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Heaven is brown, but not dirty brown, not dark, not muddy; It's that chocolate brown that melts your senses, bright, stable, and sweetly accompanied by creamy caramel. Heaven is like a Twix. I knew it as soon as I opened the door that morning and his eyes led me straight to paradise.
That my mouth hadn't stayed as open as my eyes would have helped to maintain my dignity at the time, but I couldn't help it; As soon as I met that gaze, I lost track of time and space. I could only lose myself in that feeling of peace and warmth that I knew would catch me forever.
“Miss Anna Delle?”
“Yes? Oh! Yeah, it’s me.”
“I have a package for you.”
“Oh! It's already here?! That was fast!”
“If you leave me a signature here, it's yours.”
“Sure.”
Then I realized. His gaze wasn't the only addictive thing about him. His big and strong body, his shiny, silky, and a little disheveled hair, his robust but kind features, his discreet smile, his sensual voice... That imposing blonde brought his little machine closer to me and I approached him feeling minuscule. His huge hand was holding the device tightly, but I needed to hold it myself to gain the necessary steadiness to put my signature on such a small screen, so I looked up, apologized awkwardly, and rested my hand on his.
Bad done.
The moment our skin came into contact, an immense heat passed through my palm and ran through my body from end to end; my fingers tightened and so did his. I looked up at his face, fearing to meet the expression of horror of someone who feels stalked, and yet I found his eyebrows arched in surprise, his shoulders tense, his lips tight, and his rosy cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, I…”
“No. Don't worry, I get it. This machine is uncomfortable for me too…”
He gave me a kind smile that led my mind and my guts to what I could do with him in some more intimate place in the house, and I noticed that my hand was still holding his. I hastened to scribble my signature as best I could and withdrew my hands feeling the cold return painfully to them.
“Here it is, Miss Delle.”
“You can address informally to me,” I babbled as I took my package. “You already have my name and my address, it's weird that you talk to me address me like Miss, isn't it? It's like I'm some old, stiff, single woman. Wait, what nonsense am I talking about? Just ignore me, please. Have a nice day, and thank you.”
“Uh… Same to you.”
Then he took a couple of steps back and I figured if I didn't want things to get even weirder, it was time to close the door.
“Wait, Anna, don't close. I'm coming in.”
Too bad that voice was not that of heaven made man but of hell disguised as a person.
“Hans? What are you doing here?”
“Who’s that?”
“The delivery man; he just delivered a package to me.”
“I hope you are saying it literally.”
I could see out of the corner of my eye how the delivery man frowned at Hans' nasty words, although I must admit I wouldn't have been bothered if it had been real in a more figurative sense as well.
“Let's go inside, sweetheart. We have things to talk about.”
“Hans, I’m not…”
‘Don't fuck around, Hans; not in front of him.’
“Bye, boy,” Hans said dismissing the man of my dreams as if he were a teenager with a slam of the door.
“He could be your age, how can you call him a boy?”
“He works delivering packages, he seems just a boy.”
I sighed resigned. I hated the idea that the delivery man could have gotten hold of us, but it wasn't that I was ever going to see him again, anyway.
“What do you want to talk about, Hans? I thought I had made it all clear to you…”
“I'm going to speak clearly to you, Anna. I want you to abandon this dumb idea,” he said disdainfully kicking my package that was waiting on the ground to be deflowered. “and that you marry me.”
…
Three days later, as in Chicken little, a star fell in front of my door.
It was a windy morning, and I was waiting for the delivery truck with my head sticking out of the window. I couldn't wait. A few minutes ago an email had arrived telling me that the new package was in delivery and I was burning to find out if the delivery man would be the man from the other day again.
And there he was. Pulling my package out of the side of the truck like it was stuffed with feathers. I swallowed hard. I couldn't believe I was going to be lucky enough to see him again. I took a deep breath taking advantage of one of those cool November gusts and opened my eyes ready to conquer the world. Too bad the only thing that I ended up conquering was some grit that decided to get into my eye.
The doorbell rang and I ran to open it while aggressively rubbing my eye.
As I opened the door a few seconds later, a genuinely worried face invaded my field of vision.
