But even so, I say, “You know, you can’t really stop love. You can try but you won’t be successful.” He goes to argue; I’m sure but I distract him again. “And what about your wife? Can someone look at her?”
“If they want to make it the last thing they ever see.”
“You’re such a beast.” I bite his lip. “Now kiss your beauty.”
He does.
And while he’s doing that, kissing me, I send a wish up to the stars that my Rose finds a love like this one day too.
He told me to meet him at midnight in his backyard.
“Where the roses are,” he said, as soon as we arrived at their house for the Christmas party.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I wanna see you.” When I frowned, he explained, “I have something to give you. A gift. A Christmas gift.”
My heart started racing. “Why can’t you give it to me in front of everyone else? Tomorrow?”
He looked at me for a few seconds before going, “Please. It will only take five minutes.”
“I can’t,” I said to him and almost ran away.
When I turned around to look at him one last time, I saw him kicking the wall. And I felt… bad.
I don’t want him kicking things and hurting himself because of me.
I’m not sure if that’s when I decided to come see him or maybe I always knew that I would. But here I am.
By the rose bushes.
And I’m terrified.
Oh God, I’m so scared. So, so scared.
Not for myself, no. But for him.
Brendan Blackwood.
My dad would kill him; I know it.
He gets really mad when a boy comes near me. Not that they do a lot. But still. He gets really scary. All the boys in my class are scared of him, even the ones who are my friends.
Usually, I find it funny.
Because as scary and big as my dad looks, he’s not that way at all. At least not to me and my mom. He’s this giant teddy bear and I love him to pieces.
But God, he is a giant. And he will grab Brendan by the throat and throw him across the room. Or at the very least, he will shake Brendan so bad that his teeth will come loose.
Maybe I should go. I don’t wanna get him into trouble. Something squeezes in my chest when I think about Brendan getting into trouble.
Something squeezes in my chest when I think about him kicking the wall too but getting into trouble with my dad is way worse.
Besides, he’s not here yet and maybe he’s not even coming. Because he thinks I’m not going to be here.
So it’s really silly of me to stand in the cold in my flowery pajamas and the robe, all the while thinking I should’ve brought my other, less girly pajamas, and wait for him.
As soon as I think this though, I see his tall form walking toward me.
It’s dark so I can’t really see anything except the outline of his body. But I know it’s him. And as soon as he sees me, he starts jogging.
I’m super afraid that he will wake everyone up with his loud feet but still, I smile.
That’s the thing about Brendan Blackwood. He makes me smile.
He’s so… loud and open and goofy and charming and cute. And when I’m alone at night, trying to go to sleep, I think about him.
Okay so, I think about him all the time.
And on top of that, I count days until I can see him again. Usually, we see each other once or twice a year and in the last year or so, the wait to see him has become really hard.
By the time he reaches me, my heart is somewhere in my stomach and I’m having trouble breathing.
“You came.” He grins. “I knew you would.”
Did I mention he’s cute?
Like, so cute.
Now that he’s close, I can see him under the lamp on the wall. He has this crazy dark hair that falls over his forehead. It looks so soft.
As soft as the sweater he’s wearing.
Not to mention, I love his eyes. They’re so green that you can’t help but love the color, you know. It’s so bright and loud on his face. I’ve been buying things in green for the past couple of years too. My backpack, my journal, the pens. My dresses.
All in green.
I pluck at the belt of my robe when I realize I’m staring. “How?”
He smiles softly and shrugs his big shoulders. “Just a hunch.”
Despite telling myself that I shouldn’t stare, I still do.
I stare into his green eyes and his smile becomes even softer. Like his hair and his sweater. I feel like if I let him, he’ll stare at me all the time. Day and night. All through Christmas into New Year.
Actually, he’ll do that anyway, even if I don’t let him.
That’s another thing he does. I pretend that I don’t notice his eyes on me but I do. And my toes curl.
Like they’re doing now.
Don’t stare, Rose.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I lower my eyes. “What did you want to give me?”
He comes closer and I whip my eyes up. He still has a smile on his lips but it’s more lopsided, making him look so… yeah, cute that I have to swallow again.
“This.”
He offers something to me and I take it with shaky fingers. It’s gift wrapped but as soon as I touch it, I know what it is.
And then, I have to stare at him. “Lollipops.”
They’re my favorite candy. My and my mom’s. Her favorite flavor is cherry and it used to be mine too but now I like green apples.
“You got me lollipops,” I repeat.
He shrugs again. “I know you like‘em.”
“How?”
He smiles then, pushing back his crazy dark hair. “Just a hunch.”
Clutching his gift to my chest, I whisper, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s okay.” Then, “Although I do want something.”
My breathing gets really fast when he says that. I think because he dips his face toward me, and I’ve never – not in my entire life – been this close to a guy before.
