Shoot your Shot (2)

Hey lovelies, did you like the last short story? Here’s the continuation. There’s unfortunately no audio version of this one but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless💛

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EBUKA

That’s your name right? (I’m hoping I heard you correctly the first time) You have sneaked into my thoughts nearly everyday since that day at the bank. Imagine my surprise walking into national hospital and finding you lying on the bed beside my mother. Why aren’t you in a private ward though? Aren’t you rich enough to afford a private ward? Doesn’t the smell of disinfectants and seeing other dying people bother you? Or is this just a side effect of dying? Doesn’t matter though, you’re barely awake as it is. I’m sure you can’t tell.

I hope you don’t mind that I looked into your chart. I asked the nurse about you and lied that I was family and later changed it to girlfriend when she realised we don’t bear the same surname. I hope this doesn’t upset you or freak you out. I was just curious.

I remember the first time we met, I was having the worst day of my life and the last money I had in the bank wasn’t coming through because they refused to accept my check and I needed to pay for my mother’s surgery that morning. “It’s urgent. She would die if we don’t open her up soon” the doctor had repeatedly said (As if I was playing. As if I didn’t know🙄) I think about it now and I regret not talking to you. I was too stressed to think of anything else and I beat myself up for days after that. On the other hand, maybe it’s a good thing I was stressed because I wouldn’t have borrowed your pen or said a word to you any other way. You are a fine boy by every standard and way out of my league, if I was in my right mind, I’ll have stayed in my lane, so maybe it’s okay that I was frustrated.

I pay more visits to my mother these days. Mostly to watch you sleep though, I love the way your features frame your face when you sleep, everything sitting perfectly still like something Michael Angelo would have painted. You’re like a work of art really. I find myself wondering sometimes what you’re like in a more awake form. You look like you’ll be funny (or maybe not) We barely spoke but I long to hear from you again. I pray for you too, almost every hour. I pray that you’ll get better soon and open your eyelids and say something even though everytime I pray, a part of me is afraid of what would happen if/when you eventually open your eyes. What if you don’t like me? (Not that it entirely matters at this point though. I’m completely smitten without your consent)

This is my last day here and it’s bittersweet. My mom is getting discharged today and I’m glad she’s getting better but I won’t have a reason to come here anymore. I won’t be able to sit by your beside and play with your fingers and say all sorts to you freely knowing you can’t hear me so yeah, I’m a weird mixture of sad and happy. I sit by your bedside one last time, the final time actually and just as I’m about to cup your face in my hands, your eyelids lazily flutter open

“La.. Lara”

You remember my name! I try not to freak out or show any semblance that my insides have gone rogue and my heart is doing a dance of its own. I don’t know which made me happier – the fact that you woke up finally or the fact that my name was the first thing that escaped your lips. I realize you’re still staring (Damn there is something your eyes does to my heart)

“Hello” You managed to speak again.

I’m confused.

“Hello?”

You chuckle (it’s amazing how such a manly sound could sound so cute)

“I always wanted to say that to you”

I had been on his mind! I try not to freak out

“Of all the things in the world, Hello?”

“Well there’s a long list of things I want to say to you, but Hello is the opening”

I don’t know why I laugh but I do (it’s not even funny but in a way it is)

“You’re so beautiful”

My heart stops for a minute not because this is new information but hearing it from your lips… I just want to scream in delight.

“Thank you”

“I wasn’t trying to impress you”

“I know”

“Is that why you’re smiling”

“I’m not smiling”

“But you are and it’s such a gorgeous sight”

He takes my hands in his as I try to hide the flush in my cheeks. Was my blush obvious? I really hoped not.

“Won’t you ask why or how I’m here?”

“I don’t care”

“I know. About your sickness”

“Are you afraid?”

“No. Not really. Well sometimes”

“You’re my dream come through”

“How? You met me just once”

“I saw you three times, met you once and have dreamt of you everyday since then. Not literally though. That would be creepy”

“I’m creepy too”

You smile and for the second time that day, my heart freezes in my chest.

“Marry Me Lara”

I laugh

“It doesn’t work that way”

“I’m dying”

You’re laughing now and I can tell you’re joking. Or maybe not, your eyes are serious.

“I don’t know you enough” I quickly say

“Well I want to know you more and I wouldn’t stop. Not even when you’re my wife”

“Who says I’ll marry you?”

“I’ll chase you and love you and chase you again till you do”

I’m laughing now

“You’re relentless”

“Relentlessly in love with you”

And with that, he leans up with what I assume is his last ounce of strength and plants a kiss on my lips. This is what heaven must taste like.

“Lara! Lara oh. Which kind of dream are you dreaming that you’re smiling like that?”

I open my eyes to see my mother looking down at me in a mix of confusion and bewilderment. I shake off the disappointment. How do I tell my mother that I just spent my whole exhausted sleep dreaming about a stranger I met in the bank? A stranger I never even got the chance to speak to.

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