FALL IN TO ME
JOSH – STILL IN THE PAST
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as I reached out for her again, hesitating as my hand hovered just above her arm. She still seemed so uncertain, her body slightly tense, her eyes flickering with doubt. But she didn’t move away.
That small hesitation in her was enough for me to take a chance. Slowly, carefully, I let my hand brush against her arm before curling my fingers lightly around her wrist. When she didn’t pull back, I stepped closer, gently tugging her toward me.
I didn’t kiss her again.
This time, all I wanted was to hold her—to feel her warmth, to remind myself that she was still here, still real. I slipped my arms around her waist, my fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the soft fabric of her sweatshirt. Her hair tickled my chin, and as I buried my face near her shoulder, I caught the familiar scent of lavender.
It was a smell I’d come to associate with her–her shampoo, her presence, her. It made something in my chest ache in a way I couldn’t explain.
She stood there stiffly at first, and I thought for a terrible second that she was going to push me away, But then, after what felt like an eternity, she exhaled a shaky breath and slumped ágainst me.
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Her weight in my arms was the best thing I’d felt in weeks. Months, even.
I held her tighter, one hand resting gently on the small of her back while the other slid up to cradle the back of her head. She felt so small, so fragile, and I wanted to tell her that I’d never hurt her again. That I’d spend the rest of my life making up for every stupid, thoughtless thing I’d done to her.
But the words wouldn’t come.
So I just stood there, holding her, hoping she could feel everything I couldn’t say.
After a while, I felt her shift slightly in my arms, and I pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were still guarded, but there was a softness there that hadn’t been there before.
“Can I make you a cup of tea or, uh… something?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Laura blinked up at me, and then, to my surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You want to make me a cup of tea?” she asked, like it was the strangest thing in the entire world.
I felt heat rush to my face, and I scratched the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I mean… I could try. If you want.”
She let out a soft laugh, the sound light and almost teasing. “Josh,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “You’ve never made tea in your life, have you?”
I shrugged, feeling a little self–conscious. “I can figure it out.
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How hard can it be?”
Her smile widened, and for a moment, she looked like the Laura I’d fallen for all over again. “Okay,” she said, stepping back slightly but still staying close enough that I could feel her warmth. “Make me a cup of tea, then.”
“Alright,” I said, nodding like this was some grand mission I had to complete. I turned toward the kitchen, my mind racing as I tried to remember if we even had tea in the house. Jess drank it sometimes, so there had to be some somewhere, right?
Laura followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I opened cabinets at random, searching for anything that resembled a box of tea bags. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her watching me, and it made me even more nervous.
Finally, I found a dusty box shoved in the back of a cabinet. I pulled it out triumphantly and turned to show her.
“See? Tea,” I said, holding up the box like it was a trophy.
She laughed again, shaking her head. “That’s chamomile,” she said. “It’s supposed to help you relax.”
“Good,” I said, setting the box down on the counter. “Relaxing is good.”
I grabbed a mug, filled the kettle with water, and set it on the stove. Laura watched the whole time, her arms crossed and her lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said after a moment, her voice softer now.
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“I know,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at her. “But I want to.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying me like she was trying to figure me out. “Why?”
I swallowed hard, turning back to the kettle. “Because… I want to take care of you,” I said quietly. “Even if it’s just something. small like this.”
When the water boiled, I poured it into the mug, dropped the tea bag in, and brought it over to her. “Here,” I said, setting it down in front of her.
She looked at the mug, then back at me, her expression unreadable. “Thank you,” she said softly.
I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets and rocking back on my heels. “It’s not much,” I said, feeling a little awkward. “But… yeah.”
“It’s enough,” she said; her voice barely above a whisper.
We stood there in the kitchen, the air between us heavy but not as tense as before. She took a tentative sip of the tea, and I couldn’t help but smile a little when her nose scrunched up at the taste.
“Not a fan of chamomile?” I teased.
She shook her head, but there was a small smile on her lips. “It’s not bad,” she said.
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