It’s scary.
And exciting and I’m sweating inside my robe.
“What?” I ask while watching him bite his lip.
I do that a lot, bite my own lip. But I don’t think I look that… sexy.
My friends at school talk about guys being cute and sexy and all the things that make them giggle. I usually go along and say yes but I don’t really agree with them.
Because I don’t think there are any guys at my school who are cute or sexy. Not like Brendan is.
He shoves his hands down his pockets and says, breaking my thoughts, “Answer a question.”
Oh.
Oh okay.
Answer a question. That’s what he meant.
Not something else. Not something to do with… lips.
I’m an idiot.
I clear my throat, my face feeling hot. “Okay. What is it?”
He dips his face even more and I notice his nose is slightly crooked. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
He’s no longer smiling though. He has a thin frown between his brows.
“Why? I ask.
“Because I don’t want you to have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t want me to have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Moving away, he takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back once again. “Because I like you. And I’m going to be your boyfriend.”
Stunned, I whisper, “You like me?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You cursed.”
He grimaces. “Yeah, don’t tell my mom. She’ll kill me.”
I squeeze the bag of lollipop as tightly as my heart squeezes. Again, at the thought of him getting in trouble. So I blurt out, “I won’t.”
His green eyes become shiny when I say that, all bright and pretty. “So? Do you? Have a boyfriend.
”
Instead of answering his question, I ask a question of my own, “Is that why you always stare at me? Because you like me.”
He shakes his head slowly, doing exactly what I just said: staring at me. At my loose brown hair and my cheeks that burn with embarrassment. “No, I always stare at you because you’re pretty.”
I gasp.
No one has called me pretty before. I mean, my parents have of course. But they love me so they have to say these things, right?
So what I mean is that a boy has never called me pretty before, and even if they have I don’t remember.
Not right now.
When he’s smiling in that lopsided way of his and his eyes are shining, making me blush harder than before.
I go to say something, something like thank you when I remember what he said. “Going to be?” I frown. “You said you’re going to be my boyfriend.”
He still has that smile on his face and he’s still staring at me like he was before. “Yeah.”
“Isn’t that a little arrogant?”
“I call it confidence.”
“You know –”
Just then we hear murmurs and whispered conversations.
It’s my parents. They’re walking toward the house, absorbed in each other.
I freeze for a second.
But only a second before I grab Brendan’s sweater and pull him toward me, toward the wall of his house, to a spot where we’re partially hidden by the rose bushes.
Oh God.
I knew it.
I knew this was a bad idea. Now we’ll get caught and my dad will really kill Brendan and all my fears will come true.
My chest is squeezing so hard that I almost crush all my candy with how tightly I’m holding the bag.
I don’t want to make any sounds and alert them that we’re here. But I think they’re going to come to know anyway because my heart won’t stop pounding.
It’s so freaking loud that I know my parents will hear it, his parents will hear it too, and all of them will find us.
Only they don’t.
They just… keep walking and disappear.
They disappear.
They’re gone.
They’re really, really gone. And I take my first real breath in ages.
Okay not ages. But still, it feels like it.
And then, I feel something else.
Something that I haven’t been paying attention to due to my mini freak out.
Brendan is really close to me. So close that I can feel his hot breaths on my cheeks. Not only that, I feel a couple of other things.
His eyes on me, for one.
I think all the while I was looking at my parents in terror, he was looking at me. He was staring at me with no care whatsoever, of being caught.
And not only that, he was touching me.
My hair, I mean.
“They’re gone,” he whispers and my toes curl inside my night slippers.
I know I’m being an idiot, not turning my face to look at him but I have to gather all my courage. I have to calm down all the buzzing in my stomach to be able to look at him.
To be able to meet his eyes when he’s playing with my hair.
Biting my lip, I somehow manage the feat and find him smiling. Although, this one is very small and very soft. Smaller and softer than all his other smiles.
“You’re touching me,” I whisper. “M-my hair.”
“I know.”
“You can’t touch me.”
“I can.” Then he grins. “Because you’re touching me too.”
I frown and when he looks down at something between us, I realize he’s right. I’m touching his sweater. I’m actually rubbing it between my fingers.
It’s as soft as I thought it would be. Softer, actually.
But I snap my hand back, feeling shy and embarrassed. This is the first time I’ve done something without realizing that I was doing it.
It’s crazy like all the stuff I feel about him.
“I didn’t…” I shake my head. “My dad will kill you.”
“I’m not scared of your dad,” he says with that confidence of his. “And if they’d found us, I would’ve protected you.”
Protected me.
Okay that, no one has ever said to me. Not that I need protection from my dad but still. No one has been brave enough to say that to me.
