Failure Is Not Just For Failures

The sound of running water filled the small hotel room as I stretched and rubbed my eyes.
I stretched and noticed that your side of the bed was empty. You always seemed to be the first one up.
I looked left and notice dad isn't in his bed either, probably the one in the shower. It takes him a good chunk of time to wash and it gives me time to go eat some breakfast, which is probably where you went.
Slipping my shoes on and putting my hair in a ponytail I grabbed for the hotel key on the counter and made my way down the hall.
Not many people are down at breakfast. As I scan the room there's a woman with a child in a highchair watching the news, there's an old lady by the breakfast counter making toast, a businessman talks on his phone while he uses a PDA, and then there's you sitting by the window.
I don't go to you right away because you look deep in thought, and I know that if I step further into the room you'll spot me.
The early morning sun filters in warm oranges and pinks and reds onto your normally pale skin.
You are so beautiful to me.
You squint as you stare out the window and your eyebrows are pulled tight together.
You're thinking about something that looks difficult.
Sure enough as I step closer your head turns to me and your eyebrows are normal again.
What were you thinking?
Pulling out my chair I sit down at the small table. Your hair is still damp from the shower and I can smell your body wash. I look down and notice you still have a muffin untouched and I grab for it. "How did you sleep?"
You look away and down as you answer, "Just fine."
I thought the muffin was blueberry but I taste chocolate as I gaze out the window. I'll probably have to shower as soon as we get back to the room, dad probably wants to leave early and I scowl because I should have checked the time before leaving. The sun looks like it's already 7:30.
I turn back to ask you a question but find you're already staring at me; and I forget it.
My heart burns.
"You have chocolate on your face."
But before I can reach for a napkin your delicate hands are already reaching forward and I feel myself hold my breath as your thumb touches the corner of my lips. It's a lot better than a napkin I find.
You pull your hand back but we are both still staring at each other. "I need to go get ready."
I get up and walk as fast as I can without making it seem like I'm running away and as soon as I round the corner I feel it; my cheeks are burning.