“Anna… you okay? Do you need something? Can I help you?”
What was he talking about?
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Ah, oh… I…” he began to rub the back of his neck shyly and my heart melted with tenderness. “It had seemed to me that you were crying.”
“Me?”
Then, I noticed my current look and understood the situation.
“Ohhh… because of this?” I asked pointing to my face.
He nodded.
“Don't worry, I just got something in my eye and it's getting irritated from rubbing. I feel fine, thank you.”
“Glad to hear that,” he replied regaining his composure.
“Is that package for me?” I asked with the wide smile that his interest in my well-being had just provoked in me.
“Uh? Oh! Yes, of course, here. I mean, I need your signature, you know.”
I nodded and walked back to his awkward device. He gallantly withdrew his hand to allow me to hold it without putting us in an awkward situation and I clumsily left there my signature and a couple of tears that were on my finger just upon the screen.
He looked thoughtfully at the machine and I realized that it could have been damaged by my carelessness.
“Sorry, I haven't noticed. Does it still work?”
He looked up and stared at me. I felt like I was sucked into him. Too bad to have to see it with just one eye…
“Ehrm… Do you want me to give it a look?” he asked hesitantly.
“To what?”
“To your eye.”
“Oh… really? Uhm… okay.”
‘If my heart endures this, it will endure anything in this life.’
My blond, I mean, the blond, leaned over me and carefully parted my lids. His face was fascinatingly close to mine, and his breath washed over me like a warm spring breeze.
“I think I can see it. Do you want me to try with a tissue? I don't think my hands are clean enough.”
“Oh, okay, I’m going to get a…”
“No need, I got a pack here.”
I foolishly giggled at the joke that I didn't know if he had voluntarily made and he looked at me with a questioning smile and a lowered eyebrow making it clear that it wasn't a joke. Then he took out a clean tissue, folded it gently, and held my face by the chin with a tenderness that made me shiver down to my knees.
“Hold still for a moment; I don't want to hurt you.”
‘I don’t think you can.’
I tried to fight my self-preservation instinct and not close my eye as he held that tissue toward me. But it was a losing battle, so I decided the best thing to do was focus on his eyes so as not to think of my own. His gaze of concentration, his slightly closed eyelids, his thick lashes, his thick, furrowed eyebrows… By the time I wanted to realize it, he was pulling away with a satisfied smile.
“Got it! Have I hurt you?”
“Not at all. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
We both looked at each other for a few seconds until footsteps were heard down the stairs bringing us back to reality.
“Ah! Your package. Here.”
I took up my package making sure my fingertips subtly landed on his and sighed dejectedly aware that it was time to say goodbye.
“Have a nice day, Anna.”
“Same to you.”
A new, broader smile later, he turned his back on me and headed briskly for the stairs. I should have closed, but I wasn't about to miss the image of his broad back and his firm butt showing off uniform.
‘He called me Anna.’
…
“Will you tell me your name?”
Two weeks later, the hero who had saved my eye from a potentially terrible and deep scratch knocked on my door again.
“Sorry?”
“You know mine. It's only fair, isn't it?”
His surprised face soon turned into a cheeky smirk.
“Kristoff. I’m Kristoff.”
“Nice to meet you again, Kristoff,” I said, holding out my hand, eager to feel his worked skin on mine again.
“Same here, Anna.”
Kristoff shook my hand firmly but carefully and a chill ran down my spine.
“Do you got something for me?”
“Two packages at once.”
‘Shit, they came together. That means he won't be coming in a few days…’
“Thanks.”
“It’s my job,” he shrugged. “Could you give me your autograph?”
“I guess I can do it, but don't tell my fans.”
He chuckled at my ridiculous way of playing along with him as he removed his hand from the edge of the device again, and then I saw it: a little piece of cardboard tangled up the side of his bangs. I probably should have asked, but it didn't even occur to me: when I realized it, his dilated pupils were piercing me as my hand was stroking his hair.
“I, uh… You had this,” I said showing him the piece of cardboard with an apologetic grin.
“Oh, err… thank you.”
His blush became as evident as mine and the feeling of haste took possession of us, so I quickly signed for the package and he handed it to me and left with a simple "See you."
