Chapter 30
“Do you want to come inside?” Daisy asks when we finally pull up to her apartment. Her hand is still in mine, but she gnaws on her lower lip before looking out the window to her apartment complex. She slowly turns her head to look at me when I don’t respond right away, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“Would you like me to?”
She hesitates, averting her gaze to look everywhere but me.
“I don’t have to,” I offer, rubbing the side of her thumb with my own despite the pressure in my chest. “No pressure.”
“I want you to,” she says softly, focusing on our connected hands. “I’m just nervous.”
“Well, let’s talk about it,” I say, angling my body as best I can in the close quarters of my car so I can look at her. What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
She tries rolling her lips into her mouth to avoid smiling but does so anyway.
“It might be stupid, but I get anxious about letting people come into my house. I don’t want to be judged or something. It’s dumb.”
“Hey,” I say, pulling my hand from hers to gently turn her chin in my direction, giving her my best reassuring smile. “If you aren’t ready for me to see your space, I get it.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “How are you so…”
“Great?” I smirk, rubbing her jaw with my thumb. She rolls her eyes.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” she gnaws on her bottom lip again. “More like…understanding? Patient with me. How do you do it?”
My brows furrow. “Should I not be?”
“That’s not what I mean,” she says. “I guess I’m not entirely used to somebody being so accepting of…me.”
I nod in understanding, contemplating the best way to convey what I’m thinking without having it come out wrong. “You’re not difficult to be around, Daisy. You’ve gone through life in a certain way, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is make this difficult for you. We agreed to take things slow, so if you aren’t ready for me to come inside, we can do it another day. It’s not a big deal.”
Her eyes slide to mine before shifting to look back out the window. My hand drops from her face, and I rest it against my lap again, waiting to give her the time and space she needs. I’ll always give her that time if it means she’ll come back to me regardless of how much it hurts in the meantime, while I wait for her to confidently know what she wants. Pushing and forcing her to do something she isn’t ready for is only going to make things worse, and I’m not that guy, anyway. I respect consent, and if she isn’t ready, she isn’t ready.
“Come inside,” she says after a few minutes of tense silence.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she replies, pushing the door open and getting out of the car.
My brows furrow deeper, eyes narrowing as I switch off the ignition and quickly unbuckle before getting out of the car. I round the front, locking it twice before standing to meet her on the steps.
Her shift is apparent; she’s more guarded and wary, and her body is nearly stiff as she begins walking inside. My hand reaches for her wrist, gently tugging to turn her around as I roam her face for any sign of distress. She looks like she normally does—beautiful, of course—but also cautious.
“Talk to me, Daisy Girl,” I say. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”
“I’m nervous,” she replies tersely.
“That’s understandable,” I say. “Do you want to wait?”
She eyes me. “You’re out here, aren’t you?”
I fight the urge to scoff and grip my hair in frustration. I’m learning quickly how much I hate when she pushes me away when she’s feeling scared. I want her to lean into me, not shove away so she’s alone. I don’t say this, though. I bite the inside of my cheek and nod towards the apartment.
“Lead the way.”
She turns around stiffly but to my surprise, reaches her hand behind her so I can grab it. I do without hesitation and allow her to lead me inside.
We walk up the path, and up close, I take in how unique her apartment is, with the vines dancing alongside the building. It’s an older brick building, definitely has been around for longer than either of us have been alive, but the bones seem to be intact.
She glances over her shoulder once before dropping my hand to dig her key from her pocket, unlocks the door, and as she pulls it open, I reach to hold it fully open so she can walk in before me. Another glance behind her shoulder, this one filled with curiosity, but she walks up the stairs silently.
Earlier today in the car, I drifted into my own thoughts about what being with her would be like—if she would always be closed off and brush me off. I know she doesn’t intentionally try pushing people away; I’m confident it’s just how she acts when she’s getting used to people or is unsure if they’re going to leave her or not, but I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I won’t be one of those people who spend their time getting to know her only to push her away and completely vanish from her life.
Even if she wants nothing to do with me in a romantic way, I wouldn’t leave.
Truthfully, I don’t think I could.
“Okay,” she says to either herself or me. I can’t be certain, but she fully turns in front of her apartment door. “I know this isn’t a big deal, but you can’t judge my place, okay?”
I meet her gaze, my fingers itching to reach for her. We’re taking things slow, so I’m allowed to do that, right?
Praying to whatever god is out there, I reach for her dainty wrist and hold it in my hand, tugging her again closer to my chest. A small gasp slips from her mouth, her eyes widening in curiosity, as she doesn’t break from my stare.
“Have I told you how beautiful you looked today?” I say, which causes her to jerk her head in surprise, any and all nerves leaving her body as she melts into me. She opens her mouth to protest but I lean down and press a kiss against the side of her jaw, her breath hitching in her throat again. I smirk.
“Let’s go inside, Daisy Girl.”
I pull away before she can protest, dipping my head as I wait for her to wrap her head around the small moment of intimacy. She blinks a few times as if she needs to recenter herself before spinning back around and unlocking her door.
When she pushes it open and steps inside, with me following closely behind in case she decides to slam the door in my face at the last moment, I smile.
