Huff, huff, huff.
Pastel pink bed sheets creased and wrinkled in disarray; tall windows fogged from increasing heat; and crumpled clothes lined the soft carpet, leading to the bed that hosted a tanned, blonde vixen and a tired, out-of-breath party boy. Blake laid propped against the bed frame, one hand rested against his forehead to catch the sweat that flopped his once-styled hair and the other limp along the curve of Lola’s lower back. Here in this pile of disheveled sheets, pillows, and comforters was a college guy—falling just a hair short of love—with the girl he craved just as much as he did thirty minutes ago, before sex. Blake’s eyes were still glued to her body, infatuated both with her amorous physique and the personality that flaunted it.
Meanwhile, Lola was lying facedown on the bed next to Blake, mindlessly scrolling through her social media apps on her phone. The blonde hair that was once neatly styled was significantly tousled now, and her cheeks glowed pink with the remnants of what had transpired between her and Blake for the last half-hour. While her indifferent demeanor could be interpreted as complete disinterest in her companion and their previous liaison, the assumption couldn’t be farther from the truth. A mixture of relief and euphoria were filling up every fiber of her being: from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. After the weeks spent apart tossing and turning in bed, looking for the answer to the persistent question of whether she was truly in love with Blake or not, confirmation had been received. This was not an infatuation, or a crush, or a passing interest in a person she considered physically attractive. This was definitely something else. And although her body language didn’t show it, Lola was jumping up and down with joy on the inside.
“Do we really have to go to that stupid party?” Lola complained, making no motion to get up from her comfortable position. They'd gotten into this scenario with an unspoken agreement: once they’d finished ‘catching up’, they would get dressed and go to The Great Bash. But in reality, she didn’t want to go to the stupid party. Why they couldn’t spend the rest of the night in this bedroom ‘catching up’ some more was beyond her, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Blake ended his huffing with a sigh, trying to even out his breaths to speak clearly. “I mean,” he paused, hesitant to counter her desires to save himself from an unwanted argument. “Can’t you just let me show you off a little bit?” He smiled at her.
That earned him a chuckle and smirk from Lola. “Show me off to who, exactly?” she teased, tossing her phone to the side and shifting around the bed to rest on his chiseled chest instead.
Blake lifted his arm invitingly, repositioning himself to make a comfortable pillow out of his chest. He chuckled under his breath, one hand combing through her knotted, though otherwise silken, hair. “Anyone and everyone. I’d tell the world you were my girl if you’d let me.” The statement was bold, released without second thought and immediately half-regretted. Thankfully, she was turned away from him so she couldn’t see the heavy blush that heated his face.
The young woman’s deep sigh was immediate. “Can we not go down this route again?” Lola snapped defensively, shifting around once more so he was facing her back instead. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Blake was head over heels in love with her. He had never outright said it (most likely because he knew she would freak out if he did), but even an idiot would be able to piece it together. And, honestly? Lola knew she felt the same way about him too. He had so many of the qualities she wanted in her ideal partner: handsome, charming, sweet, considerate, affectionate, with the kindest, most beautiful heart and so much love to give. She knew she was an idiot for pushing him away so adamantly, and she knew that it would break her heart to ever see him with somebody else. But the idea of putting herself at the mercy of somebody else like that was a more terrifying prospect in her eyes.
Blake’s mouth opened to speak, but he was shut down by her defense. He was careful with his words with Lola, understanding her fiery spirit well by now—though simultaneously admiring that spice about her. His heart called to him with words of complete adoration, accumulating until he felt so full of emotion that it pained him, causing the crease in his forehead and the frown of his lips. He knew he couldn’t express his undying fondness for her, but he became used to living with the craze, so he didn’t speak at all. Instead, he gently stroked her back with his finger. He started at the curve of her hip, going up to the small of her back and to the base of her neck. Blake moved to kiss the soft, delicate skin between her shoulders before resting his forehead against her in defeat.
