21

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

I 'm in the shower, the steam thick around me, my heart pounding as I stare at the massive fucking snake on the floor.

A SNAKE.

Where did it even come from? I'm on the first floor. Can snakes even slither up walls? All I do know is that I definitely screamed my apartment down when I saw it. I didn't know who else to call. So, I called the first person I could think of, despite my internal panic.

I called out to Siri to call Bradley on speaker, praising the lord I had saved his number under a contact and that I'd brought my phone into the shower with me.

After just getting off the phone with him, reality sinks in. I'm standing here, completely naked, my towel innocently hanging on the rack near the door—the same spot the bloody snake has now decided to make its resting place. Dread tightens its grip on me.

What if it moves? What if it comes closer?

I'll simply pass away.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and a wave of dizziness washes over me. I can't stay here, but every instinct tells me not to move. My breaths come in short, shallow gasps, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

But amidst all this panic, one thought consumes me—Bradley. He's going to come rushing in here, only to find me standing here, all exposed. Thank goodness the steam has fogged up the glass a little, but it doesn't change the fact that he'll see me, all of me. My mind races with scenarios of embarrassment and awkwardness, adding to the chaos of the situation.

This can't be happening. Not now. Not like this.

As I stand there, my mind racing with embarrassment and fear, I hear the front door open and Bradley's deep voice calling out, "Amelia? Where are you?" Before I can even answer, he comes barreling into the bathroom, and I squeal in surprise.

"Are you hurt? What the fuck happened?"

"Oh, my god! Cover your eyes!" I shout, instinctively trying to shield myself from his gaze. On cue, he turns his head away, his voice loud and deep.

"What are you doing?" he asks, clearly taken aback.

"What does it look like, Brad? I'm trapped in here, and there is a snake right there," I say, pointing at the glass, where the snake has now moved a centimetre or two.

"Can you—can you grab it?" I ask, my voice trembling with worry.

"How am I going to grab the fucking thing with my eyes closed?" he retorts, frustration evident in his voice. He looks down and spots the snake, muttering, "Oh. Well, fuck. "

Yes, indeed.

"Just grab my towel," I suggest, desperation creeping into my tone. "Please."

"Nothing I haven't seen before, sunshine," he says with a smirk. Oh. Oh.

"Don't kill it, please. Can you… pick it up? Grab it? I don't know!" I plead, hoping he understands the gravity of the situation.

"It's a fucking brown snake, Amelia," he replies, his voice serious, emphasising the danger. He takes a step forward.

Oh, is that bad? How does he know that? How do I not know that? I've been living in the bush, literally, all my life. I am ashamed to say that I did not recognise it.

"Is it really that dangerous?" I ask, my voice small.

"Yes!" he responds firmly. "They're the second most venomous snake in the world."

I gulp, feeling a wave of fear wash over me. Now that I know it's very venomous, I panic even more.

As Bradley processes the situation, he grabs my towel and throws it to me. I quickly open the shower door slightly, just enough to catch it in time.

"Thanks," I mumble, wrapping the towel around myself, feeling a bit more secure. Bradley, on the other hand, seems to find the whole thing amusing.

"Fucking hell," he says with an exhale, before releasing a soft chuckle. "I thought something bad happened," he exclaims, his voice raised in mock concern. I am dumbfounded. How does he find this amusing, and yet here I am, mortified and utterly embarrassed? But I guess in the grand scheme of things, it can be seen as... well, to him, kind of comical.

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore his teasing.

"Well, something bad did happen. There's a snake in my bathroom," I retort, and he laughs softly, clearly unfazed by the situation.

"Relax. I'll take care of it," he says confidently, stepping closer to the snake.

I watch nervously as he approaches the snake, his movements slow and deliberate. Suddenly, the snake moves quickly for a moment, and I squeal in sheer terror.

"Oh, God!" I cry out, my fear escalating. "What if it bites you?"

"Shhhh," Bradley chastises, his tone amused but firm. "Stop screaming, woman."

"I'm sorry," I gasp, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm just really scared of snakes."

Bradley laughs, and with a steady hand, he reaches out and grabs the snake behind the head, careful not to startle it. And I watch in awe. The sight is doing all sorts of things to me, but being aroused was the last thing I ever expected to be. Why is Bradley manhandling this snake so incredibly hot? Goodness me.

"What are you going to do with it?" I ask, my voice shaky.

"I'll release it outside," he replies, already opening the door, before disappearing.

With the snake safely removed, I cautiously step out of the shower, looking around at... well, nothing, now. Hey, you can never be too sure. I quickly grab my things and walk back out into my living room. After a few moments, Bradley comes back in, closing my front door.

