Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

37. Twenty-Three and A Half Dates

6 months later...

Seth and I have been on a total of twenty-two and a half dates. That half one is my fault. Long story, but it has something to do with my mom and an impromptu skiing trip. It wasn't pretty. She actually knocked out some teeth, and I've never laughed so hard in my life. To see a fifty-year-old woman missing her two front teeth—yes, definitely a moment you wouldn't want to miss.

Now, my interpretation of a date might differ from others. Some of ours have just been a quick drink together, or a meet-up in the park for a walk, but I still count them and he knows it.

I'm beginning to grow impatient though. It's been months and he hasn't attempted to go beyond hand-holding even once. Since the day in my dorm, my lips are lonelier than ever. Like, good grief, does he plan to wait until our wedding night? I have these fantasies/nightmares where my lips physically stretch off of my face and start chasing him around until they eventually smash themself against his mouth. It's extremely disturbing, but oddly a little bit sensual too. I end up spending the rest of the day aching for the teeniest of kisses from him. And yet... nothing.

And yes, I have finally conjured up fantasies of marrying the guy. I mean, who wouldn't? We've been sort of dating for almost six months now. Technically, it might not be official. In my head, we're dating, but I'd never verbally say that because we've never really talked about it.

Well, tonight is going to be date twenty-three, and I plan to glam my way into his heart. If this slinky black dress and ankle-snapping heels don't make his heart race, then nothing will. I just have to get his heart racing fast enough for it to jump up into his brain and start kicking some sense into him.

Seriously, boy! Want me! I need you to want me!

I've just spritzed myself with something Emma swears to me will entice any man—and this one doesn't smell like his mom—when there's a knock on the door. I nearly dump the whole perfume bottle onto my dress in my haste to set it down.

I'm a disaster—internally—because I can't get control of my thoughts. They're rattling out possibilities and 'what-ifs' all because I decided it'd be a grand idea to reveal my emotions tonight. I told myself that if he doesn't make a move by midnight, then the ball's in my court. I plan to knock him off his feet with the most heart-felt confession ever known to man.

But then I open the door, and that idea sinks to the very depths of my butt.

It's not a bad kind of sinking, though. More like a 'hurry up and vanish' kind of sinking. I need that thought to vacate the premises immediately. I'd chuck it right out of my head if I could, but that's not physically possible. So, instead, I stuff it someplace deep so that I can retrieve it later if need be.

But, from the looks of it, I won't be needing it.

Because, standing before me is a man—I'm assuming it's Seth, though I can't see his face behind the mammoth-sized bouquet in his grasp. He peers around the side of the garden in his hands and offers a warm smile.

"Thought you deserved these," he says, holding the armful of sunflowers out towards me.

No joke, I literally have to wrap my arms around the thing. Not just my hands... my arms! It's that big. I'm not a crier, but I could almost cry at how touched I feel right now. Sunflowers are my favorite. Like, I believe God made sunflowers for my enjoyment alone. No one feels the kind of passion for sunflowers that I feel. They're just so tall and elegant... and their petals match my hair. We're basically twins.

"I was going to get you a hundred-and-seventy sunflowers, but even I couldn't carry that many," Seth tells me. "So, I figured this would be the next best thing."