And that just makes me want to protect him even more. Because I can actually picture my dad being mean to him.
So I try to scare him some more. “You should be. He’s big.”
He shrugs, his finger curling a strand of my hair like he’s enjoying playing with it. “I’m big too. And I play ball. I go to the gym and everything.”
Well, he’s right. He is big and I think with time, he’s only going to get bigger.
I mean, he’s taller than all the guys in my class. I actually have to stretch my neck up to look at him and he has to lean down.
It’s like how my mom and Dad are. My mom is too short for him so he always bends down. Sometimes my mom steps up on his feet.
She only does that though when she thinks I’m not looking.
My parents are really frisky and sometimes they make me laugh with how in love they are with each other.
But most times they make me dream of finding that kind of love one day. And the thought of love these days makes me think of Brendan.
You can’t love him, Rose. You’re too young for all that. And remember your dad? So scare him away. Right now.
“It will never work between us,” I blurt out, trying to do just that.
His finger in my hair stops and he frowns. “Yeah? Why not?”
“A, because I live in Colorado and we only see each other like, twice a year. And B, you’re super arrogant.”
He smirks at me. “A, there’s a little thing called phone and video chat and FB. And B, you like it.”
“I like what?”
“Me being arrogant.”
I kinda do but he shouldn’t know that. He shouldn’t know what I like and don’t like. He shouldn’t be able to read me so easily.
I should tell him to stop doing it.
But all I do is blink up at him. “How do you know?”
He lets go of my hair then and runs that finger down my cheek. “Just a hunch. Plus you blush every time I say something arrogant.”
One time I ran a rose down my cheek while I was writing in my journal, thinking about him. Goosebumps woke up on my skin and I shivered but this is way worse.
This is making me shiver and making my heart race and making me want to… touch him again.
This time with every intention of doing so.
“I have to go. My mom might check in on me and she’ll be worried if she finds me gone.”
He loses his smile along with the shine in his eyes, and I hate that.
I hate it so much that I give in and touch him.
I reach up and swipe his crazy hair away from his brow.
He smiles then. And the shine in his eyes come back.
“Okay, I’ll let you go. But give me your phone number first.”
“Oh and now you’re bossy also.”
He shrugs, all casual-like. “Gotta be. Because you like that too.” I go to protest but he runs his finger down my cheek once again. “Come on, Rosie. As a Christmas gift.”
He called me Rosie.
Everyone calls me that but no one does it like he just did. Like his life depends on it, on me agreeing to whatever he’s asking.
And that’s when I realize that I can never say no to him. I can never refuse him anything and that should be scary.
Only it’s not.
Nothing is scary right now. Not my dad or what he might to do Brendan. Or how Brendan seems to know all my thoughts and how my breathing gets all haywire when he touches me or smiles at me or stares at me.
Nothing scares me.
&nb
sp; “I don’t have a pen,” I whisper.
“Luckily I do.”
He fishes it out of the pocket and offers it to me. Even as I take it, I ask, “Why do you have a pen in your pocket? Did you already know you were going to ask me for my phone number?”
He also offers me his palm, so I can write the number on it. “Yeah. I also knew you’d give it to me.”
I dig the nib of the pen on his skin. “Just a hunch?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I shake my head at him and then, write my number on his big palm. It’s so hot to touch, so different than my own. All rough and tanned and… something that can only belong to a boy.
When I’m done, he stares at the palm like he stares at me. With all his focus. He touches it for a second too, my number.
Grinning, he looks up and steps away. “Now, you can go.”
I don’t know what makes me do what I do next. But I move closer to him. “My phone number isn’t your Christmas gift though.”
“What?”
Before I can really think about it, I close all the distance between us and get up on his feet like I’ve seen my mom do to my dad a thousand times.
Brendan’s mouth is all open and his eyes are wide with shock. As for me, I’ll think about this bold step later, up in my bedroom.
For now, I lean in and whisper, “This is.” I kiss his cheek softly. “Merry Christmas, Brendan. Thank you for my lollipops.”
And then without even looking at him, I run away, my heart pounding and pounding because I just had my first kiss by the rose bushes.
Three years later…
He emerges from the water, all wet and tanned.
Dripping.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so fucking sexy before, his skin like velvet. Actually, I think his muscular and honey-colored form is making the ocean look ridiculously blue in contrast. Or maybe I’m just being silly.
But it’s okay.
I can be silly for him.
For Dean.
The love of my life.
He rakes his fingers through his hair, slicking it back, and wipes off the rivulets of water running down his beautiful face.
His brown eyes find me as soon as he opens them and he begins to walk toward me. I watch the tiny droplets of water sliding down the arched curve of his chest, making their way to his ridged abdomen. I see them falling from his biceps, the hills of his shoulders as he slicks back his hair once again.
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