‘I hope so…’
…
That was not being a good morning, and there was no human way to hide it before opening the door.
“An eyelash?” he asked with a mocking smile when he saw me appear.
I was unable to answer. I just burst out crying inconsolably in front of him making his sexy smile disappear and calling back to his worried face.
“Anna! What's the matter? Are you alright?”
I shook my head and launched myself at his chest.
He didn't move an inch. He just respectfully placed his hands on my shoulders and let me cry my sorrows on his shirt until I managed to calm down.
“I’m sorry. You were working, and I…”
“Hey, don't worry about my job. Nothing happens if I arrive a little later. Anyway, who expects a delivery actually arriving on time?” he said caressing my cheek with more tenderness than I had ever received. “Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, it’s Hans…”
“Your… boyfriend? The one of the other day?” he said letting out the obvious annoyance in his tone.
“Yes, that one. But he’s not my boyfriend.”
“He isn’t?”
“No… We only worked together until recently. He is my father's assistant.”
“And… has he hurt you?” he asked in a more whispery tone and tensing his hands.
“No… The thing is…”
At that moment, the neighbor two doors away, opened his door and headed for the elevator.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Can you sign here, please?” Kristoff asked, saving the silence.
“Sure.”
He withdrew his hand as usual and I signed the pickup.
“Here is your package.”
“Thank you.”
I took the package and finally the elevator door closed.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked in a whisper.
I bit my lip at his proposal. If he was asking me if I wanted him to leave, wasn't he offering to stay?
“Do you want to come in?” I whispered back.
“Do you want me to?”
“Please.”
He nodded and crossed the threshold of my door to stop right on the other side awaiting instructions. I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath. He was at my house! I'd swear it was being a bad morning, but all of a sudden it seemed like the best morning ever.
I led him into the living room and offered him a seat.
“You want a drink?”
“I can’t, I'm working.”
“You are?”
“In theory, at least…”
“Okay,” I said laughing.
I sat next to him on the couch, rested my hands on my thighs, and looked up at the ceiling.
“Hans wants me to marry him.”
“Oh… And… what do you want?”
‘You!’
“I want to be a luthier.”
“What?”
“I want to make instruments.”
“I know what a luthier is. What I can't see is the connection between that and your possible marriage.”
“My father is the owner of a record company. I have worked for him for a few years, and thanks to that, I have ended up meeting musicians who made their own instruments. Do you know when suddenly one day you see something that you have never seen before and you have no doubt that you want it for yourself?”
“I can picture it, yes…”
“Well, that happened to me. I quit my job and went to a workshop to learn, but my father wants me to come back. He says there is no future in the profession I've chosen; that that is what the machines are for. The fact is that he threatened the owner of the workshop and I am no longer allowed to study there.”
“Isn’t that reportable?”
“Probably, but he has money enough to win any trial. No one is going to mess with him.”
“And what are you planning to do?”
“I won't budge an inch. Do you know what the packages you bring me are?”
He denied with his head.
“They are material. If I'm not taught in a workshop, I will learn by myself. He cannot threaten the entire Internet.”
“Your determination is admirable.”
“Yeah… but the materials are expensive, and my savings are falling. I don't know how long I will be able to maintain the situation.”
“And what has Hans to do with all of that?”
“He's made sure to convince my father that he is the perfect match for me and that if I marry him he will make sure to get me ‘on the right track’.”
“Is he in love with you? It doesn't sound like he appreciates you a lot…”
“He's in love with my heritage.”
“Oh…”
“The fact is that today my father called me to tell me that either I marry Hans, or I go back to the record company, or I'll get disinherited.”
Kristoff brushed his bangs from his face, visibly outraged.
“And… may I ask what are you gonna do?”
“Well, obviously, give up the inheritance. They will not decide my life for me. And maybe, in a few months, working in a fast food restaurant so as not to starve.”
We both laughed awkwardly at my joke in the obvious shadow of knowing that it might actually be fulfilled.
“You seem to be very clear about it. Because of how you were crying, I thought you would feel more cornered by the situation.”
