A Wish for Us

by Tillie Cole

  I swallowed. “Never?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never . . .” She raised her chin. “I’ve never done anything . . . but kiss before.”

  I dragged in a breath and stared down at her. Her eyes were watching me, waiting for my reaction. “Bonnie, I’m not sure I’m the one—”

  “You are.” Her shaking hand landed on my face. “You’re the only one who could have this.” Her eyes watered, and the tears tracked down her cheeks. “I tried to fight it, but you never left. And my heart didn’t let me turn away.” Her fingers traveled over my chest and lingered over my heart. Her eyes closed briefly, like she was counting its beat. When she opened her eyes, she sat up, and I got to my knees. She pulled my jumper over her head and let it fall to the floor. Then her hands were on my shirt. She lifted the hem and started pulling it over my head.

  I pulled it off the rest of the way, throwing it to join the jumper on the floor. Bonnie swallowed as she lifted her hands and ran them over every one of my tattoos. Over the swirls of color that swarmed over my chest. And over the two swords, lion, and crown that made up the British Army crest. She tipped her head back and her eyes met mine.

  I pulled out the band that kept her hair from her face. Her long hair fell down her back. I ran my hands through the strands, and as I did, she leaned in, kissing my skin. My jaw clenched at the feel of her tentative mouth on my stomach. She kissed me again, this time over the tribute I’d had tattooed to my dad. Seeing Bonnie kiss the crest that had meant so much to the man who was my best friend did something to me.

  My hands threaded into Bonnie’s hair. I pulled her to my lips. And I kissed her. I was pretty sure I could kiss her all day and never grow sick of it.

  “Cromwell,” she whispered against my lips. I broke away, only enough for her to speak. “I need you,” she said, shredding my heart. “I need you so much.”

  “What do you want?” I asked, running my lips along her cheek. I was unable to move away from her. I needed to touch her.

  “Make love to me,” she said, and my eyes closed. “Show me how it could be.”

  My heart thudded in double time at her request. I laid her back down and kissed her again. But as I kissed her, I moved my hands down to her trousers and untied the waist. Breaking from her mouth, I pulled them down her legs. I sat back and looked at her. Her body was mostly shaded in darkness. But I could see enough of her to make out her silhouette. She was perfect. Every part of her was perfect. And I realized just how much I wanted this. Wanted her. I ran my hands up her legs, slowly. With every inch, Bonnie gasped, her back starting to arch.

  The sound hit my ears, and deep red squares fluttered in my eyes. My hand touched her skin below her top. It was so warm, so pale. I never wanted to take my hand away. I shifted the material up and over a camisole underneath. Bonnie’s breathing was like a song in my ear, strings commanding me to move. To touch her, feel her, taste her. I slipped the top over her head, watching as her skin turned pink and her eyes grew leaden. I wondered what she was thinking. But when her eyes met mine, I didn’t need words. Her pretty face told me how much she wanted this too. My hand next moved to her camisole. I pushed the material up, exposing her stomach. I paused, just looking at my tattooed tanned skin against her white.

  I’d never seen anything so perfect.

  “Please leave it on.” Bonnie’s voice made me look up. She pulled her camisole back down. Lowering my head, I kissed her lips just to chase away the momentary flash of worry in her eyes. I didn’t know what that worry was for. But I didn’t need to have her naked. She was beautiful enough, just like this.

  I kissed her, licking along her lips. Her breath was warm on my face, and I could smell the vanilla of her shampoo. My fingers traced along the softness of her arm. Her body moved against mine, showing me how much she liked it. My chest swelled. I’d never had this in bed before. Never felt this much for a girl before.

  All those before had meant nothing to me. Their faces were all a mass blur. Even my first time was a drunken, meaningless mess. But this felt different. Being with Bonnie, like this, felt different. Bigger somehow. Bonnie’s gaze locked with mine and we just stared into one another’s eyes for a few seconds. It felt like a lifetime before her hand moved down to the fly of my jeans. Her face was filled with nervousness, her brown eyes wide. I laid my hand on top of hers and took the lead. Leaning down, I kissed along her cheek, her forehead, and finally her lips, as my jeans came off.

