The 40-Page Story That Wouldn't Leave My Head. 48 Hours, One Dream, and a Bonus Chapter.
One Saturday, I had a dream. Over the next two days, I wrote it down, and by midweek, I published it.
How crazy is that?
Anyone who knows me knows "crazy" is my middle name. When I'm inspired, things happen fast.
The story opens in a car with Cora and Liam. Liam is her childhood best friend who vanished from her life for years. It’s a short, 40-page, completely consuming story, and I still think about it every single day. You know those 600-page books you finish and immediately forget once you hit "The End"? This isn't one of them. It's a short story that could easily become a great movie. I can see it clearly, and I wish you could too.
As I wrote, I didn't fully realize what was unfolding until days later when it hit me hard. Maybe if I had overthought it, I would have written a different ending, but that's the beauty of a writer's mind: showing others what you see.
Some readers who read it asked me what actually happened the moment Cora and Liam saw each other for the first time after all those years. So, I decided to write it down.
Here is a bonus chapter for you to read.
I’m a fool for having agreed to this.
I’m a fool. A complete fool.
What on earth was I thinking?
The handle of my yellow suitcase is slick, sliding in my palm because my hands are sweating like hell. The humid air of the arrival terminal clings to my skin, making every breath feel heavy. Every few steps, the wheel on my suitcase catches on a gap in the tile, sending a sharp jerk up my arm that matches the frantic rhythm in my chest.
Would I even recognize Liam?
My heart squeezes so hard in my chest that it’s difficult to draw air. Standing with my suitcase in hand, I look around, trying to find him. It feels as if death itself is coming to claim me because I didn’t realize how hard this would be.
My trembling body is completely out of my control. I take deep, slow breaths, hoping to soothe my anxiety, but I can’t.
I simply can’t.
I keep spinning around, half-hoping he isn’t here. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe he changed his mind.
“Cora.”
The voice calling my name hits me like an arrow straight to the target.
My heart stops.
I swear it does, right before it starts hammering painfully against my already bruised ribs.
My eyes find him.
I see him.
I see Liam, my best friend. It has to be him, because his gaze locks onto mine with such intensity it feels as if he’s touching my soul.
He takes one step, then another, until he is only inches away. His eyes sparkle in the light like bright green emeralds, and I’m hypnotized by the way he looks at me. All the surrounding airport noise fades, swallowed up by the bubble I’ve built around us. I want to throw myself into his arms. I missed him so damn much.
He isn’t a boy anymore.
Not a boy at all.
He is tall, so much taller than me. The light catches the sharp lines of his jawline and collarbone like a highlight on a canvas. I stare at him as if he’s a masterpiece, and I’m the only one allowed to take a closer look.
“Hi,” he mumbles.
I gasp softly at the sound of his voice. So familiar, yet completely new.
“Hi.” My voice is raspy, and I swallow hard to clear my throat.
“I hope your flight went well,” he says gently, his gaze keeping me chained in place. I feel as if I can’t move a single muscle until he allows it.
“Yes, all good. Thank you!” I force a confident tone, even though I can feel the pieces of myself scattering all around us.
I notice him hesitate, fighting against his own instincts, looking as if he wants to reach out but stops himself.
“Let me take your suitcase,” he offers, extending his arm.
“No!” I shout in sudden desperation.
He freezes, confusion washing over his face. I feel so stupid.
Glancing down at the handle, I just want to make sure it isn't wet from my sweating palms. God, I hate this. It happens every time I’m nervous, and it’s humiliating. Pulling the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand, I grab the handle through the fabric and push it toward him, trying to erase any evidence of my panic.
He takes it, his eyes never leaving mine. When he finally turns and gestures for me to follow, our eye contact breaks, and it feels as if a piece of my soul has been torn away. I have never felt like this in my life. The power he holds over me is terrifying. Maybe it’s just the shock of not seeing each other for so long, or maybe the emotions are simply overflowing.
I don’t know.
I truly don’t know.
I follow him outside toward the parking lot like a helpless puppy. As he walks ahead of me, I take the chance to study his broad shoulders and his messy dark hair. His legs are long and lean, and I can’t believe this is the same boy who used to be shorter than me. His scent, subtle and warm, drifts through the air. I inhale involuntarily, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, until I crash right into his solid back. He turns.
A hand instantly catches my wrist, as I stumble back. It’s Liam.
Liam is holding my wrist, touching me.
He stopped abruptly, and I bumped right into him. Will I ever stop embarrassing myself?
“I’m so sorry. I… I…” What am I even supposed to say? That I was staring at him from behind?
“It’s fine,” he says softly.
His eyes bore into mine again, pulling me in like a magnet. His grip remains firm around my wrist.
“This is my car,” he says, his gaze shifting to the side. I follow his look as if under a spell.
Slowly, he releases me and steps back. Opening the trunk, he lifts my suitcase inside while I stand there like an idiot, feeling like a nervous twelve-year-old. I’m a grown woman. I should be confident, indifferent even. He never wrote.
He never called. Yet here I am, looking at him with wide eyes, desperate for his touch.
Liam slams the trunk shut, but he doesn't move. He stands right there, staring at me. His jaw clenches, his hands curl into fists, and then…
He jolts forward, closing the distance in a fraction of a second, and wraps his strong arms around me.
I melt into his chest. He feels solid, his skin warm from the sun, his heart galloping at light speed against my cheek. His fingers sink deep into my hair and press into my back, pulling me in so tightly it takes my breath away.
“I missed you, Cora,” he whispers.
The words hit my heart like a dagger. For years, I waited to hear those exact words, but they never came. Now, a volcano erupts inside me, rushing through my veins so fast I think I might go into shock. It’s Liam. My Liam.
It feels so unnaturally good, as if we belong together, like finding a missing piece I lost a long time ago. I don’t want to let go.
When he starts to pull away, my fingers cling tightly to his T-shirt, refusing to release him. I feel like if I let go, whatever fragile tape is holding my broken heart together will snap.
Eventually, I have no choice. Pulling away from him feels like skinning myself alive. It’s painful and agonizing. One of his hands rests on my waist while the other moves to my face. His knuckles barely brush my cheek, and like a starved cat, my head follows the movement, desperate for his touch. I close my eyes, my lips parting. The sensation is unreal.
He studies my face, his breathing shallow, and I melt like a snowflake in the palm of a warm hand.
“We should go,” he breathes out.
I lean forward almost imperceptibly, as if trying to swallow his words. How stupid of me. But around him, I become that same weak, helpless girl I used to be.
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