Although the sounds of Lola’s sorority sisters could be heard faintly in the distance, the silence inside the room was deafening. The blissful atmosphere that had filled the empty spaces around them just a minute previously had soured, replaced with the usual tension that came every time the sensitive topic of what they could be was raised. She didn’t need to be looking at Blake to know he was probably bursting from the inside out- because she was as well. It was so difficult to keep her walls up around him, to watch the way his face fell every time she pushed him away, or how his eyes glazed over with sadness at her cruelty. It was a constant, titanic effort to keep him at arm's reach. And for what, exactly? What had pushing Blake away brought her so far, besides supposedly protecting her heart from potential harm but breaking it herself instead in the process by risking the loss of the one man who had ever truly loved her? Nothing other than shared, unwarranted pain.
This was all too exhausting… It was time to finally grow a pair, take a leap of faith and let it go.
“I’m just scared…” Lola finally croaked through the silence, her voice betraying her by breaking slightly at the end of her admission.
Blake was shocked, lifting his forehead from the gentleness of her back to properly look at her. He watched her hair fall to cloak the expression that he was desperate to see. The mix of emotions was crowding him as he let the silence ride out longer. An unforeseen fragment of Lola’s feelings came out in the form of a shy whisper, strumming the peculiar chord his sensibilities created. Her choice of words was hard to decipher, and hard to react to; but after careful thought, Blake approached the anxiety that dressed her voice in insecurity.
His arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace, a kiss resting gently on her forehead. “Baby, you don’t have to be scared with me.” The moment was raw in form, and he was selective with his responses, afraid the genuinity would slip between his fingers.
And that was all it took for Lola to suddenly whip around, wrap her own arms around Blake and collapse into a sobbing mess.
Blake had never seen Lola cry before. It was the first that she’s ever shown her vulnerability to him, the true feelings that sat behind her veil of fire and charm. The once romantic situation plummeted to deep emotion, but it came with a satisfying clarity, yet still added confusion. It was clear to Blake that Lola had been subduing strong emotions, whatever they may be, and handling it independently. For Blake, he immediately blamed himself, feeling that his selfishness of always prying at her feelings was what turned into this. But how deep did these revealed feelings go?
He comforted her, a similar sadness hinting in his own voice, “Baby, no. . . Why are you crying? Don’t cry. You don’t have to be scared. I’m sorry. I promise things are okay, things are always okay.” The conviction in his voice veered off and became desperation.
Instead of calming her down, this only made Lola cry a little harder. She hated that Blake’s immediate reaction was to assume he had done something wrong and apologize. Had she really strung him around in such a way for so long that he now believed he was the root of all her issues? That was messed up, and it made her feel ashamed of herself.
Eventually, her sobs subsided enough to allow her the power of speech again. “This isn’t your fault, handsome. You don’t have anything to be sorry for...” she tried to reassure him in between sniffles, using up all of her willpower attempting to calm down. “It’s just…” she began again, looking up directly into Blake’s eyes so he could witness firsthand the raw emotions that were about to be exposed.
“I’ve been in control of the majority of the aspects in my life since I can remember. It makes me comfortable knowing that I have the reins of things, and that nothing happens around me without me allowing it. But then you showed up in my life like this fucking hurricane taking everything by storm- and all of a sudden I’m not in control of anything anymore. They all revolve around you now. And, like, I try so, so hard to keep a tight grip on my feelings, but every time we’re together I feel myself losing it a little more each time, and… I’m just done. I’m done trying to keep it together. I don’t have it together, and I haven’t for some time now, because…” she trailed off, looking away to blink back the tears stinging her eyes. “Because I’m in love with you, Blake. I’m crazy about you. And it scares me to death knowing that you literally have me in the palm of your hands.”
