11/28 by uliaj06

nineteen

After he stands, we walk together in search for a jewelry place. I keep my hand in a loose fist, curled, so his ring doesn't slip off, fidgeting with it with my thumb as we walk.

"We'll have to go back to your car, Tate." I tell him before we get any further.

"Why?" He continues walking.

"Because I left my purse in there. My wallet's in there." I explain.

At this point, we've been walking for so long that I don't even know where his car is, or how far it is away. We both lost track and forgot to remember where the car was, just enjoying the moment and walking around.

I didn't think I needed my wallet since he said he was paying for everything and I wanted to walk freely. But, I'll feel bad for making him pay for a ring, a ring for myself.

I'm fine letting him pay for cheap stuff like breakfast, lunch, or the chocolates since he's rich and he insisted. It's going to be my ring though. I don't know how much it'll be and I'll feel bad letting him pay for something like that.

"Ro, I'm paying for it." He says it like it's the most obvious thing.

"No, I don't want you to." I tell him. I already feel guilty.

"Well I am, and we aren't going back."

"Tate, I have money. You don't have to pay." I insist.

"And I have more money. Jesus Ro, it's a goddamn ring, stop being a bitch."

"What if it's like $100?" Convince him. Convince him. How the fuck do I convince him?

"Easy."

"What if it's $200?" I push.

"Just shut up. I'll pay."

"Ok, what if it's $1,000?"

"For fucks sake." He mutters. He digs in his pocket and pulls his wallet out. I watch him, not knowing what he's doing. "Here." He hands me his credit card.

He hands me his fucking credit card.

It's black.

I recognize these types of cards, and they have a shit ton of money in them.

My stomach drops as I look down at the card he's handing me. He's handing it to me like a fucking lollipop. Like it's nothing.

"What- what do you- what is that for?" I timidity take it from him, gently, as if it's fragile and it'll break.

"Have it, use it, I don't give a fuck how much you spend."

"That's your credit card.."

"And I have plenty more. Just take the damn card and quit being stubborn. You're gonna give me a fucking headache."

Cocky much.

I study the card, reading over American Express, I couldn't believe I'm holding a card like this. I run my finger along the numbers, just the fact that the black credit card is in my hands makes me feel so nervous, yet powerful.

I look up at him, but he was already staring at me, watching my reaction.

He probably saw how my eyes lit up, explaining the small proud grin playing on his lips.

We stroll for a few minutes, making light conversation in between until we find a jewelry store. We passed a few jewelry stores, but I let Tate decide which one to go to since I didn't know anything about jewelry. He said this was a good brand so I follow him inside.

We enter the store. It was bright, as in almost everything was a clean white. The floor, walls, ceiling, desks, chairs, most of the stands the jewelry's in. It's spotless, elegant, organized. I'm sure there's not a single speck of dust in this room.

Lights illuminate the jewelry to give it that full glittering effect, making the diamonds and different metals sparkle and gleam.

I didn't know I wasn't walking, until I saw Tate in front of me, already talking to the person behind the counter. Of course, I follow him.

I stand next to him, clueless about what to say or do, letting him do all the work. I admire the store while he talks to the woman, glancing at all the necklaces on display and all the different types of rings.

"Ro, lemme see your hand." I hear him say, snapping me out of my own world.

I give it to him. "The other one." He rephrased.

Right.

I give him my other hand, the one that has his ring on my finger. He holds it, bringing tingles all up my arm at the cold contact.

He takes his ring off from my finger and hands it to the woman behind the counter. "Do you have a smaller version like that?"

"Let me go check." Says the woman.

While the woman goes over to the rings section, Tate leans against the glass, looking at the assortment of jewelry. I join him in doing so, staring at the diamonds and gold on the necklaces and bracelets.

Jesus.

It brings up the daydream of walking down the stairs towards an extravagant gala with a chunky diamond necklace and matching earrings, bracelets, and rings that glimmer so much in the light people can't help but stare because they know what you're wearing is probably worth more than their car or house. And of course, the rich man beside you who could afford any jewel you could possibly want.

The luxury life.

I could probably be that if I wanted it enough – all about the mindset, ladies – but honestly, I don't have the confidence.

"You know, if I ever get married, which I won't, but if I will, I wouldn't want a diamond ring." I mention.

"What?"

"I wouldn't want a diamond ring." I repeat. "Instead of diamonds, I'd want crystals, or anything other than diamond. I want something different, not diamonds." I explain.

"Why?"

"It's just prettier. And I remember this one party I went to, an engagement party, a friend of Lynn's, and she was one of those spiritual people. Y'know, like she's into crystals, and moon water, and those cards thing that tells you your future. The engagement party was very different, in the most beautiful way possible, they had plants everywhere – cause she loves plants – and there was sage, and flowers, and crystals, and stuff like that."

"What does that have anything to d-"

"She showed me her engagement ring, and it was this beautiful purple crystal, and the actual ring itself wasn't gold or silver, it was darker, more rustic in a way and I remember looking at it and thinking to myself, I want that."

"Crystals.." He says thoughtfully.

"Yes. It changed my view on things."

Before he got a chance to respond, the lady came back with four rings, setting each one next to each other, in a line.

"I have these." She tells us.

I look at the four different rings, study them. The details, the colors, each different in their own way.

I start to overthink.

Overthink about the color, the details, the size, the thickness, the weight, the feeling, the price.

This is stressful.

I felt him nudge my arm, grabbing my attention. "Try them on."

Right.

Smart.