Until we were it E-Book

Katriina Huhtaniemi

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 99

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

This is the story of how I met you. This is the story about our clueless hearts falling for each other in a foreign country and creating something so remarkable that it still makes my body light on fire. This is the story about passion, love, about sex and sexual awakening. About finding yourself, about inspiration. This is the story about struggling to have a parent with a drug addiction, about surviving. This is the story about two young restless hearts through words, through poetry. This is my raw soul on these pages. "Don't be scared to feel what your heart keeps offering you. Take the matches, light it on fire and embrace the feeling"

Leseprobe

Until we were it

Until we were itChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Copyright

Until we were it

This is the story of how I met you. This is the story about our clueless hearts falling for each other in a foreign country and creating something so remarkable that it still makes my body light on fire. This is the story about passion, love, about sex and sexual awakening. About finding yourself, about inspiration. This is the story about struggling to have a parent who is a drug addict, about surviving. This is the story about two young restless hearts through words, through poetry. This is my raw soul on these pages.

"Don't be scared to feel what your heart keeps offering you. Take the matches, light on fire and embrace the feeling"

Chapter 1

     our bodies are not the most beautiful thing

on this planet

it's our souls building them to be so blinding

that only by touching them you can really sense how beautiful they are

souls is where it begins

bodies is where it ends, connects

Hello or goodbye, may I use hello now before it's too late, before goodbye rolls off my tongue accidentally or maybe because it's the easiest thing for me to say, I thought.

It started months ago when the land of Venice, the land of water and canals was set under my feet. When my heart burst like a volcano from walking on the streets that lead nowhere as the scorching sun made my shoulders burned and ahcy. My mind, the thought of you as someone complete didn't follow the steps that I took, as I forgot that there, here are living other souls than you. They and their words didn't matter.

I let myself breathe, fall asleep and I see you. Your vivid eyes, that looked like silver and the mouth, your mouth that could make me weak in the knees any second. And as today comes and tomorrow never stops arriving I can't seem to let my mind forget about you and how you spoke.

The plane landed in the evening, when it was already dim but bright enough to see the Italian faces, which looked quite similar to what I though. They looked like us but happier. We travelled quite often; me and my mother. Just the two of us, dad hadn't been around for a long time. Yes of course, many men had came through our front door during the last few years but not anyone who I could call as dad. I missed saying that word a lot but mom never knew that. Or maybe she did, who knows. She never did a wretched thing about it.

My mother never wanted me to fall in love. She had been heartbroken so many times by men whose for she would have counted all the stars on the sky and brought moon to touch the land. She never wanted me to to feel the same way, the pain, the sorrow, she didn't want me to lose all hope on love like she had. That's why I had always been scared of telling her about the boys who got my mind messed up.

Our taxi rode in the parking lot, we entered the hotel, mom walking behind me, with dear excitement of getting somewhere new. This was new indeed, living in someone else's house, with another family. We had stayed in modern hotels, which made others feel poor, only because we got our grandmothers legacy when her time was running low. Then the money started to run low, as it has always done, so renting rooms from others felt like a good idea.

I sat on the lobby as few people were walking by, all of them looked like they were in a hurry. Pulling their luggages that had been stuffed way too much with shampoos and hoodies, talking on the phone trying to explain to an Italian taxi driver where they needed to be picked up.

Man with furry moustache and a few razor burns down his neck came to us and I was waiting for a funny Italian accent. "Floor 2, your family is waiting for you," we heard. That sounded off, like I was born and people were waiting for me, ready take me into their family. Mom took the key on her sweaty palm and walked next to me. She put her blonde hair in a ponytail, like she always did.

If I would have just known how everything turned out eventually, I would have been to nervous to open the door of room 237. Who knew what was waiting for us?

As I walked, the evening sun crowded from the windows caressing my skin and I felt happy after a long time. I rolled the keychain in my index finger and looked down to those perfectly cleaned floors.

We entered the room. And there you were, just standing there. I don't know why, but I just couldn't get my eyes out of you, I didn't urge to look anywhere else. Everything just might have started then and there, in that very moment that today makes my body forget how being alive really feels like.

I remember you wearing nothing but baby blue shorts that looked billowy and soft. No shirt, no shoes, nothing that could cover that body of yours, your chest and stomach which had already tanned. He looked older than he could be yet he was born two years before me. His look had that spirit of a child but seriousness of a man, which only made me feel a bit more. You had a dimple on the right corner of your mouth, scar on your forehead which tried to hide under your almond brown hair. The tint on your lips was are red as the last apples are at August. Your hungry, wide shoulders and eyes bright as diamonds. Every time I blinked got me look at you more deeply, in a different way. Suddenly I felt the need to keep that beautiful creator in front of me safe from all the bad things in this world.

it were the first seconds

when i met his eyes

and asked myself

why am i just now seeing

those eyes

when i don't want to see

anything else anymore

Someone said hello behind me. Your father who looked like every business man in the world, like every good father out there, handed his palm as a gesture. "Welcome."

