“I don’t know.” Flora shrugged. There were moments she thought he felt the same and moments she didn’t.
“I think you do, babe, but these things take time, it's only been like three weeks,” Willow said.
Saying her goodbyes and hanging up the phone, Flora remade the bed, thinking of the phone call and trying to calm down before she’d face Dylan again.
A knock on the door startled Flora, her body quickly turning to meet Dylan's gaze.
“I’m ready whenever you are.” No rushing, no insult about how long women took to get ready, nothing. Nothing but a simple, "I’ll wait for you.” Damn the flutter of her heart. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Thanks, hot stuff. I need ten minutes.” Turning on her heel, she raced toward the bathroom with her bag in hand. She didn’t need to really do her hair, thanks to the braids, and her outfit was picked out yesterday, a matching set consisting of fuzzy pants and a bralette. Boy, did small boobs come in handy sometimes.
Walking out the door, a pair of clean white sneakers on her feet, Flora was ready, both physically and mentally, to go back to her apartment. At least long enough to pack a bag for her production trip out to Moonlight City.
* * *
“How many outfitsdo you actually need, kitty cat?” Dylan asked. He plopped down onto the bed, stretching his frame along her covers. A posture very much in contrast to Flora's hunched shoulders.
“Being prepared for the ‘what ifs’ never hurt anybody,” she countered, packing her fifth pant suit.
“Where do you even find so many pastel pantsuits?”
“I have my sources.” Piling in five extra pairs of underwear just in case, Flora was finally ready to go. Zipping up the matte pink suitcase she walked out of her room and straight to the door.
“Hey, slow down a minute.”
“What?” she snapped. The air was suffocating in the apartment, in her own home. She couldn’t get away fast enough and the reminders of her attackers were being dug up from the depths of her brain. Her mother went through something like that once upon a time. She was kidnapped when she was still dating Flora’s dad and while he saved her, it changed her. It explained the many locks securing their doors growing up. She didn’t understand back then but boy did she now.
She thought she was okay; thought she could pack one last bag for her trip to Moonlight City without issue. Flora tried to push her fear to the back of her mind.
“Both hands on top of your head,” Dylan demanded, blocking her exit.
“No, we need to go.”
“Now.”
Huffing, she complied; the faster she listened, the faster she’d get out of there. Placing each hand on top of her head, she looked at Dylan expectantly.
“Breathe in for six.” She followed his instruction, inhaling for six counts. “Now out for eight.” And out for eight. “Relaxed?”
She was at least a little bit more than she was 14 seconds ago. Nodding her head, she slowly turned and pulled open the door.
“Alright, little meow meow, let’s roll,” he joked opening the door wide enough for the both of them.
“Little?” laughed Flora, letting him take the suitcase from her. Settling into his car, she watched him saunter around the hood before sliding into the driver's seat.
“Ready?”
“As ready as I can be.” His hand reached over to cover hers in her lap.
The drive was long and filled with strictly the driver’s choice of music the whole way there. A mix of hip-hop and pop spilled from the speakers. Flora was sure the pop hits were for her, but regardless it was a good time. Much more fun than driving herself at least.
Finding the hotel easily, they walked up to the front desk. With Dylan by her side, she felt comforted. Something she wished she could normalize in her routine. Flora knew she couldn’t get too used to him being with her; there would always come a time to say goodbye. As much as she’d love to prevent that from happening, she wasn’t sure how to go about it.
“Room under Larkspur, please,” Flora informed Mary, the receptionist, whom she’d became loose friends with after her frequent trips to Moonlight City.
“Ahh, I see you’ve booked a different room this time,” Mary said, a half-smile appearing on her face as she looked between Flora and Dylan. “Did you get mated and didn’t tell me?”
“No, not mated, we’re —” Pausing mid-sentence, Flora looked up at Dylan. She wanted to say they were more than a boss and bodyguard, more than a friend helping a friend. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t no matter how bad she wanted to.