“It's not like that. It's stress, you know? Hans has been haunting me since the day I met him, and I have a feeling that he will never disappear from my life. It is like a weight forever. I feel sad about my father's decision, but I already knew it would happen sooner or later, I know him well. It's Hans who pulls me down. He is always there, doing his best to make my life hard and offering himself as the only alternative.”
“Um… do you have his phone number?”
“Hans’? Yes, why?”
“Would you let me make a try?”
“What kind of try?”
“Can I send you a message?”
“To me?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you asking for my number?”
“I guess I am, yeah.”
I gave it to him. There was no need for doing tests for that, anyway, I would have given him my number without a second thought.
Then, he brought the microphone of the cell phone to his mouth and left me completely stunned.
“Listen to me, Hans or whatever your name is, I want you to leave Anna alone; I want you to get away from her life, I want you to disappear and not to hear from you again. She is not alone, I give her everything she needs, and I will continue to do so as long as she agrees. So, don't ever approach her again against her will or I'll make sure to give you what you're needing as well. It is clear?”
His threatening tone made my hair stand on end and, at the same time, made me want to take him to a larger and softer place. Although, realistically, the floor would do me just as well.
Then, he cut the audio, his gaze softened, and his tone returned to being sweet and serene; he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment and looked at me with his head slightly lowered.
“Too much? You can delete it if you want to. I just thought that he would leave you alone if he knew you had someone to lean on.”
“You give me all I need?” I asked with a teasing look.
“Don't I bring you each and every one of your packages?” he replied crossing his arms bathed in false arrogance.
“You're right. I have no reply for that.”
Could he be sweeter? Would he do something like that for anyone or was I special to him?
“I'll try my luck. Thanks for your help. I don't think he's going to disappear, but, at least, he'll think about it a bit more before coming back.”
“You can let me know if you need anything. Now you got my number.”
“Thank you, Kristoff.”
I hugged him again, tenderly and not desperately that time, and he hugged me back, placing his hands on my back and my waist and pressing me lightly against his chest.
“I think I should go back to work. I still have half a truck pending.”
“Yeah… I'm sorry I kept you entertained so much.”
“It was a pleasure.”
And as he came, he left, and I could only lean my back against the door and drop to the ground. My heart was racing and my face hurt from smiling so much.
…
I knew he wasn't going to write to me, much less call, but, even so, I kept my cellphone by my side even in the shower for the next two days.
I didn't get any signs of life from him, but at least since I sent that audio to Hans, I have not received them from Hans either.
It wasn't until the night of the second day, when a shrill voice yelling "Summer!" pulled me out of my dream driving my heart to my mouth. I picked up the cell phone that was waiting under my pillow, resting peacefully as if it hadn't just tried to kill me with a heart attack, and looked hopefully for proof that I meant something to him.
There it was. A simple message. A message that kept me awake for the rest of the night.
“Is it okay with you to make a video call early tomorrow? I got something to tell you.”
I didn't wait a minute. I had no intention of playing the interesting one.
“Say an hour and I'll be ready.”
The answer came instantly.
“Is seven-thirty too early?”
I wasn't going to sleep. Five in the morning would have seemed like the perfect time, too.
“Seven-thirty is fine.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow, then.”
“See you.”
If I wasn't going to sleep, I wasn't going to spend the night tossing and turning in bed freaking out until dawn. I could only do one thing: work! I spent the next six hours polishing that violin attempt that was causing me so much trouble. By the time I realized it, his call was coming in and I hadn't even combed my hair.
“Crap!”
I shook my head trying to rearrange my tangles so that they were concealed a bit and answered the call.
There he was, with clearly visible dark circles and already dressed to go to work, brightening my morning with his smile.
“Did you just get up?”
“Uh… more or less…”
Clearly, I had failed in my attempt to spruce up my hair.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you this as soon as possible.”
“No problem; I'm listening.”
“I’ve talked to some friends about you and how you are striving to be a luthier, and they have both placed an order of you.”
“What?”
‘Has he told them about me?’
“Olaf plays the piccolo, and has wanted a new one for a long time, but couldn't bring himself to look for it. So he's asked me to order you one to your liking.”
“But I… I'm still learning.”
