Vanilla & Cinnamon (Short Love Story #1)
Vanilla & Cinnamon
She curled around his muscular body and breathed in deep. He smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, her favorite scent, and she wondered if he put that kind of cologne on just for her.
His scruffy chin touched her forehead as he turned to kiss it. "How are you?"
"Well," she paused. What was she supposed to say without seeming too giddy? "Compared to how I was before, I'm a thousand times better."
"Good," he pulled her in tighter, and she could feel his smile against her hairline.
"But," she began, "I do have a question."
"Yes?"
"Well, you said earlier that sometimes finding love is a waste of time to spend your life."
"And?"
"I was just wondering if you could clarify what that meant," she held her breath.
He only chuckled. "I just meant that some people obsess too much over love. Over finding it, over keeping it, even over playing with it. Nine-year-olds worry they'll never marry, and 26-year-olds have one night stands just to gain experience. They ignore everything and everyone else around them, and they only focus on what they might never find."
"I see," she said simply as she traced lines on his bare stomach, "and where do you stand?"
"On what grounds?"
"What are you doing with love?"
"Maybe I'll never find it. Maybe I will. But I'm waiting for it to come to me, and I'm going to look ahead. Not around, not behind."
She thought for a moment. Maybe she should just say it. "Do you see love in me?"
"I said that finding love is sometimes a waste of time."
"Yes, I know."
He tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet. "Well, I said 'sometimes', didn't I? Other times, it's completely worth it."
"So..." she trailed off.
"So, you're one of those other times," he finished as he kissed her nose. "And I don't wear vanilla and cinnamon cologne for just anyone."
His scruffy chin touched her forehead as he turned to kiss it. "How are you?"
"Well," she paused. What was she supposed to say without seeming too giddy? "Compared to how I was before, I'm a thousand times better."
"Good," he pulled her in tighter, and she could feel his smile against her hairline.
"But," she began, "I do have a question."
"Yes?"
"Well, you said earlier that sometimes finding love is a waste of time to spend your life."
"And?"
"I was just wondering if you could clarify what that meant," she held her breath.
He only chuckled. "I just meant that some people obsess too much over love. Over finding it, over keeping it, even over playing with it. Nine-year-olds worry they'll never marry, and 26-year-olds have one night stands just to gain experience. They ignore everything and everyone else around them, and they only focus on what they might never find."
"I see," she said simply as she traced lines on his bare stomach, "and where do you stand?"
"On what grounds?"
"What are you doing with love?"
"Maybe I'll never find it. Maybe I will. But I'm waiting for it to come to me, and I'm going to look ahead. Not around, not behind."
She thought for a moment. Maybe she should just say it. "Do you see love in me?"
"I said that finding love is sometimes a waste of time."
"Yes, I know."
He tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet. "Well, I said 'sometimes', didn't I? Other times, it's completely worth it."
"So..." she trailed off.
"So, you're one of those other times," he finished as he kissed her nose. "And I don't wear vanilla and cinnamon cologne for just anyone."