Chapter Thirty-five
Flora
Lately, my brain’s falling apart, but not in a floaty, sighing-at-the-rain, pressing-your-forehead-to-the-window kind of way you see in romantic period dramas.
Everything sets me off, especially Sean.
My aspiration is to be a rare blue parrot, soaring through the skies of Rio, and I get angry at him for being a house cat, content to stay at home and eat the same kibble every day.
It’s unfair to blame him for not flapping his wings.
Therefore, I tell myself, Don’t ask what your boyfriend can do for you, ask what you can do for him. This is my new relationship motto, and here are a few things I (willingly) do for him:
Sean appreciates my effort, even though he constantly worries if I’m happy.
I assure him that I am, because after all, what’s there to complain about?
We have everything a solid relationship offers: stability, trust, affection, and understanding, even though it lacks a few other things, such as possibilities, surprises, unlimited choices, and that sense of open-ended freedom.
Sean reminds me of stepping onto the balcony on a crisp winter morning, the air sharp against my skin, my breath visible in the stillness, then coming back inside, warmth settling over me, like it was always waiting.
Whenever he smiles at me, I still think he’s the greatest guy ever and I’m beyond lucky to have him. That’s when I remind myself, forget choices.
I’ve already chosen the best.
* * *
Two weeks before winter break, it’s right before lunch, and Sean’s in the hallway, heading for the cafeteria. When I call to him, he stops and waits. Every girl in the vicinity envies me. He’s oblivious, but their stares heat my skin, a scorching spotlight tracking our every step.
Sean smiles at me, and only me. Ligands bind to specific receptors, and I’m the only person who melts the aloof front he puts up. A few steps ahead, Wayne, the janitor, exits the storage room. The door doesn’t close all the way, scratching to a halt against the floor.
A sudden spark of inspiration hits. Even old married couples find ways to keep things exciting, and why shouldn’t we? We’ll make it work.
All we need is some spontaneity!
Before Sean can protest, I yank him into the storage room. I’m not even horny, but the thrill of doing something bad with him is exhilarating.
It’s pitch-dark inside, the air thick with bleach and a hint of mold.
It doesn’t matter. I push him against the door, his body hot and solid against mine, familiar yet foreign at the same time.
Muffled voices filter in from the hallway.
Out there, it’s bright, open, public. In here, it’s dark, hidden, electric.
A long-lost rush of excitement floods my veins. My nerve endings crackle.
I find Sean’s lips and kiss him hard.
“What are you doing?” His breath is warm on my face, and as usual he smells of soap and fabric softener.
“Isn’t this fun?”
It takes him a moment to recover, but he kisses me back. My hand moves over his chest, and beneath my fingers, his heart pounds. He makes a small sound between a sigh and a groan, and at that, all my reserves fly out the storage closet.
He’s sexier than a crime. My hand slides past his flat stomach, thrilled with what I find. “You like this.”
He removes my hand. “Yeah, but that’s enough. Let’s go before anyone finds us.”
“Come on.” I kiss him again, fingers trailing along his neck to his collar. I fumble with the first button on his shirt.
“No.”
I start on the second button, wanting to kiss his collarbone, but Sean pulls away.
“No,” he says more firmly this time, and pushes me off him. In the dim light slipping under the door, he straightens his shirt, putting space between us.
The spell shatters, and humiliation creeps in fast. “What’s wrong with you?” My voice comes out shriller than I intend.
“What’s wrong with you? We don’t have to sneak around like this.”
“We’re not doing anything wrong.”
He exhales, and the faint light is enough to catch the hint of exasperation on his face. His tone remains neutral, but there’s an air of icy annoyance. “I’m opening the door now, okay?”
He turns the knob. Light washes over me like a bucket of ice water. He takes my wrist and pulls me outside. “Let’s go to lunch.”
“No.” I plant my feet, staring at him. I should drop this. I don’t even know what I want from him. But I can’t move.
Sean sighs. “I don’t want to get caught. It’s bad for your image.”
“How’s that bad for my image?”
“Well, you’re a girl, and people are judgmental toward girls. They—”
“I was kissing my boyfriend.” My voice spikes.