It’s so…her. A blue couch sits in the living room with a lime green blanket draped over it, various pictures of different shapes and sizes hang on the walls where a TV would be if she had one, and a vibrant patterned rug takes up half of the wood floor in the living room. My eyes instantly flick to the window perch with the drawing pad and pencils sprawled out, and I look over at her. She’s currently straightening out trinkets and various objects that don’t need to be fussed with to distract herself from, no doubt, her fear of judgment, but honestly, I’m impressed. I wouldn’t have taken her for a vibrant color girl, but her place gives off a chill space, and I dig it.
For a split second, I allow myself to wonder how she’d decorate our place. Would she keep the artificial plants and wall art, or would she paint the walls bright colors? I wouldn’t fucking care what she did as long as I could come home to her every day.
“So, this is my place,” she drawls, and I turn to find her standing next to what looks like an entertainment stand, my eyes finding the vinyls resting in one of the cubes. A black, pink, and baby blue vinyl cover sticks out more than the others, and I walk over to where she’s standing and pull it out without asking. Probably should, but it’s—
“Fine Line?“ I ask, holding it up with a smile on my face. “This is one of my favorite albums.”
Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “You listen to Harry Styles?”
I make a face, disappointed she would think less of me. “‘Course I do. This album—the dude, is great. I have the same vinyl in my bedroom.”
Now she looks surprised. “You…have vinyls, too?”
“Yeah,” I crouch down, suddenly more interested in her music collection than anything else, as I pull out her records. “I keep my record player in my bedroom because I’m in there more than my living room, but yeah.” I smile looking at the familiar names: Anderson.Paak, Kendrick Lamar, Taylor Swift, Goo-Goo Dolls, and a chuckle escapes me as I pull out one I know all too well.
“Beychella?” I grin, holding up the white vinyl of Beyoncé. Daisy slinks to the floor next to me with the biggest smile she’s ever given me. I swear to God I’m about to have a heart attack if she keeps looking at me like that.
“You know of her Coachella performance?” Her smile gets wider and wider, the light in her eyes brightening to the point of causing pain in my chest. Fuck. I need to be the reason for all of her smiles for the rest of my life.
“You don’t know him very well,” I muse, turning the vinyl over to look at the back. “But Declan is a big Yoncé fan. We’ve watched Beychella more times than I can count. I think I know all of her dances.”
Daisy snorts. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.”
I grin, sliding my gaze to her. “If you’re lucky enough, you probably will.”
She smiles, folding her legs under her as she eyes each vinyl. “How long have you known your friends?”
I place the record back and grab Fine Line again, standing on my knees to lift open her record player before pulling the disc from the paper sleeve and sitting it on top of the jockey. “I’ve known Dec since we were young—maybe fifth grade? We played little league sports together and went to the same schools. Naomi—Nay, as we call her—has been around probably for the same amount of time, but she was my family’s neighbor so I spent more time with her, and she and my sister are close. We kind of all meshed together in some weird way and never stopped hanging out.”
“That’s nice,” Daisy hums.
“You told me about you and Sam, but what about Gia?” I ask, looking at her. “How did you guys become friends?”
“College,” she replies, a wistful smile on her face. “We had a few classes together and she crocheted during our graphic design class, and at the end of the semester, she gave me the scarf. We studied together and like you and your friends, didn’t ever stop.”
“Are you two close?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, the smile never leaving her face. “Gia would probably hide a dead body for me if I asked, but I’d do the same.”
“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” I jokingly mumble. She laughs and bumps her shoulder against mine. I press a kiss to her temple and adjust to outstretch my arms behind us, propping me upright. Silence falls between us as the opening beats of“Golden”plays.
“You know,” I say, dropping my head and angling it to her. “This song reminds me of you.” Her brows furrow, and she tilts her head to look into my eyes, curiosity filling them. “Why?”
My hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, softly smiling as I look at the girl who could easily become the center of my life. “Because Daisy Girl, you’re golden.”
Her face softens, gaze dropping to my lips before finding my eyes again. The arm closest to her back slides closer, fingers itching to find their spot on her hip but she leans closer, brown eyes deepening in richness that make every thought leave my head.
“Tanner?” she asks breathlessly.
“Daisy Girl,” I rasp, wrapping my arm around her lower back and pulling her closer.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
A grin pulls at my lips as I lean my head closer to hers, our lips mere inches apart.
“You want me to kiss you, baby?” my voice drops low, fingers hooking in her belt loops as I press her closer to me, enough so that she could easily climb on top of me and straddle my hips if I shifted again.
She nods, swallowing thickly as her eyes flutter, focused on my mouth.
“Gonna need to hear you say please, baby girl,” I rasp, and for a brief moment, her eyes flick to mine, pupils dilating with arousal. My cock strains against my jeans, the hand squeezing gently on her hip to ground myself as my heart thrums in my ears, silencing out everything but her.
“Please,” she murmurs, our lips practically touching as her hand rests against my thigh, close enough that she can probably feel the strain in my jeans. “Please kiss me, Tanner.”
“Fuck, baby,” I murmur, reaching up to cup the side of her face. She leans into my hand with doe eyes, and the sight alone makes my dick throb. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to you.”
“Then don’t,” she says softly, smirking. “Kiss me.”
So I do.