Page 117 of Love Unwritten
I had intended on joining Rafael and Nico outside at some point, but the heavy weight pressing against my shoulders and chest has me sticking to the confines of my bedroom, where I can fully embrace my emotions through music.
I toss the guitar pick on the bed and reach for my notebook. The page is covered with a mix of unfinished lyrics and song ideas that failed to pass my first round of edits.
I’ve always written songs from a woman’s perspective, weaving my personal stories into purposeful lines and relatable lyrics. While it shouldn’t be a challenge to write from Cole’s point of view, I’m struggling. Hard.
I drop back on my mattress with a sigh and end up falling asleep for a couple of hours until I’m woken up by heavy knocking against my door.
“Ellie?” Rafael asks.
“Yeah?” I rub at my tired eyes.
“Can I come in?”
My heart picks up speed. “Sure?”
The doorknob turns before the door opens to—
I gasp. “Oh my God.” My hand instantly reaches out toward Rafael’s clean-shaven face, only for me to snatch it back.
His slightly pale cheeks, which I haven’t fully seen in the whole time I’ve been working for him, turn pink as his gaze meets mine. “You don’t like it?”
I most definitely shouldn’t, but I’m single with an active sex drive, so of course I like Rafael’s clean-shaven face. In fact, I like it a whole lot more than I should.
“It’s…nice,” I manage to say with an even voice.
He rubs at his cheek. “Just nice?”
“Are you fishing for compliments again?”
“Only because you’re starting to give me a complex.”
“Would you rather I say you’re hot?”
“See? Was that so hard to admit?”
I roll my eyes with a smile. “Anyone in town could tell you that.”
His eyes lock onto mine. “I don’t care about anyone else’s opinion.”
My stomach takes a dive into dangerous, butterfly-inducing territory. “Now you’re giving me a complex.”
I have to glance away because I can’t bear the weight of his stare. See, Rafael has always been hot, even with his rugged aesthetic, but this is different.
He is different.
I’m afraid to hope, just in case he takes another major step back, but at the same time, I am so proud of him. The idea of him reclaiming parts of the old him while becoming someone new makes me incredibly emotional. How can it not when I’m getting a front-row view of him pulling himself up off the ground after spending the last two years buried underneath his sorrow?
“Ellie?”
“Huh?”
“Jokes aside, are you feeling okay?” A worried line appears down the middle of his forehead.
“Oh. Yeah.” I clasp my hands together to hide the way they tremble.
“Nico wanted to get you some medicine.” He places a paper bag on the edge of my bed. “He was worried about you. I…uh…was too. I texted you to check in, but you didn’t answer.”
A part of me dies inside at the hint of self-consciousness in his tone.