“But you know how people are. Give them the slightest material and they’ll run with it. Especially when it comes to you.” He stops, swallows, then reaches for my arm. “Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
I shake him off. “What does that mean? What do people say about me?”
“Nothing. I meant you’re the center of attention, that’s all.”
“Tell me.”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“You promised you’d tell me everything!”
He hesitates, then finally says, “Just that . . . you dated around. There are implications. And lots of graffiti in the boys’ locker room.” His voice is low, but it explodes on my eardrums.
A sharp heat shoots up my nose, like vinegar. Sean’s name is written in the girls’ locker room, too, but his comes with hearts. I have a pretty good idea which body part is scrawled next to mine.
“Boys are filthy,” Sean says. “They fantasize about you and attack you. It’s not your fault.”
“I may have gone out with some people, but nothing happened!”
“I know, baby. I know. I don’t believe any of it.”
“What have you heard? Give me one example.”
He looks everywhere but at me. I wait. “Well, for example . . .” He lets out a reluctant sigh. “When you dated Liam Turner, he used to brag about how you let him . . . do things.”
“I didn’t even let him touch my car!” My blood boils, at Liam, at Sean, at everyone. “You know I went out with Liam to spite you. I bet you never defended me!”
“How was I supposed to defend you? You broke up with me. It was bad enough being on the same team with him. I had to listen to him bluff about how you said he was ‘better.’”
The tears come fast. If anyone so much as catcalled at Sydney, Dylan would give them a ruptured spleen at the bare minimum, but Sean didn’t do anything. He only listened. Didn’t he tell me how he tends to avoid confrontation at all costs?
But he did specifically ask me not to go out with Liam, and I did it anyway. I remember flaunting my relationships in Sean’s face, so smug about how easily I made friends, how confident I was with boys.
Turns out they don’t necessarily like me.
I have a reputation. And I have no one else to blame but myself.
“I didn’t let them . . .” My voice barely rises above a whisper. “I never did any of the things that we . . . that we . . .”
“I know. I don’t care about that.”
But he does care. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have hesitated to date me in the first place. He wouldn’t have assumed I cheated. He wouldn’t be so wary about my friendships with other guys or so tense about people twisting our kiss in the storage closet into something worse.
“That’s one more flaw I bring to the table. One more thing you have to fix.”
He blinks. “What?”
The words claw their way up. “I’m sorry it humiliates you to be with me!”
His jaw clenches, and the irritation is unmistakable in his eyes. “Why are you saying this to hurt me?”
This is it. Sean hates public scenes more than anything, and nothing mortifies him like being yelled at in a crowded hallway. He won’t put up with my mess anymore. This is the day he walks away. A few steps away, people are whispering and pointing at us.
A chill runs down my spine as I wait for him to break my heart. My tears are dry, but my eyelids still burn.
He takes a step closer and wraps me in a hug. “Please don’t say things like that. I love you. I love you.”
I tremble in his arms. He says it again, his voice as firm as his embrace, and I nod. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’m fine now.”
“You sure?”
I force out a smile. “Yup. Let’s go to lunch.”
“Do you need to fix your makeup?”
He’s thoughtful, as expected.
While he waits outside, I step into the restroom to reapply my eyeliner. A wide-eyed girl in the mirror stares back at me, mascara smudged, and I almost don’t recognize her.
Everyone agrees Sean’s a great influence on me. I’m a bottle of Flora by Gucci perfume, diluted with his virtue. The same pretty packaging, the same black bow, but the content inside isn’t quite the same.
I can’t decide if that’s a blessing.
But there’s no question that I love Sean with everything I have.
I love him inside and out, from his immaculate face to his kind heart and his grounded personality.
I love the sweet boy he is now and the responsible man he’s becoming.
I love his strength and his vulnerability, his efficiency, his practicality, and the way he always knows what to do.
The more I know him, the higher I build the pedestal I’ve placed him on. I look up so much, I never notice how small I’ve become.
When I step out, Sean smiles at me as if nothing has happened. He takes my hand as we head to the cafeteria.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I’m really sorry.”
He squeezes my fingers, a little tighter than usual. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
I glance up at him and feel dirty. I don’t deserve him because he’s too perfect.