"All taken care of," he announces.

And what a relief that is.

"T-thank you so much," I say, rushing up to him to give him a tight hug. He clears his throat, and for a moment, I forget that I'm still in my towel and very, very wet .

"Oh, my god. Sorry," I say, gripping my towel like my life depends on it.

As his gaze intensifies, I feel a flutter of something unfamiliar in my chest. I try to brush it off, chalking it up to the adrenaline of the situation, but his proximity and the way his eyes linger on me make it hard to ignore.

"You're welcome," he says, his voice low and husky. "Just glad I could help."

It is now that I notice he's in gym gear—black shorts, a tank top, and Nike sneakers. A film of sweat marks his skin, and his tank top clings to him, outlining every ridge of his pecs and abdomen, where I know that six-pack is hiding. The mood around us changes. The air that was once cool, now warm, warming up my skin, my cheeks.

As he steps closer, the air between us seems to crackle with an electric intensity. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, my breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. His eyes are dark and intense, boring into mine with a hunger that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I'm... I'm glad you called me," he admits .

He is?

"I couldn't think of anyone else," I say softly. His eyes soften for a moment, as if he can understand my thoughts. Bradley takes another step closer, and I decide to bite the bullet.

"You never called? I just... after last weekend, after we…" My voice trails off, and I swallow, watching his expression. "I just thought you'd text me," I say, my voice almost a whisper.

"I wanted to. Fuck, believe me, I did," he confesses, his gaze unwavering.

I frown softly. "Well, why didn't you?"

"I-I don't know. I needed time to process it all," he says, his voice gravelly.

"But... you kissed me. What did you need to process?"

The tension between us is palpable, the air thick with desire. His gaze is intense, his proximity even more intoxicating. I can feel my heart racing, my breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

"I don't even know," he says, shaking his head. He stops talking, and I wait, realising he's stuck in thought. His brows are furrowed, eyes distant. I study him, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity.

Why is he always so stuck in his head?

"What are you thinking right now?" I ask, probably a little too abruptly.

He looks stumped. "Right now?"

"Yes, Brad. Right now." I lean in slightly, my eyes searching his face. I can see the conflict in his eyes, and it intrigues me. What's going on in that head of his? Why does he always seem so distant, yet so present?

"I'm thinking that you should get changed," he says, glancing at the towel clutched tightly between my hands.

Oh crap. The towel. Why haven't I changed yet? This is so awkward. One wrong move and it'll slip. Would I let that happen? Should I?

"Why?" I question, my voice shaky.

"Because it's fucking distracting," he admits, his voice low and filled with restraint. "And I'm trying really hard not to do something that I know I won't be able to stop."

His words send a chill down my spine, the hairs on my arm shooting straight up. Please do, I plead in my head. God, I want nothing more than for him to kiss me.

He moves closer, his eyes dark, the once shade of blue now almost black, his pupils dilated. He leans in, his breathing sharp, and I watch his chest rise and fall. My gaze shifts from his lips back to his eyes. Bradley towers over me, forcing me to tilt my head upward to meet his intense gaze.

Just when I think he's going to kiss me, he doesn't. "We can't keep doing this."

Disappointment washes over me in full force. I can almost feel my shoulders slump, the weight of his rejection heavy and confusing. I nod slowly, having no choice but to understand and go with it, even though I don't really understand. He's right, of course. We shouldn't be doing this.

"Okay, sorry. I'll go get changed and walk you out," I say, plastering on a smile before heading into my room. I change in record time—seconds, really. I don't want to risk him leaving before I get to say goodbye.

In my haste, I stub my toe on the corner of my bed and scream out, "Ouch, cheese and crackers!" I curse out loud, the silly words escaping before I can stop them.

I guess old habits die hard.

"You right?" Bradley's voice comes from near the door, and relief washes over me to know that he's still here.

"Yep. Coming out," I say, quickly giving my foot a rub before joining him outside.

"Cheese and crackers?" he teases with a smile. "No more swearing?"

I blush deeply and roll my eyes. "No, those are only saved for serious moments." I fiddle with my ring, my fingers tugging at the hem nervously.

Bradley's voice grabs my attention. "Would you maybe like to go out to dinner?"

I freeze, panicking momentarily. "When? Now?" I blurt out.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "No, sometime soon, maybe?"

How can this man be so confusing? Is this how all men are? Sheesh. One minute he's saying ‘we shouldn't do this' and the next he's asking me out to dinner. Maybe just as... friends.

I can work with that.

"Like a... date?" I ask softly, my heart pounding in my chest. Bradley's smile falters for a moment, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head.

