Page 69 of Puck Me Twice
It’s been about a year and a half for me as well. Longer since I’ve seen any of my siblings. I know they’ve been stateside in the last few years for conferences and work obligations, but they haven’t called me up once. Then again, the United States is quite different in size from Sweden, and I travel so frequently…
A door snicks open, and my heart pounds as I hear footsteps down the hallway.
“Hey, have you seen—”
Vanessa stops in her tracks.
Her mouth drops open.
“Hi,” I say, like an absolute fucking idiot.
“Hi,” she whispers.
She looks like she could be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her hair is down in loose blonde waves, makeup making her face intense and dramatic while still looking like herself. She’s wearing a long-sleeved lavender dress that skims a few inches above her knees, dark tights, and silvery pumps with a delicate strap around her ankle. The dress’s neckline is fitted to her collarbone, but when she turns, I see the back dips low to her mid back, and my heart thumps at the sight of her smooth, creamy skin on display.
My mouth dries suddenly, and I swallow and lick my lips. “You… you look… Wow.”
A flush spreads over her face. “You like?” Vanessa asks, lifting the hem of her skirt and twirling, showing me the back of her dress again. There’s a little strap connecting the sides of the dress, a simple string so innocent I could probably rip it with my teeth.
I want to.
Need floods my body, overriding my senses. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless, but my feet are rooted to the spot. I’ve had feelings for her for a long time. I’ve seen her nearly every day for the last four years. But I haven’t needed her like I need her now, like my very breath has been stolen and won’t be returned until she bestows it upon me.
Nodding emphatically several times until I’m sure I look like a bobblehead toy, I hope to convey what my words can’t.
“Yes. Very much. Yes.”
Vanessa makes her way over to me, and as I reach for her, I find the flowers in my hand.
“For you,” I tell her, handing over the bouquet.
“They’re lovely,” she says, taking the cellophane-wrapped bundle and bringing it to her nose to inhale the roses’ scent.
The sound of the plastic wrapper makes me cringe a little inside—it is not my favorite sound, it is right on the list with styrofoam and cardboard scrapes of DO NOT LIKE—but I do my best to hide my reaction.
She pauses, adjusting her grip and making the plastic rustle more, and I die a little.
“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asks.
My shoulders go up around my ears and I shake my head several times. “Nothing.”
“Something is wrong.”
“The—I don’t like the noise. The crinkles.” I give a whole body shiver. “It’s not a good noise.”
“Here, I’ll take that,” Bex cuts in. I almost forgot she and Elsy were still there. “We’ll get rid of the cellophane and put the flowers in water for you.”
Robotically, Vanessa hands over the bouquet, and I do my best to block out the sound of the crinkling plastic as it shifts hands.
This means Vanessa has her hands free, and she places one on my upper arm, rubbing soothingly. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s gone.”
Swallowing thickly, I bring my eyes to hers. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” She cocks her head, watching me intently.
“I should be able to—I need to—”
“You don’t need to do anything, Sven,” she says, and her usage of my name grounds me. “Misophonia is no joke.”
