Page 51 of Our Little Cliche
A rogue tear, falling down my cheek. Then another. And another.
Why am I crying? Why do I feel so…
Overwhelmed. That’s what this is.Overwhelm.
“Holly? Jesus,” Cyrus calls in a panic, snatching my hands out of the bowl and under the tap to clean. He dries them off before cupping them between his until they’re warm. “Here. I got you.” With ease, he lifts and plonks me on the kitchen counter. “Talk to me,” he demands with every ounce of urgency as he brushes my tears with his thumb.
I lose my breath for a second as his hands band either side of my face, guiding my eyes to stay fixed on his, which are dartingback and forth between mine. I’ve never received so much empathy in my life, it’s both intense and comforting all in one.
He holds me like this for a beat, until my breath slows.“Why?” I weep.
“Why… why what?”
“Why does my life have to be like this?”
“Like what?” He wipes the new tear away, then brushes the stray, cow-licked hairs from my face in such a gentle manner that I can’t put into words. It’s so…intimate, but not sexual. None of this is.
Why does he have to be so amazing?
“Like the books I read,” I murmur.
“What do you mean?”
I sigh, not taking my eyes from him. “I feel like I’m living in a Hallmark movie that I never signed up for. I’m experiencing every bloody romance book I’ve read. My head hasn’t stopped running a million miles an hour since I met you, because whenever I’m around you I’m hit with the freight train of every single emotion. I’ve been so unkind to you for no reason. I’m so sorry, I truly am. I’m such a mess.” The tears pick up again, and my throat swells.
“You’re not a mess, Holly. You’re just scared.”
Of what exactly? Being in a country that I never intended moving to? Losing my job? Possibly being scammed, and maybe never seeing my furniture again? Or scared of falling in love?
“Scared is one of the many things I feel.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Unlike most men, I pay attention, Holly.”Oh, god.Why does he have to say my name like that? “I listen, I watch, I observe everything about you. Everything you do, everything you wear, everything you like or dislike, what your favorite foodis, what drinks you enjoy, the way you like your tea made, the way you plait your hair when you’re trying to get my attention, the way you pinch your cheeks every time I come into the room, the way your teeth chew on your inner lip when you’re nervous, so much so that you make yourself bleed, or when you try to act cool so that you don’t flirt with me… like calling memateas if it’ll be a deterrent. Spoiler alert, it’s not. You’re like a fucking magnet. Why do you think it’s so goddamn hard for me to stay away?” Finally, he breathes. “But I respect your boundaries, so I keep my hands to myself, even when it’s killing me.”
“I’m—”
I’m sorry.
“And when you cry like this, Ican’tkeep my distance.”Oh my god.“But I have to learn to, before I do something we’ll both regret,” he adds.
Like losing our jobs.“You’re right.”
“Come on, then.” He gently lifts me and puts me back on the floor, then takes the bowl with the sausage mince, tossing a cloth to me over his shoulder. “I can’t have you hungry any longer. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”
How does he know?
He enters my space once more with a lifted brow. “I pay attention, remember?”Ok. So he’s a mind reader.Well, it kind of speaks for itself—I do love my food. A warm smile turns the corner of my lips, as if the boiling chaos in my brain has somehow simmered. “This smells delicious. I can’t wait to try them,” he adds.
“It’s my mum’s recipe. She used to make it for me almost weekly when I was a kid. Slapped on a bed of mash ‘taty ‘n dead’orse on top,” I say, and Cyrus almost drops the pastry on the floor with anI’ve just seen a ghostlook on his face.
“I beg your pardon… but what’s dead?”
A loud cackle breaks free from my chest. “It’s mashed potato and tomato sauce. We call itdead horsein Australia.”
His brow pitches, then continues to gather the rest of the ingredients on the table. “Just when I think you couldn’t get any stranger, you open your mouth, proving me oh so very wrong.”