  I pulled the covers over us. I thought it might make her feel better. Bonnie smiled at the action, and I crawled on top of her, covering her body with my own. I met her eyes and ran my hand down her cheek. “You’re beautiful.” Because she was. She so bloody was.

  A tear slipped from the side of her eye. “So are you,” she said and smiled. I pressed my lips to hers. And as I did, I ran my hands down her waist, over her stomach, and down to her legs. “Touch me,” she whispered, and I shut my eyes, taking a second to breathe.

  Violet-blue lines flashed across my mind every time she spoke, bringing me a kind of peace I couldn’t describe. Silver was the backdrop, the color never fading, still bright from tonight at the club.

  Bonnie’s back arched as my hand moved. She whimpered and fought for breath. I watched her face in the blue light, trying to soak in every noise and every move. I kissed her shoulder, the same one I’d kissed in the music room. Sweetness burst on my tongue when her peach and vanilla scent drifted into my nose.

  “Cromwell,” she whispered. I reached into my drawer and pulled out a condom. When I was ready, Bonnie, now wearing nothing but her cami, held out her arms.

  I settled above her, pushing her hair from her face. “You sure?”

  “More than sure.”

  I never took my eyes off her face. Bonnie’s hands were on my back, holding on tight. I was as gentle as I could be. I didn’t want to hurt her. My breathing echoed in my ears. Bonnie’s eyes were locked on mine. She never looked away. As I built up speed, when her breaths became short and shallow, she never once looked away.

  And the way she looked at me . . .

  Her hands ran through my hair, slowly and softly. I lowered down and kissed her. Kissed her lips, and kissed her cheeks. I kissed every part of her face. When I lifted my head, tears were falling down her cheeks. I worried that she was in pain, but when I stilled, Bonnie put her hand on my cheek. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered, her throat tight.

  So I kept going, my teeth gritted together at how good it felt. At how good she felt beneath me. But not because I was inside her. But because it was her, looking up at me like this. Brown eyes watering and lips shaking.

  Wanting me.

  Needing me.

  She was my silver.

  “Cromwell,” she murmured and held on tighter to my arms. I built up speed, feeling her body warm and her lips part. I couldn’t look away as her head tipped back and her eyes fluttered to a close.

  Her hands were gripping me so tight. As she caught her lost breath, she turned her head and kissed my forearm. I stilled, going over with her as a multicolored burst of light shone behind my eyes. Illuminated like the crescendo of a symphony, my soul at peace with the quiet hum of happiness. Tucking my neck into the crook of her shoulder, I breathed as I slowed to a stop.

  I breathed in her peach and vanilla scent and just lay there in the darkness. My chest didn’t feel as tight as it usually was. The anger that bubbled like a dormant volcano in my stomach had calmed, so much that I could barely feel it.

  I breathed easier.

  Bonnie’s hands traced lazy lines up and down my bare back. Her body was warm beneath me. Her breath drifted past my ear. She was still breathing fast.

  Finally, I lifted my head and met her gaze. Bonnie’s eyes shone, the tears still falling down her cheeks. I smoothed them away with my thumbs, then kissed her wet skin. Her finger ran down my face. Her bottom lip trembled as she whispered, “Thank you.”

  I kissed her in response. Slowly. Softly.
>
  I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me. Bonnie held me back. I felt her tears on my shoulder. But I didn’t ask her why she was crying. She wasn’t sad.

  She was moved.

  I rolled us to the side, and she faced me on the pillow. “You have the prettiest eyes,” she said, circling my right eye with her fingertip. She smiled and just about blew apart my heart. “You’re handsome, Cromwell Dean. So handsome.”

  I took hold of her hand and kissed each one of her fingers. Bonnie watched me do it. I could feel a sadness in her that I couldn’t explain. As another tear fell, I asked, “You okay?”

  She smiled at me. It was a real smile. “More than.” She took my hand in hers and played with my fingers. “I never thought I’d ever have this moment.” She smiled sadly. “And with someone who understands.”

  “Understands what?”

  “What it’s like to have been born with a song in our hearts.” I swallowed, my stomach rolling at her words. Her grip tightened on my hand, and a nervous expression flashed across her face.