Blake watched her eyes glisten as she spoke, occasionally catching the tears that would fall with a gentle stroke of his knuckle. He listened intently, valuing each and every word that came pouring out of her soul like a decadent waterfall, proud that he was the only one to see the sight. It’s a peculiar feeling—when you dream of the way someone tells you they love you, and then experiencing it in a totally unexpected, unpredicted way. It came crashing into him like a mortar, flaming and forceful; but it landed him in a field of still victory and a strange euphoria—or in this case, a bed of satin sheets with a dim light from a lampshade. His heart stopped, his lips parted in shock, and his eyes beamed with mutuality.
There were so many recited words he would say when this situation presented itself, but he found himself to be speechless and cowardly. Blake pulled her close to him, his hand tangling in her hair. He tried to steady himself so she wouldn’t feel his pitiful shaking. Blake spoke—securely, meaningfully, and with as much heart as his rasping voice would allow—in a dramatic annunciation: “I. Love. You. Lola.”- which only made the young woman start crying again.
The moment contrasted Blake’s old vision in several ways: there was no music, just stillness; there were no birds, just them; there was no ocean nor view, just the messy bed and the mix of moonlight and lamplight. He continued, “I promise it’ll be okay. I promise I won’t disappoint you, Lola. Just please,” it was hard to talk, “Please let me be that guy. There’s no greater privilege than that.”
And when he asked like that- with those puppy-dog eyes, that intense look on his face, and that desperate, raw honesty in his voice- how did she have the heart to say no?
"If you break my heart, I'll break your face," Lola warned him, trying to look and sound tough and serious yet quickly letting out a watery laugh. It was a legitimate threat, of course, but she knew Blake well enough to be certain it was one she would most likely never have to see through.
And it was her flame that caught him from his fall. The same flame that ignited the night they met, raging whenever he laid eyes on her, and the same flame that now shines a different light. Not just one with hot red and crackling orange, but with foundation of blue and pink and yellow. Blake never experienced love quite like this, or maybe this is what love really felt like and his perception was what was flawed. It took him a little bit to forage his contentment, releasing her from the hug to show her his dimpled, genuine smile. “Lola, if I break your heart—I break my life.”
Lola couldn’t help but laugh, cupping his face in both of her hands and bestowing a sweet, tender kiss upon his lips. As relieved as she was to have finally been open and honest with Blake, it didn’t mean she was comfortable with verbally expressing her innermost musings all of a sudden. Of course, that wasn’t to say she wouldn’t show him how she was feeling. The blonde had always been better at communicating physically anyway.
The pleasurable satisfaction of her kiss helped level out his feelings, the thunderous affirmation of his heart and the crash that followed. Even as she released him from her kiss, he pulled her in tighter for a second one before he laid her on her back gently, the gold chain around his neck dangling down as he hovered above her.
Pulling away with a soft smile, Lola looked up at Blake. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you’re a theater major instead of Accounting,” she teased in an attempt to lighten up the mood of the very deep conversation that had just transpired between them. “You put up a hell of a performance.”
Blake let out an airy chuckle, breathing and kissing against her neck faintly. “Yeah, but they act in theater. I’m not acting right now. Are you gonna let me show you off at this party or what?”
“Not if you keep teasing me like this…” she mumbled, smirking slightly with her eyes closed. “You’re just over here pushing all the right buttons and expecting me to get out of this bed? You know me better than that, sweets.”
His cheeks stretched into a triumphant smile, “I like pushing your buttons.” He kissed again. “Well, the right ones anyway. But if you’re not gonna get out of this bed, then. . .”
Blake lifted her from the bed fast in an attempt to scare her-- which, judging from her loud, surprised shriek, had worked. He was carrying her with her legs around his waist again until they reached the countertop of her en suite bathroom. He set her on the counter gently. “Getting ready time.” He smiled.
And sometime later, the newly-official couple was making its entrance to the party: with a triumphant Blake holding his girlfriend by the hip and a smug Lola with her thumb hooked on his belt loop, her boyfriend’s golden chain hanging from her neck.
