Page 119 of Withered

“I really like you, Rose.”

I know I should be happy; I should probably scream and dance, but I stand shocked, tears pooling in my eyes.

“Really?” I ask, trying to confirm that it isn’t a dream and that he said it.

“Yes. I like you.” He dips down and pecks my lips.

The tears seep out, trickling down my cheek and ending on my lips.

“I like your smile, your laugh, and the way you nibble on your lip when you get nervous. Come to think of it, I like everything about you from the start.”

“Then why did you say there was nothing between us.” My voice wobbles.

“I knew you were special. I don’t walk around sharing every detail of my life. I was scared that if I stayed, I’d lose you. But I don’t want to anymore. You decided to stay this time.” He wipes my tears with his thumb.

He cups my face in his hands. “Stop crying. I hate to see you cry.”

More tears flow, but Jake kisses them all, wiping away every last drop. Starting from my eyes to my cheeks to my lips.

I stop crying, not yet believing that he likes me. I stare into those forest-green orbs that gaze back at me, a tiny smile on his lips. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I hug him. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest.

He seems taken aback by my affection as he goes rigid, but he relaxes and hugs me back, his arms going around my waist and nuzzling his head into my neck.

“You smell like strawberries. Can I eat you?” Jake remarks and bites my earlobe.

I giggle and move back. Jake’s smile is so genuine, showing off his dimple.

Today began weirdly, with us not talking to each other, then arguing, and now here we are. My life is always well-planned; I know what I want and what to do to get it.

However, with Jake, it’s all capricious; I never know what will happen.

“Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?” I ask, biting my lip.

Jake smirks, “Yeah. If that’s what they call it. I don’t need a title to be with you.”

He continues, “I was here before the title, and I’ll be here after that.”

My uneasiness turns into pure joy when I hear his words, and I peck his lips. “Did you eat?”

Jake smirks. “I have not eaten you yet.”

I playfully push him away.

“Let’s see what we have in the kitchen.” Jake tugs on my arms, and we go downstairs.

He flips the switch as I stand at the door. He finds the leftover chicken and puts it in the oven to heat it.

I ask, “That’s what you eat?”

“Yeah,” he replies, leaning beside the oven.

I enter the kitchen. “I’ll make you something.”

“What do you want to eat?” I ask, looking inside the fridge.

“You,” Jake voices. Even though I can’t see him, I can tell he’s smirking.

“Smooth. Other than me?” I ask again.

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