  “What?”

  Bonnie looked up at me, then said so quietly I almost didn’t hear her, “I saw you. When you were younger.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Bonnie kissed my finger. “My music teacher showed me a video of you in concert. Conducting music you composed. The BBC Proms Young Composer of the Year.” I swallowed, my chest hollowing out in shock. “I never forgot your name after that day. I listened out for you.” She lifted up onto her elbow. Her hand ran through my hair. “You went quiet. And I always wondered what happened to you. Until I heard of you again. Only this time the classical symphonies had gone, and in their place was electronic dance.”

  I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t get my head around the fact that she’d seen me as a kid. Performing. “That’s why you saw me when you were in England.”

  She nodded. “I wanted to see you in person.”

  Something stabbed in my stomach. “That’s why you said my music had no soul.”

  Bonnie lost her smile. “I believe that music should tell a story. I believe that in the notes and melodies there should be some kind of meaning. Music should take you on a journey, crafted by the creator’s heart.” She kissed my lips. “Your music that night . . . there was no story to me. No meaning.” My stomach fell, but it rose again when she said, “I don’t think that anymore. I’ve seen you play. Heard the music you can create. It’s all soul, Cromwell. The things I’ve heard you play on the piano, they were full of meaning. So much so that it made my heart cry.” Her eyes shimmered. “Never doubt your talent, Cromwell. I see it clearly now.”

  “It’s you,” I admitted. Bonnie stilled. “You were right. I’d lost my way. My music . . . it didn’t have purpose. There was no story. They were just the colors that made me feel the least.” I wanted to tell her why. But even now, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I rubbed a strand of her hair between my fingers. “Since you . . . it’s felt different. Music. It’s you, Farraday. You’ve made it different.” I laughed to myself. What I was going to say was cheesy as hell. But it was true. “I’m inspired.” She sucked in a breath. “You inspire me.”

  “Cromwell.” She shook her head. “I can’t inspire you.”

  “You have and you do.” I put her hand on my chest. “Since I met you, music I’d kept away has been filling my head. I’ve played, when for years, I hadn’t picked up any instrument but my laptop.”

  Bonnie dropped her head to my chest, and I held her there. We didn’t speak after that. I heard Bonnie’s breathing even out and knew she’d fallen asleep.

  I stayed awake until the sun started to rise. I stroked her hair and just held her to me. There was a pit in my stomach again. And my hands itched to create. They always did when something big happened in my life.

  And having her with me like this, right now, I knew it was big. Bonnie Farraday had stormed into my life like a hurricane.

  It was the first time in a long time that I fell asleep with a smile on my lips.

  *****

  I woke to the sound of people out in the corridor of my dorm. I blinked in the room, clearing the sleep from my eyes. I felt cold. When I looked to my right, I expected to see Bonnie. But she wasn’t there. “Bonnie?” I called. There was nothing.

  I sat up. Her clothes were gone. A sinking feeling dropped within me. I threw the duvet back and picked my jeans and jumper off the floor. The jumper smelled of her.

  Where the hell has she gone?

  My shoes were on in seconds and I was out the door. The cool breeze whipped at my face as I took the path that led me to the other dorms. I had no idea what time it was, but it must have been late morning or early afternoon. Students milled about, some eating in the quad, some just chilling out.

  When I arrived at Bonnie’s dorm, a student was just coming out. I caught the door and walked down the corridor until I arrived at her room. As I went to knock on the door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. I pushed it open to reveal her room.

  Boxes were all over the floor. Everything had been packed away. Her bed was stripped, and the walls were bare. I stepped into the room and saw Bonnie sitting on the chair at her desk, her eyes lost as she stared at the box beside her. She was dressed in leggings and a long jumper, all black, and her hair was thrown back in a bun. She was holding a notepad in her hand.

  She looked up, and her face drained of color. She didn’t say anything as she met my eyes.

