Fiona

His bathroom wasn't that interesting, well besides the shower that could also be mistaken for a spaceship. Before I left the bathroom I looked in the mirror. I realized that the shirt he gave me was a Bon Jovi shirt. I appreciate his great taste in music.  

I also notice the way the rain made my hair look wavy and fell damp. And how my eyes were hidden behind my long, dark eyelashes, that were clumped up from the rain. My cheeks ware a little red and hurt from laughing with Ash. It added a little color to my dark skin.

After I stepped out of his bathroom, my heart sped up a little faster because Ash was looking through his closet. Without. A. Shirt. I stared at his skinny but muscular arms for a second and quickly looked away. I walked across the room where the bag of books we bought was. I was in the middle of reading the title and something caught my eye. It was a picture of Ash with a Santa hat on. He was smiling a shiny, bright smile. IN the next picture he was planting a kiss a sweet, little old lady. I turned around to ask him who she was but he was standing right behind me. With his shirt on, thank God.

"Who's this?" I asked pointing to the picture.

"That's my grandmother," he said with a weary smile. "She died a month ago. Heart attack."

"I'm so sorry. What happened? How old was she?" 

"She was 72. I always knew she was going to die but not in the way that she did. I imagined she would going peacefully, happier. Actually, she probably would be still alive today." he said staring through the picture. It felt like he wasn't even looking at anything and he was just lost in his own thoughts. "My mom came home drunk.  She started yelling at my grandmother. She tried to hit her but I pulled my mother back. That resulted in her hitting and scratching me." he raised his jaw to show me a scar under his chin. "I guess it was too much for her heart. She died right in front of me. I couldn't even help her."

I looked down so he could wipe a tear from his eyes. Then he walked towards his gramophone. He started looking through his records. He pulled one out and said:

"This was her favorite song," he was smiling, even though his eyes were starting to get glossy again. He put the record on. I realized the melody right away. It was "Ben" by the Jackson five. He was looking down at the rotating disk. I felt so bad for him. I just wanted to comfort him. 

So I took both of his hands and put them on my hips. Then, I put my hands around his neck. 

"What are you doing?" he said. I feel the hurt in his voice.

"We're slow dancing." He snorted and laid my head on his chest I started to move back and forth to the beat. He pulled me closer and I could feel the heat of his hand against my cold skin. We dancing in silence to the song until it stopped.