54. Skylar
CHAPTER 54
SKYLAR
Two months later . . .
“ S kylar Warren, what are you doing?” I wince as Bones’s sharp voice fills the air.
I thought he was still sleeping. I freeze in the entryway of my apartment—not the one I bought to be close, but my actual apartment. He moved in here a few weeks after I won the race. We can’t bear to be apart. We know we are in this together forever, so why wait and waste time?
“Uh, nothing?” I reply innocently, and his eyes narrow on my hands, so I shove the plant behind my back. He prowls my way, and I try to back up, but I hit the door. He feints right then left and grabs it.
I wince as he brings it into the light. “Sky, what is this?” he asks, holding up the plant.
“Uh, a new friend?” I say. “To go with your other one?” I bluff as I start to sweat.
“The one that’s dead?” he snaps, annoyance flashing across his handsome face before it seems to click. “Don’t tell me . . . Do you keep replacing it when I kill it?”
“Angel.” I wrap my arms around him, ignoring his struggle. It isn’t his fault, he just doesn’t have a green thumb, but he kept getting so sad when the flowers I got died after a few days. I made the mistake of buying him a plant, but when it started to die since he couldn’t care for it, I panicked and replaced it.
This is the tenth time. Honestly, it’s impressive how often he has killed them.
“You replaced it, didn’t you? I knew it was dead!” He breaks from my arms and throws himself on the couch, covering his face. “Why? Why would you do that? I was so proud it was still alive.”
Putting the plant down, I head over and crouch before him. “Angel.”
He drops his hands, and tears swim in his eyes. “I know I’m being unreasonable.” He sniffs as he cries. “But what does it say about me, huh?”
“What, angel?” I ask gently.
“I can’t even keep a plant alive, Skylar. What does that say about me as a person?”
“It means you’re not a plant person and I should have bought a fake one,” I reply.
“No, it means I’m shit. I can’t even look after a plant, Sky! I can’t even keep that stupid cute plant alive. I suck at everything. I’m so stupid.”
I see the fear in his gaze, and I know it’s about more than the plant, so I wrap my arms around him. “You’ll learn,” I promise. “You aren’t stupid. You are incredible. I will buy a thousand plants if it will make you happy, but this doesn’t mean anything, angel. Some people aren’t meant to have plants. It means nothing more. Hell, I can’t even remember to change the toilet paper. It’s just who we are, and I love you.”
He drops his hands again, still looking far too sad. “Why does nature hate me?” he mutters.
“I don’t know, but I love you,” I reply, smiling sweetly.
He scoffs and wipes his face, and the glimpse of the scars on his hands makes my heart ache.
He pouts. “I wouldn’t love me. I’m a plant killer.”
God, I love this boy so much. I can’t wait to put my ring on his finger and adopt a couple hundred babies . . . or maybe not, since he will cry if they get sick, and I hate seeing him cry.
“Come on.” Tugging him to his feet, I remove my jacket as I turn on the radio. It’s something we’ve started. Whenever we’re sad or mad, we dance. We are both shit at it, but it’s funny, and it reminds us why we keep fighting.
The beat flows through the room, and he rolls his eyes but starts to move, and when it switches to a faster song, I pull out the sprinkler move, and then the one-legged chicken.
His childlike laughter fills the apartment, and this is the most perfect moment—just the two of us with our futures spread in front of us and our pasts behind us. We are still so young with so much life to lead. I will cherish every moment so forty seconds become forty years, and I’ll still be right here, dancing in our kitchen with him.
Everyone is always obsessed with happy endings, but me? I’m more interested in the story. I don’t want to rush to my happily ever after. I want to live it.