“There is no rush. Besides, it's not like he's a professional either. He won't be very demanding. It's like a training job. If that's okay with you, of course.”
“And… the other?”
“Ah, Sven is a percussionist. He says that he would like you to make a djembe for him. I don't know if you want to specialize in something specific or…”
“Ah… I want to learn about everything, but I would like to work more with string instruments.”
“Oh… I would ask you for a lute, but I don't earn enough to pay for an artisan instrument.”
“You play the lute?”
“Yeah… Weird, isn’t it?”
For some reason, he seemed ashamed of his choice, but I was looking forward to a chance to see how his fingers handled the strings. Would he sing too?
“Original,” I replied trying to give him the confidence he lacked.
“Sure… So… Do you want time to think about it?”
“No! I want to do it! They are my first orders! Thank your friends, please. And, if you ask them if you can give me their numbers… it would be good to talk to agree on a price. Maybe, thanks to this, I can continue with my home practices for a longer time.”
“Done.”
“Thanks for everything, Kristoff.”
“Ehrm…”
Suddenly he looked away slightly as if he didn't dare to say what was on his mind.
“Did Hans bother you again?”
“Nope. Not once since I sent him your audio.”
“That’s good.”
“See you in a few days then? I have to ask for a few things.”
“I hope so.”
“Huh?”
“Uh… yeah. See you soon. Have a nice day.”
“Uh… Same to you.”
And, as if fleeing again, he hung up while rubbing the back of his neck vigorously.
…
Five days. Five more days until I saw his smile appear at my door again.
“Kristoff!” I exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Uh… hey.”
“I've talked to my father! I've called him and told him about the two requests I have and how I plan to get ahead without his help!”
“Oh. And… how did it go?”
“He laughed and congratulated me.”
“He did?”
“He told me that I passed the test. That he was making sure I had what I must to inherit his business. That rejecting Hans and getting by on my own despite all the complications he was giving me was the best thing I could have done and that now he is clear that I am his worthy heir: whether I work at the record company or not.”
“Wow… that’s…”
“Horrible!”
“What?”
“I've thanked him for helping me see what I am capable of and have given up on inheriting the company.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Who did he think he was playing with me like that?!”
A broad pride grin crossed his face as he offered me the signature machine while withdrawing his hand.
“Will you sign this? It seems that you will need this package.”
I beamed at him and signed with so much energy that I thought that time I would really break that thing.
"I don't think this is important, but… I'm proud of you,” he said with a soft thread of voice as he put the machine away.
“Thank you. See you in a few days?”
“Are you going to make more orders?”
“Maybe one more before the holidays. Do you work on Christmas Eve?”
“Only until noon.”
“Well, make sure mine is the last delivery.”
His face of incomprehension was quickly replaced by one of thought.
“Okay, I think I can do it.”
“See you, then. Now, I have work to do!”
“Okay, enjoy yourself.”
“I will!”
Kristoff left there humming something and I got down to business. That lute was not going to be made alone.
…
By the time the morning of Christmas Eve came, my hands were sore and the lute was not even half done, but at least I would show him what I had done.
The bell rang around lunchtime and I flew to the door. When I opened, his chocolate and caramel eyes greeted me with a smile and I couldn't help but look up to the frame above my head where the mistletoe that I had deliberately left over the place where I always meet him hung. He followed my gaze and I could see on his cheeks the moment he realized what he was seeing. Then he looked down back at me and handed me the signature machine.
“Package for Miss Anna Delle,” he said with a mischievous smirk.
My smile accompanied his when I saw that, for the first time since the second day, his hand did not withdraw from the device. So I brought mine closer and slowly laid it on his. And, that time, there were no shocks or tension, just fire and magnetism. I gently pulled his hand towards me and our eyes made it clear that we weren't going to wait another day. His body leaned towards mine and our lips met, and time stopped and his somehow strong from the workday scent invaded everything. Nothing in the world could be sweeter and softer than his lips, nothing could want me more nor be more wanted, and nothing could stop me ever again.
I tugged on his arm and led him into the house, closed the door, and pushed him on it ready to devour every millimeter of his skin.
“Give me my package, I want it.”
And, couldn’t be otherwise, his package was mine.