“You went back and bought me flowers, after we had checked out,” he finally says. Lightning cracks across the sky, lighting up his face in the bright light and the melancholy on his face makes my chest hurt.
Flowers. Flowers. Flowers. I think hard back to that day, trying to remember exactly what happened. It was so long ago, but I would like to think my memory isn’t that bad yet.
“We had already put the bags in the back of my mom’s car, and you were holding the change from your groceries in your hand. I had the receipt for both of our carts in my hand. I didn’t have any change left over, but as we were walking outyou saw me stare at the premade bouquets by the produce section.”
I’m hit by a scene so vivid I would think it’s happening right now if I didn’t know any better.
Raiden, staring longingly at the bouquets of mixed daisies. They were always his favorite, but he had already spent all the money his parents had given him. He wouldn’t have asked me. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be loved without asking.
I went back in to buy them because I knew he wanted them. He held them in his lap the whole ride back, even when I was worried he was going to squish the life out of them. And after Ema and Rodney went to the store to get the rest of the missed groceries, I took an old vase my mom had in the hall closet next door to him.
He didn’t like the exact way the person who made the bouquet did it, because it didn’t truly show how beautiful they were. I remember him looking even more beautiful than the flowers, nibbling on his bottom lip while he worked to place them the way he wanted. When he was finished, he was so proud of himself, and he kept them displayed on his desk right beside the computer we playedThe SIMSon, so I kept seeing them every time I went over there.
Then the flowers died, and I always told myself I was going to buy him more to keep on his desk. So he could have a reminder of me whenever he looked at it, but life got away the more we got busy and then I’m not sure when I stopped remembering. But one day the thought was there, and then the next it disappeared. Poof, gone like so many other small memories.
I don’t want to let him know the downhill turn my thoughts have taken me, so I settle for a simple word, “Daisies.”
Raiden nods, and the corner of his lips tip up. They’re back to their natural color, most of the lip tint has faded. Or maybe it’s transferred to my lips. Either way.
The rain starts a vicious downpour, my windshield wipers working overtime to combat the attack. Raiden is leaning forward in his seat to help me see. At least we won’t have to worry about stragglers walking the roads now trying to get last minute candy before homes start to turn off their front porch light.
We pull up in front of my parents’ house, and their driveway is packed to the brim with cars, the same with the curb space. Ema and Rodney have a space left open at their house, so I whip my truck onto their concrete driveway and park the truck.
I sit there, waiting for the rain to let up. Raiden reaches his hand across the console and rubs my upper leg. His bony fingers massage into the tissue, and I let out a loud groan. I want to be embarrassed, but I love massages. I haven’t had one in forever, and I’m way overdue. Liam hated rubbing my legs because he never knew how to react to my missing one, and in the end it became too big of an insecurity of mine to let him see it like that.
“Are you that pent up?” Raiden smirks at me, but keeps kneading the area.
“Yes, god yes,” I mumble and shift to get my leg closer to him. The combination of what he’s doing and the knowledge that it’s Raiden doing it to me is a deadly concoction for my resolve.
“When we go home later, I’ll give you a full rub down. I’ll just have to run home to get my lotion, it’ll be the best massage you’ve ever experienced.” His smirk tells me he’s planning on more than a basic massage and I’m too weak of a man when it comes to him to pass up on it.
“Deal, but who knows how long we’ll be here. You’ll have to sneak out when I leave, I don’t want to miss a moment with you.” Which is shitty, because I’m asking him–in a roundabout way–to lie to his parents about why he won’t be home tonight.And maybe he’ll use the same excuse the last time he stayed the night at my house. That he just neededsome me timeand Ema nor Rodney asked any questions.
“Deal.” His smile is sweet, and I need to taste it for myself before I go in there and brave the mass of people that have congregated at my parents’ house for this party.
Our lips meet, tongues tangling and his breath becoming my own as our mouths are pressed together. We kiss until it’ll become too noticeable if we both walk in there looking positively wrecked.
“We need to go in.” I pull back from his tempting mouth and kiss his forehead, before unbuckling my own seatbelt. The rain outside has slowed some, so now will be our best chance. “Wait on me, I’ll get the door for you.” I don’t know if he says anything after that, because I’m darting out of the truck and around to his side and wrenching open the door.
My personal prince.
“Come on, tiny dancer.” I extend my hand to his and his grip on mine is tight as he gets out of the truck. We race across the grass together, the ground squishing under every one of our steps. It’s not far, but Raiden lags behind me, his heels getting caught in the grass.
“Get on, I don’t want your shoes to get ruined.” I squat down, and he makes it over to me. We’re halfway to my parents’ front door, and as I run with him on my back,the rain starts to pick up. I narrowly dodge the halloween decorations my mom had me putting up earlier today. Raiden’s ass hits my back with every step I make, his body jerking against mine with my movements.
Thankfully, we made it to the front door with minimal damage. My clothes are soaked and Raiden stumbles as he tries to get off my back. When I turn around he’s standing there, under the faint glow of the porch light. His brown hair, glistening with water droplets and sticking to his forehead, thegemmed hair clip he was wearing is gone and I make a mental note to buy him another one. I need to see him all dressed up like this again, for my own personal fantasies.
“Ready?” I ask him, about to push the door open. His smile is hesitant and I freeze for a minute. “Do you not want to come in?” I want him here with me, I want him wherever I am.
“No! I do!” He rushes to get out, but the same hesitancy is on his face as he shakes his head. “It’s stupid, I’ll be fine.”
I hate that, when something is obviously upsetting him but he constantly brushes it off. Like he thinks that what he’s isn’t important or it doesn't matter. How can I get it through to him that it does matter. Whatever he feels, thinks, does, matters to me. I’ll circle hell and back if that’s what it takes to make him feel okay.
“You’re not fine. Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
“I just worry that your friends aren’t going to like me,” he finally admits, looking so much like the younger version of himself I’m nearly thrown into a flashback from freshman year, where we held hands because he was nervous to walk in our first day. I did whatever I could then, the same as I’m going to do now.
“I’m never going to let anything hurt you, not again. Okay?” I reach out and trace my fingers down his face, collecting the water under my fingertips and brushing it away. “They’ll love you, tiny dancer.” I bite my lip, from finishing the rest of the sentence that is begging to be let free, but I can’t. Not yet.
