“I love you.” He pulls back and tilts my face up with his finger under my chin. “Let me look at you. I’ve missed you, Rose.”
“I missed you too.” My voice gets wobbly. The wild revelations from earlier already have me on edge, and now seeing Zander in my living room…it’s all too much for my tiny heart. With all the emotions bursting inside me, my eyes well with tears. “So bad.”
He places a kiss on my forehead before wiping the stray tear that rolls down my cheek, even though I tried to hold it back. “It’s been six months since I put this ring on your finger,” he says. When he twists my ring, I wonder if the reality of being engaged is sometimes as mind-boggling for him as it is for me.
I’ve never felt this connection to anyone. I’ve never belonged to anyone, and if it were possible, I’d never be apart from him for a second. I know it almost sounds creepy, but that’s how I feel.
My hands go around his neck when he pulls me closer, and then my lips are captured by his. He kisses me, soft and slow. Though I’ve got no one to compare it to, as Zander is my first boyfriend, I know he gives the best kisses. He never rushes but takes his time, like he’s slowly exploring my lips. And then he pushes his tongue into my mouth and rolls it with mine, making me crazy.
It took me so long to realize that this feeling, which is a bit ticklish and a bit shaky and builds into a sensation that goes straight to my stomach and further down, is not fever but passion.
Without breaking our kiss, he moves us to the couch, then pulls me onto his lap. His hand wanders to my waist. I’m wearing my blue flannel shirt, which is, as usual, a size too big.
“Zander,” I whisper when his lips leave mine.
He tries to nuzzle my neck, but I guess my buttoned-up shirt isn’t to his liking. He opens two of the buttons, starting from the collar. He looks into my eyes, passion and emotion shining from his. My previous panic has left the building.
“I’m so happy to see you. Especially today,” I tell him. He’s become my talisman, my happy pill, which has all the power to make me feel safe.
“I got a call from your distressed friend.” Zander’s fingers run back and forth over my neck, his featherlight touch causing my insides to tremble as his gaze never leaves my face.
“And you came?”
“I told you, no one can keep me away from my girl.”
“I love being your girl.” My hand rests over his five o’clock shadow. My ring twinkles, reflecting the lights of the candles burning in the room.
“Me too, couch girl. You don’t know how much.”
4
ROSE
I look around my living room and notice for the first time that Zander has turned it into a cozy, romantic place I never could have imagined. He’s lit candles on every surface, and I can count at least three bouquets of pink flowers.
He’s the kind of boyfriend plucked out of every girl’s favorite romance novel.
I’m still taking in my surroundings when he lifts me into his arms.
“Zander!” A squeal escapes me, and I hug him koala-style, which is kind of our style now. My hands go around his neck, my head resting on his shoulder while his hands are under my behind. He squeezes me and then heads confidently toward my bedroom.
When he places me down, I gasp at the sight of pink flower petals scattered on the floor, making a path from the door to my bed. The string lights hanging on the wall above my bed are on, illuminating the photographs clipped on them. Six months back, there were only two pictures of Kristy and me, but now the entire wall is filled with photographs of Zander and me that were taken on our numerous dates, some in Cherrywood and some in St. Peppers.
“Go in, babe.” With his hand on my back, he gives me a gentle push, but I’m rooted to the spot. “It’s all for you.”
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
Our hushed voices, the lights, the flowers, the overall ambience—they all amplify the sensation of our surroundings.
“I’ll ruin it and… I want to keep it like this for…” I want to say forever, but that would be stupid, so I add, “A long time.” My voice breaks, and all the bottled feelings of the past few months strike me hard.
I’ve missed him so much. Every second.
“We can do it every day or as frequently as you like, couch girl.” He turns me around to face him and squeezes my waist.
“We can’t. You’re not here every day.” I know I sound childish, but these feelings are all foreign to me, and I don’t know how to react.