I turned to you. With slight hesitation, yet excited that I could see your sparkly eyes again.

"Hey," my mouth uttered.

"Hi. Evan," you said with your British accent that made me tingle a bit. It wasn't as strong as in "The King's Speech" but it still catched my ear significantly.

"Belle."

"Belle," he repeated like he had trouble hearing it for the first time.

"Like the princess?"

I blushed a bit. As in I was the beauty, standing here with a jet lag and a sweaty face. He suddenly let go of my hand mellowly like he gave up and turned his back. Soon enough my heart felt like it dropped on the drain like water does when it's pouring rain.

He didn't like me. Yet I was urging him to like me  from the very first second we stepped inside. He was arrogant. I can't grow to hate him, I can't.

"This is odd," I continued just to break the silence between us, like I was talking to his back.

"What is?"

You knew exactly what I meant, but tried to keep this conversation going.

"We are all strangers to each other and we are going to live with each other," I phrased it.

It felt like I was being rude. I didn't want to be. I was referring to the fact that we were poor enough to stand here with your family.

"We are open people," he told me. "That shouldn't be a problem."

You sounded a bit harsh, maybe you were tired of letting people use the extra rooms in your second home, greet them, trying to find ways to get away with becoming friends because I was sure you had many friends already. You sounded like a murderer convincing that everything was okay but soon I'd be in the bathum blood all the way up to auricles.

I smiled at you and this time, I turned my back at you.

I went to room that was signed for me and greeted your mother Celia. She looked like you, hair colored like yours, eyes big and blue, with the same tint on her lips.

"Celia, what a beautiful name," I said while she lightly shook my hand, put the other in top of our hands. "Thank you. Im Italian, the name runs in the family." They were the perfect family, picturesque. I didn't want to tumpel any of it so losing my mind for him wasn't an option.

The room had been done just for me. I fell to the bed which was too neat to be messed up. I fell asleep in a second, my body feeling irritated but soon to be rested.

The morning, the very next morning came beyond fast. My luggage was still sitting in the corner untouched, filled with scratches and stickers, "ti amo daverro tanto" one of them said. That was definitely Italian, how it sounds so magical.

I headed to the kitchen, wanted to see if you had already woken up. Celia was making breakfast with her hair up and apron on. Like that, she looked like a complete copy of every house mom, like the women in the taggy signs that people hanged on their walls to make themselves feel like they were back in the happy 60s.

"Morning," they said around the table.

"Morning."

We ate and soon you joined us, like you planned to come after me. Celia made toast like americans did but the juice she poured into my glass had to be local. "It's from the apple trees from our yard," she said and gave me a gesture to taste it. What a bitter yet sweet taste which balanced each other, colored like gold, like a dot in your left eye iris. Those rested eyes gave a quick glance at me, and you sat on the other side. You smelled like pillows, I wanted to brush away the piece of hair from your forehead. My eyes met with your tired smile, again.

You seemed different than yesterday, no harshness was left, no arrogance but this kind and thoughtful side of you which made everything seem better. Could he be thinking about me, the way i looked, what changed from yesterday? We may have not shared many words yet, but the looks, those looks started everything.

We all sat around the table, for a long time, so long that I forgot to look at the clock. Silent traffic of Venice pushed through the windows as we talked about everything that came to mind, sharing the biggest things going on right now. It didn't take long, until it started to feel like family. Like those words and smiles could be enough to replace the real ones.

I always let myself fall for that trap. Those were the moments I felt like everything wasn't in its place when I felt more warm with the people I just met rather than my own mother. That mother sat next to me, looked like she hadnt had a single breath of sleep, her hair was curled from the ends hiding their dryness and the marks of leftover mascara under her eyes were slightly too obvious. She took a Peroni in her hand, I gave her a mad look that nobody else saw, judging the fact that it was 11 A.M. yet she told me it was vacation. Who doesn't drink on vacation? She would be the reason, the reason I would have hard time getting to know these people who I felt I've known forever, known you forever.

I looked through the window, it was so sunny that day, the sky with no clouds was truly luminous. It's funny how we all have the same sky, but from here it looks different. You walked next to me, leaned on the window ledge. "Do you want me to show you around some day?" The question took me off guard, it was pleasant yet I didn't know if he was doing it out of habit or because he wanted to. "Sure."

Your hand was placed on top of mine, only for  a few seconds, it could have not been longer or maybe it was just for a blink. You walked away.