Waiting For Sunday

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{thirty}

“Is this the last one?”

“Last what?”

“Last box?”

“I think so,”

Smiling I walk back into the kitchen, watching as Oliver almost trips over this own feet as he carries the biggest of the boxes left behind, ready to put on the removal truck.

“How can one person have so much junk?”

“Excuse me,” I smirk, “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure,”

“Sunday— how does this Captain America mug constitute treasure?”

“I believe— in the words of Ant-Man, Captain America has the best ass and it’s not just his ass, but it's America’s ass!” I smile, lifting the mug out of the box, beaming down at the picture of Chris Evans in his Captain America uniform.

“Something I should know?”

“What about?”

“Well would you like me to get you and Chris Evans— sorry Captain America a room?” He smirks back.

“Oh I wish you would,” I chuckle admiring the cup for a couple more seconds and then placing it back in the box. He shakes his head and turns, carefully walking out to the removal truck outside as I roll my eyes.

The house had been on the market a month and within that time, it had had two potential new owners and they fought, I mean really fought for the house and luckily for me, they ended up having a bidding war, and I’d walked away with a tidy profit.

The studio was doing well, taking on new clients all the time and since Oliver and I were moving in together, we sat down and talked to Amy, who had news of her own. She and Amalia had decided that they wanted to live together, so we would have the apartment to ourselves.

Biting my lip, I packed away the last of the books from the living room and scooped up the box, goosebumps rising on my skin as a photo falls to the floor. As I pick it up, I see a naked body, partially covered by sheets and realise this was taken a couple of weeks back.

Oliver had been asleep after a long and tiring and stressful day at work and it had left him exhausted, but while he slept soundly I could’t resist capturing him in almost all his glory. I remember how his muscles moved under his skin, the veins on his forearms, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept peacefully.

I still could’t believe that he was mine—, all mine.

After everything I’d been through with all the men I’d dated, Oliver was the only one who’d stuck around, and had been just as serious about me as I was him.

My mind suddenly switches to thoughts of Jake. We hadn’t spoken much since I’d last seen him, but he’d been busy with work and a case which had kept him busy, he’d told me a few weeks back. I press my lips into a thin line and remind myself to ring him to see how he is. Hoping that he was ok, and that he wasn’t too stressed. I still cared about him, and I meant what I’d said when I told him that that night.

“Sun?”

“Yeah?”

“You almost done?” Oliver shouts from the front door.

“Yeah— I think so,” I call back, smiling when I see him walk back towards me.

“Definitely?”

With one last quick look, I nod and smile as he scoops up the last box and carries it out. I stand alone in the living room and look around at my first home in Seattle. I’d miss it, but it was time for a new family to make it their home.

With a deep breath, I close the front door behind me, resting my hand against the glass for just a second before taking the steps for the final time and make my way towards the truck.

“Ok?”

“Yep,” I reply and smile as Oliver pulls down the shutter door at the back of the truck. With one last quick glance of the house, I climb into the cab of the truck and pull on my seatbelt, lowering the window as Oliver climbs into the drivers side.

Pulling away from my first home, I wipe at my cheek, swiping at the tear that had escaped without my knowing and watch as it disappears in the side mirror.

“You ok over there?”

“Yeah— I’m good,” I smile with a nod.


“Again— how can one person have so much junk?”

“I swear to god Oliver if you call my belongings junk one more time, I won’t move in with you,” I scoff playfully, swiping at his arm. He ducks out of the way but leans in, puckering his lips as the elevator stops and the doors open but I push my splayed hand playfully in his face.

“Nope, no kisses for you,” I giggle as I take what feels like the thousandth box and push open our apartment door with my foot. Sighing as I walk inside, I grimace at the sheer amount of brown recycled boxes littering the apartment.

“Only a couple more,” I hear Oliver’s voice call out from behind the box in his arms.

“Hope so, my back aches,” I whine.

After another couple of trips, we bring up the final boxes and then take the truck back to the rental company, then head out for dinner. We sit in the window of one of the many Chinese restaurants and watch as rain begins to fall, bringing a smile to my face when I think back to the first date Oliver and I had had.

“What you smiling about?”

“Oh— nothing,” I smile, pushing noodles into my mouth.

“So listen— I was thinking,”

“Did it hurt?”

Very funny,” Oliver replies, his eyes narrowing as I blow a kiss towards him, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

“Can you get a few days off work?”

“Well I am the boss,” I murmur as I push another mouthful of noodles in.

“I know, but I figured I’d ask,”

“Why?” I ask, my eyes narrowing just a little as I finish my mouthful.

“Because—, I want to go away for a few days and I want you to come with me, being my girlfriend and all,” he smiles back.

“Oh Oliver—,” I begin as I shake my head, “I’m not sure,”

“You’re coming,” he assures me, “I’ve already checked with Mali and Beth, they’ve agreed to look after the studio while I whisk you away,” he grins now, looking completely and utterly smug with himself.

I take a minute to think about it. I haven’t been on holiday in well— forever and now here I was, sitting across from the most hopelessly romantic man and I’m questioning whether I should go or not.

Get. A. Grip.

“Ok,” I nod as I scoop up the last of the pork in my noodles.

“Ok?” He repeats, raising a brow.

“Ok,”

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