  My eyebrows were drawn down in confusion. “I’m moving out,” she said, clearly reading my mind. I was a statue, glued to the spot. Bonnie tried to smile, but then her lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I wasn’t meant to fall for you,” she said quietly. Brokenly. She laughed, but it held no humor. “We didn’t see eye to eye. And it was meant to stay that way.” She tucked some of her loose hair behind her ear. My heart thundered in my chest, beating a million miles an hour.

  “But then I heard you play in the music room that night. Saw how it seemed to hurt you, impact you.” She shook her head. “And it did something to me . . . something I couldn’t seem to move on from.”

  A tear fell down her cheek. I watched it travel down her skin until it hit a box at her feet. “I tried to tell you, Cromwell. I tried to tell you we couldn’t be together. It isn’t fair. Nothing about this is fair.”

  “You’re not making sense,” I said, a sense of dread eating at every part of me.

  She stared at me for a few strained seconds. “I have a broken heart.”

  My confusion didn’t lift. Then anger quickly took me. She liked someone else? She’d kissed me. She slept with me, and all the time she’d liked someone else. “You . . . Bryce?” I asked, my words curt and tone harsh.

  Bonnie shook her head sadly. She stepped forward until she was in front of me. She took my hand and brought it to her chest, right over where her heart was. “Cromwell, my heart is literally broken.” Her wet lashes left marks on the top of her cheeks as she closed her eyes. “I have heart failure, Cromwell.” She smiled sadly. Devastatingly. “My heart is dying.”

  It was as if a strong wind blew into the room. I couldn’t breathe. My chest pulled tight, so tight that I felt it ripping at my muscles.

  My heart is dying . . .

  “No,” I said, my voice sounding hoarse and graveled. “No . . .” I gripped Bonnie’s hand and pulled her to me.

  “I’ve tried everything, Cromwell. I’ve had surgeries. Valve replacements.” She sighed, breathing out a slow controlled breath. I wondered if it was to stop herself falling apart. “I even saw the best doctor in the world for it, to see if there was anything they could do. In London, this summer.” The reason why she’d been in the UK suddenly became clear.

  “Bonnie . . .”

  “But there’s not. My heart is too weak to keep going.” She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with her free hand. “I didn’t plan for you.” Her trembling hand fell on my cheek. Her hand was cold. “I knew I could never g
et close to someone. It wouldn’t be fair. To either of us.” She smiled at me, a devastated watery smile. “But your music made me see you, Cromwell. It called me to you. The boy who hears color.”

  Her head fell to my chest. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve had the strength to walk away. But with you . . . I just couldn’t.”

  Bonnie’s legs seemed to falter. I caught her and helped her back to her seat. “You okay?” I asked, then felt stupid. Of course she wasn’t.

  Her heart was dying.

  “It’s getting worse.” She looked at the boxes around her. Her college life all packed up in cardboard. “I’m fading fast. We knew it was a possibility. But I didn’t think it would be this quick. My breathing is getting worse. My hands and limbs are getting weak.” When she looked into my eyes, hers were haunted. “Soon I won’t be able to play or sing.” Her face contorted, and I dropped to my knees and pulled her to my chest. “Music, Cromwell. I won’t be able to sing.” She drew back and said, “I have to move home now. Things have gotten too hard to be here on my own.” She sucked in a breath. “Then, it’ll be the hospital.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “There’s got to be something they can do.”

  Bonnie ran her hand through my hair. It was becoming my favorite thing she did. “I’m on the transplant list, Cromwell. That’s all there is left to do. Right now I’m nowhere near the top.” A steely determination set in her brown eyes. “But I’m determined to get that heart. I’ve fought for years. And I am not giving up now.” She took my hand in hers and held on tightly. Her bottom lip shook. “I don’t want to die, Cromwell. I have too much to live for.”

  I couldn’t breathe as those words slipped from her lips. I felt my eyes fill and I closed them, trying to chase the tears away. Bonnie just held on tighter. When I opened my eyes, she was watching me. “I would have lived my whole life trying to achieve even a tenth of the talent you have, Cromwell. It’s why I was so hard on you. Because of the gift you have.” Her eyes dropped. “And I think I would have spent my whole life waiting for a boy to treat me as you have recently.” She swallowed. “Last night . . . it was everything I could have wished for.”