"Well, it can be whatever you'd like it to be."

"I'd love that," I respond, the words slipping out before I even have a chance to consider them. There's no need for consideration, though; this feels right.

"Okay," he replies, his voice slightly hoarse. "I'll text you soon to figure out the details."

As he heads toward the door, I trail behind to show him out. Opening it, I pause, a sudden urge pulling at me.

"Bradley?" I call out, and he turns back to me, his eyes searching mine.

I stutter slightly but manage a, "Thank you for, um, coming so quickly when I called." I honestly thought he wouldn't answer, but for him to actually show up, I was completely surprised. His eyes soften for a moment, and he falters, as if he's pondering what to say.

"I'll always be there when you need me," he says, his voice holding a deep, unwavering certainty, yet carrying a softer, more meaningful note. It's not a question of if, but when. His words wash over me, enveloping me in a comforting warmth.

This means something, right? It has to.

"Night, sunshine," he adds, and I feel a rush of warmth at the use of that nickname.

"Make sure all your windows and doors are closed and locked," he reminds me as he closes the door behind him.

"Okay. Goodnight," I whisper, watching him leave. Leaning against the door, I let out a sigh, feeling a whirlwind of nerves.

"I need tea. No, I need something stronger," I mutter to myself, making my way to the cupboard in search of a bottle of wine.

Tonight has left me with so much to think about.

It's finally Friday, a relief in itself. I'm on lunch duty today, basking in the sun while a refreshing breeze plays with my hair. Despite the warmth, I wrap my cardigan tighter around me for comfort. From my vantage point overseeing the playground, a group of year six girls approaches me, their mischievous grins immediately raising red flags in my mind. These girls are notorious—always causing a stir, testing the limits with their teachers. I brace myself, knowing their reputation well.

"Hey, Miss Brown," Kellie, always the blunt one, starts, innocently enough.

"Hi, girls," I reply cautiously, not having any inclination where this conversation may be headed.

"Do you know Bradley Mitchell?" Kellie asks, curiosity tingling in her voice. Well, crap. It definitely wasn't that. Why would she be asking?

"Uh, I do. How do you know Bradley Mitchell?" I counter, my curiosity piqued.

Kellie shakes her head. "I don't. But I do know he's a police officer."

"Everyone knows that, Kellie," Briony retorts, her tone dismissive. "Anyway, soo , my sister Dahlia told me he came to visit you," she says, air-quoting the word visit and raising her eyebrows playfully.

Heat rises to my cheeks at their teasing. "Uh, yes, he did. And?" I respond firmly, meeting Briony's gaze head-on.

"Well, why would he be hanging around you? I mean, isn't he, like, important or something?" Briony asks casually, her tone laced with scepticism. "And aren't you kind of... like, a loner?"

Her little friends giggle at her words, and I furrow my brows in surprise.

Being called out by an eleven-year-old. Ouch.

I am a loner in a sense, yes. But maybe not to the extent she's implying.

"Because we're friends, and what makes you think I'm a loner?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Well, you're always by yourself," she retorts, her smirk widening. "I never see you with anyone else, just off doing your own thing."

I can't help but inwardly roll my eyes.

Is that it?

Children these days just have too much confidence. What she's trying to gain out of this conversation, I'll never know, but who cares?

"First of all, Briony, I'm not a loner," I retort, my voice stronger than I expected. "Secondly, I do have friends, and thirdly, it's none of your business why he would be hanging around," I say with a smile .

Briony narrows her eyes at me, but I continue, not backing down.

" Especially not the business of an eleven-year-old."

She steps closer, her hand on her hip, trying to assert dominance. "I'm twelve ," she corrects me with a smirk.

"Same, same," I reply with a nonchalant shrug, flipping my hair over my shoulder. The girls exchange surprised glances, caught off guard by my unexpected assertiveness.

Probably not used to being challenged, Briony huffs with attitude, "Whatever."

The other girls exchange disappointed looks, realising they won't get the gossip they were hoping for. As they disperse, their interest wanes, leaving me with a mix of relief and pride. It's not easy standing up to older kids, especially those with a reputation like theirs.

But I did it.

And strangely, I feel liberated, as if I've proven something to myself.

I glance around the bustling playground, filled with the chaotic energy of children at play. Perhaps dealing with older kids wouldn't be so daunting after all. Yet, for now, I'm content with my kindergarteners—they may be small, but they teach me resilience and courage every day.

As for those girls, maybe they've learned a lesson, too. Not everyone is willing to be pushed around, regardless of age.

And as for Bradley, well, maybe he'd be proud of me standing my ground.