While You're Awake (6 page)

Her eyes fluttered open.
“Angel Boy?” Her voice was breathless.

“Go back to sleep, Tired
Girl. I’ve got to get back to my apartment, but I’ll see you later.” He gave
her a peck on the forehead and straightened.

She smiled at him as her
lids drooped low and she rolled onto her side. “See ya at the coffee shop,” she
murmured.

“You know it.”

She was once again fast
asleep as he walked out the door, heart full.

Keegan asked me out a
few days ago, after I awoke from the deepest sleep of my life. I showed up at
the coffee shop around three in the afternoon, wearing a rose-patterned dress
one of my aunts had sewn for me as last year’s Christmas present. It reminded
me of Keegan now, and our walk in the rose garden.

I didn’t even bother
stopping at the front counter. I just found my way to my usual spot. Sure
enough, Keegan came. It was the cutest thing, the way he presented me with a
dark chocolate mochaccino and a piece of baklava—drizzled with honey, of all
things! And only a minute after he walked away from the table, my phone buzzed
with a text message.

[Angel Boy]: Wanna go
somewhere with me?

I glanced up and
spotted him leaning against the front counter, out of the way of customers but
boldly absorbed with his phone.

[Tired Girl]: Um, aren’t
you working?

[Angel Boy]: Is that a
no?

[Tired Girl]: Of course
not. Don’t mind me. Responsibility is highly overrated.

I waited for his smirk
and wasn’t disappointed, even though his eyes never left the little screen in
his hands.

[Angel Boy]: I’ve always
thought so. My shift’s over in fifteen minutes. Meet me by the truck?

[Tired Girl]: Only if Sun
and Moon are there.

[Angel Boy]: Ouch. Don’t
you like me for me and not just for my dogs?

I looked up again and
found his gaze on me. There was a smile among the bit of scruff on his
face—maybe from not having time to shave in the morning—but I could see
something else there, too. I recognized it right away.

Fear.

Not full-grown, but a
seed that could grow into a choking weed someday. Not that he couldn’t
eradicate it with help. But all I had to do right then was scoop that seed up
and blow it far away.

So I did.

[Tired Girl]: I like you
for your dogs, but I love you for you.

It was risky. To be
the first one to say it. To take a step of faith into a future that already
looked very different from my former days of unending me-time and solitude. But
I don’t remember ever feeling so brave or sure as I did when I hit the “send”
button.

Before I could see the
response in his expression, a customer walked over to him and asked him a
question. Keegan got back to work and I sat at my little table for two, taking
sips of my slowly cooling drink and waiting.

When 3:30 finally
came, I carried my dishes to the basin by the counter and walked out into the
sunshine. Keegan’s truck was parked a few feet away, and I spotted the dogs’
crates in the back. Just as I arrived at the passenger’s door, my phone
vibrated in my pocket.

[Angel Boy]: I love you
too.

I turned, and there he
stood before me, apron gone and a basket dangling from his fingers. I smiled up
at him, shoulders relaxing. “What’s in the basket?”

“An early dinner. Or
more like breakfast for you, really.” He passed the basket over to me and
walked around the front of the truck to the driver’s side. As I opened my door
and slid in, I caught his wink.

I felt a blush rising
in response. “When did you have time to pick up food?”

He started the truck
and pulled out of the parking space. “During my lunch break. Thought it would
be good to make sure you eat well now that you’ve had a good night’s sleep.” He
paused, drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. “Or would that be ‘a good
day’s sleep’?”

I swatted his arm, but
the gesture was rendered ineffective by my laugh.

We ended up picnicking
in the wild grass outside my house, eating our fill of sandwiches, chips, and
grapes. Then we played fetch with Sun and Moon—stealing kisses from each other
while the dogs engaged in a game of tug of war and the bees went merrily about
their way in the distance.

We’re going on another
date tonight—a double date with his aunt and beekeeper uncle.

These past few nights
I’ve slept better than I have in a long time. I’ve even had some happy dreams
involving mochaccino lakes and a rose garden of my very own.

But isn’t it lovely how
many wonderful things can happen while you’re awake?

I came home from getting
my hair cut and grocery shopping one day to find my apartment had been invaded.
I stepped through the door and registered an odd buzzing sound before my
horrified gaze was drawn to a wall of honey bees cascading up and down one of
my living room windows.

Perhaps “wall” is a bit
of an exaggeration, but there were enough of them crawling up the window,
falling back down, and crawling up again to freak me out. (Of course, just one
bee would have caused a similar, albeit slightly less terrified, reaction.)

I stood in the doorway
with my heart drumming in my chest. I stepped as close as I dared to try to
determine whether or not they were on the outside or on the inside.

Yep, they were inside.

I tried contacting my
landlady first, then frantically called a friend to see if I could stay the
night with her, because I sure as goodness wasn’t going to stay with the bees!

My landlady was able to
come over pretty quickly, and she took out part of the window and the screen so
that she could shoo the weary bees out where they belonged.

But that wasn’t the last
I saw of the bees. A couple more found their way in through the stove vent at
different times, and it bothered me to no end when I could hear the buzzing,
knowing I wasn’t really safe from further invasion.

Things have settled down
now—hoping they stay that way!

I wish I could say that I
always did the right thing in finding a way to set the bees free. But I’ve grown
to respect them more and more, and when I first started writing this story, it
helped to channel my not-so-happy experience into something bigger than my
lonely fears. I feel like it allowed me to put things into perspective—while
also prompting me to start collecting bee paraphernalia. *wink*

While the bee incident in
the book was inspired by a true story, and the romance and various plot
elements were inspired by the
Sleeping Beauty
fairy tale, this is indeed
a work of fiction. I hope it imparted some real hope and encouragement to you,
though. Thank you so much for reading!

Once again, many thanks to
Anne Elisabeth Stengl, whose fairy-tale contests continue to inspire me to try
my hand at re-imagining beloved stories; Rachelle Rea, who has edited my work
and is
still
willing to edit more (you rock!); and Lena Goldfinch, who
encourages, advises, and designs covers like no other. Grateful for you all!

Heartfelt thanks also go
to my two beta readers, Kara of
Flowers of Quiet Happiness
and Rissi of
Dreaming Under the Same Moon
,
for being insightful readers, awesome friends, and sweet encouragers; Breeana
Puttroff and all my fellow word-sprinters on Twitter who give me the motivation
I need to push through the word count; and my family, for supporting me in
every dream I pursue and every new season of life.

And to the lovely landlady
who saved me from the bees…thank you ever so much for coming to my rescue that
day!

Amber Stokes
works
as a marketing content writer for a Christian publisher. On the side, she
self-publishes inspirational fiction depicting the seasons of life and love.
Her passion for books compelled her to earn a bachelor’s degree in English and
run her own freelance editing and publicity business for over a year. Happily,
this chapter of her career takes place in the Pacific Northwest—a part of the
world she’s always considered home.

You can learn more about
Amber’s books, sign up for her author newsletter, join the Amber’s Gems street
team, and more at
www.SeasonsofaStory.blogspot.com
.

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book, please consider leaving a review online. Thank you!