the fact that my love isn’t doomed.
My love is flourishing. It has a life. It will grow. It will live. It will become something now.
With him.
“You love me, huh?” I whisper, playing with the sun-struck hair at the back of his neck.
Those eyes of his smile. “Yeah.”
“And you stole my letters.”
“I did.”
“So you’re a thief,” I tease.
Slowly, a smirk stretches his lips. “Looks like it.”
“It does.”
“I’m not just a thief though.”
I squeeze my thighs around his hips. “No?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No. I’m also a poet.”
“What?”
He bends over me, curls his sleek, cut body all around me, making himself my world. Flicking his eyes all over my face, he whispers, “Dark curls; Golden eyes.” He rubs our noses together. “Thirteen freckles; Flowers between her thighs.” He skims his lips over mine. “Sweet; So sweet; My heart; My sweetheart.”
My lips part on a shaky breath. “You wrote me a poem.”
His lips part too to inhale the air from my lungs. “Well, you do have a thing for poetry, so.”
“You called me your sweetheart.”
I mean, he’s called me ‘baby’ before, in the heat of the moment. But never this.
Never sweetheart.
“Because you’re my sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I nod, feeling like I’ll burst. “And you are my darling.”
“I am.”
I blink, forcing my tears away. “I love it.”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He stares at me for a second before whispering, “I love you too.”
I kiss my darling then.
And my darling kisses his sweetheart.
The baseball cap.
That’s the first thing I see when I finish talking to a girl and turn around, the cap that he’s had for years now, hiding his glorious sun-struck hair.
He’s at the ice cream booth, placing our order.
With a happy smile on my face, I take him in.
I take in his wonderfully muscled shoulders draped in his vintage leather jacket. Not the original jacket that I’ve always loved and now belongs to me because he gave it to me back at St. Mary’s – the one that I’m wearing right now over my usual t-shirt and cargo pants – but a different one. This one we bought together in LA.
He also has his typical V-neck gray t-shirt on along with a pair of washed out jeans. Usually, I tell him to wear other colors but today I didn’t wanna bug him.
I wanted to be nice.
Because today’s special.
Of course I don’t think he remembers.
If the past two years have taught me anything, then it’s the fact that the love of my life can be forgetful sometimes. He can remember all the plays and strategies. He can also remember the plot of a book, a tiny piece of a poem that he’s read; yeah, his reading hobby? That definitely stuck. But he forgets important milestones and dates.
He definitely tries but it’s a losing battle.
But hey, he’s got me, right?
I always remind him. And then I make him pay a little. Just for fun.
I’ll remind him today too.
But first, I wanna see how long it takes for him to find out that I’ve broken his rule.
Turns out, it’s not so long.
Because once he’s placed his order, he turns around to check on me. But when he doesn’t find me at my original spot where he’d left me before going to get our ice creams, his jaw clenches. He runs his eyes, which I’m sure are dark right now, around until they land on me.
And I smile.
He frowns.
My lips part at his sexy glare and my fingers grip the silver chain sitting on my chest that he also gave me back at St. Mary’s. He told me to never take it off and I haven’t.
Not once in the past two years.
His gaze shifts to where I’m clutching his chain before coming back to my face. Just to play with him, I wink and pout my lips.
His eyes flash – dangerously, seductively – before his lips twitch.
Before leaving to get the ice cream that I told him I so desperately wanted, he told me to stay put because the place was crowded and he wanted to be able to see me from the booth. We’re at a carnival-like thingy and I admit that the place is packed.
But come on.
I’m not a delicate flower or a child. I can go wherever I want.
It’s just that my boyfriend – boyfriend; yay! – is kinda possessive and dominating and he thinks he owns me.
Which he totally does.
But still.
He likes to take care of me like I’m his most cherished possession – again, which I am – and so he