the ways humanly possible, cause there's no way I'm livin’ this life without her by my side.

Fuckin' hell.

Looks like the walls have finally crumbled down.

Rose

What a strange pirate. I keep laughing so hard since Vox put it on. Something with Carabeen in the title and the main character is hilarious. He walks in such a strange way, I can’t keep a straight face. I know Vox is watching me as much as I’m watching the movie. He has a small grin on his face like he’s mesmerized by me or something.

It’s making me feel like I have hundreds of butterflies in my belly. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. Especially since I'm usually too self-conscious to let go and laugh in public, because I know my way is… well, kind of weird. I laugh but I don’t make any sound because of my damaged vocal chords. But Vox doesn’t seem to care.

Actually, I think he kind of… likes it.

Nestled in his arms on the couch, I don’t stop myself from melting into him, feeling his warm chest against mine. I’m not afraid to touch him anymore; it has become second nature.

It’s late, I had to wait for my parents to fall asleep, but nothing could be more worth it than this moment.

Sometimes I just wish I could be heard for once, in moments like this one, with Vox. I wish he could hear me, and from his intense look at me, I bet he wishes it too.

He hasn't asked me yet how I lost my voice and I’m thankful for it. He doesn't make my mutism a topic of conversation, like it's some kind of elephant in the room people have a right to know of. It's not like that. And I don't like when I'm asked to give people a reason for my inability to speak, like I owe it to them. It doesn't reach their closed minds that perhaps it's painful for me to explain how I lost my voice, how it changed my life drastically, isolating me like a sickness people were afraid to catch.

The fact that he keeps the notebook always out on the counter and that he is learning sign language just makes me speechless.

Well, joke’s on me.

But that's how I feel about it. Never thought such a manly, imposing biker man would take the time to do such a thoughtful thing. He surprises me everyday, cooking for me, making sure I feel safe around him. Even if I feel how much our bodies are drawn to one another, he watches me like a starved man seeing an oasis in the desert and still, he holds back. Which is why I only respect him more for giving me space, to take my time and not rush things.

I want to tell him about my voice one day.

He opened up himself at dinner, letting me know about his work. But I could tell he wasn’t giving me the whole story. He was sugar coating things, his eyes filled with worry about my reaction, so much it broke my heart.

Since I was a little girl, I’ve been taught about right and wrong, about what was out of line and what was acceptable. But it all changed when I met him. The lines blurred. And now I can’t look at anything with the same certainty I had before. Now there’s nuances, shades I didn’t know, complexities I’ve been kept from.

Vox keeps telling me how much of a bad man he is but it’s not true. He’s good to the people he cares about, his brothers and… me. Since day one, he has taken care of me in a way that makes me want to curl up and cry.

Whatever he is hiding from me, I won’t run away from him. Because I like him.

Like? That’s a bit more and you know it…

Like isn’t strong enough but I don’t have it in me to admit the truth, not right now, not with everything going on in my messed-up life. Admitting it is makes it alive, and once it exists, it’ll break me into pieces when I’ll eventually lose it. Because there’s no way on earth Vox shares those feelings for me. I'm just a strange girl with strange clothes and strange habits.

Liar. You know it’s not about that.

I bit my lips, struggling to stay calm with my mind churning in all directions.

What would a man like him do with a girl like me?

He’ll get bored eventually, looking for adventure and challenges awaiting him. He’s wild and I’m… dull and boring and I don’t even know what pizza tastes like.

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