Maybe its karma-dang. Levan Whatever (cos I don’t even know your last name. Ha, ha, how can you be in love with someone when you don’t even know their last name?) But I do love you, and it’s not a crush. I’ve had one or two of those and done absolutely nothing about it because it was all chemicals and it usually breaks when I trip and fall, or if I laugh too loudly).
As you probably realized I’m not one for being extrovert or wearing my heart on my sleeve, but I always wanted to be brave if I fell in love with someone.
This is me, being brave.
My initial plan was to remain close friends with you for a little while, to test if you are a maniac or something, but dude you’re harder to reach, or read than a wall. Damn.
Anyway … it’s exhausting. I suspect you have no interest in this brilliant girl. But that’s alright … one man’s pizza is another’s salad. (Did I mention that I have an amazing sense of humor) … And no, I’m not going to apologize for my stale jokes.
So, Levan, this might ruin whatever chance of a friendship we have and that’s okay. I need to focus on work and you as a question mark in my mind is not getting me close to being the first billionaire baker (Ha, ha).
If you aren’t interested, but think I’m a freaking cool girl to have as a friend, then say this outright, so I can snap back to reason real quick.
If you deem I’m not awesome enough to sit out the awkwardness then, it was great knowing you.
So … let me know?
Bianca
“Oh my God!” I gasped.
My shout alarmed my father. “Bianca, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Uh—nothing. I’m just about to die from shame. No wonder he never responded.”
“What are you talking about?”
A new message came in then, and I read what Levan had sent.
“We can never be friends,” he wrote. “I know I’m two years late but hey, you can’t say I didn’t give you a chance to work on becoming the first billionaire baker in the world.”
I reread the message … over and over again, as my eyes began to mist.
“Bianca,” my dad called to me.
I swiftly wiped my eyes so as not to alarm him. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “It’s just Levan being sweet to me.” My heart pounding in my chest, I dialed his number and put the phone to my ear.
“Hey!” I heard Levan’s voice. I pulled the phone from my ear to see it was still ringing. I turned to the back door.
He stood there, his arms full of a massive bouquet of red roses.
I stared at him in shock.
“Happy birthday, my darling,” he said softly.
“Uh …” I began, just as Stacy came into the kitchen and began to giggle.
He came forward and stood in front of me. “Do you know you are covered in a ridiculous amount of flour?”
I ran my hands through my hair and more flour motes flew in front of my face.
Levan smiled and put the roses in my hand. Then he reached out and gently brushed my face with his fingers.
“Thank you,” I said, suddenly shy.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked.
I nodded. “Is it okay if I leave you here for a while?” I asked Dad.
“Ah, you go on, Love. Stacy will take care of me.”
Putting the flowers down on the table, I went with Levan.
We got on the vibrant street, breezy with the late summer wind, and for a few minutes walked in complete silence.
“I wish you hadn’t saved that text.” Although, it was deeply touching that he had kept it all this time.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m going to save that text for the rest of my life.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s beautiful. Every single word is beautiful. Because it’s you. It’s everything I want.”
His hand on me burned and I remembered once again, what I had to tell him. Before I could stop myself, I rose up on my tiptoes, and pressed my lips against his.
He kissed me back as softly as I did him. Then his arms tightened almost desperately around me. Always, when we kissed it was the same. At some point, it was as if we were afraid it would be our last kiss. As if we were absolutely desperate for each other. His tongue stroked and teased mine, and I savored his flavor, in complete disbelief at how we always got to this part. No matter how many times we kissed.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more,” he replied.
I lifted my gaze to his and could see the nervousness in his eyes. “What is it?”
“I don’t want to pressure you,” he said. “So take your time in responding.” His breathing seemed to hitch, almost as though he couldn’t contain the emotion that swelled in his heart. “I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket.