Rescue | Tronnor

Chapter Thirteen

TROYE
Following a brief but filling meal at some Italian restaurant, Connor and I find ourselves strolling around the neighborhood park.

"You know, you should have let me pay," I say.

"Nah," he says, "My treat."

We begin to pass under a line of trees with soft, pastel, lavender-coloured blossoms. Connor looks up and his face lights up. "Ah, I loved those when I was a kid."

I reach up and pick a flower off the lowest branch. "These?" I grin, handing it to him.

Connor spins the flower between his fingers. "Yeah." He holds it with such a light, gentle tenderness. "My, ah, first crush gave one of these to me when I was like seventeen." He jumps in a failed attempt to pick another flower.

I stifle a giggle, easily snatching another one and tucking it behind his left ear. "There. Good?"

He nods. "Good."

CONNOR
Am I blushing?

It's nothing, it's just a cute little flower.

Although... When his fingertips brushed my ear as he settled the blossom into the niche behind my ear... Oh. My face feels like it's on fire, I'm blushing so hard.

I lower my face and nod shyly.

"Hey."

I look up, my eyes meeting cool blues. "Yeah?"

He smiles, and looks down, then back up at me. "It's cute."

"Thanks." We hold each others' gazes for what seems like hours. I could spend forever getting lost in those blue orbs.

"Hey! Keep your gay-ass lovey eyes for private places, you disgusting fags!"

Troye and I whip around just in time to see a teenage boy speed between us on a skateboard. My eyes sting, and I just barely see Troye flashing the middle finger through a haze of tears.

I feel arms around me, and I instinctively draw closer to him, as if to make myself smaller. Maybe if I was smaller, I could just disappear.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay." Troye whispers softly as he rubs my back.

"I-I'm sorry," I say, wiping my eyes and pulling away.

"It's okay." He says, his face unreadable. "Do you want to go home?"

I nod meekly, and he walks me back to my car.

It's not until we're already driving that I realize that I dropped my flower. I reach up and touch the one behind my ear, sighing in relief when I feel the velvety petals.

I look out the window, becoming accustomed to the soft rumbling of the car.

As Troye and I pass a taxi, I notice a sleek silver Porsche gliding in and out of the traffic behind us. It settled in the lane to the left of us. I squint as I try to see the driver. I do, and I recognize him.

"Troye," I say evenly, "Put this on." I toss him my grey beanie, the one I always forget in the glove compartment.

He does, and musses his quiff so his hair hangs across his forehead. "Why?"

"He's passing us."

We sit in silence until the Porsche drives past us.

Troye lets out a breath. "Jesus." He laughs lightly. "He's going to be so pissed when he catches that damn taxi."

I giggle, and look over at him, seeing the pure glee in his eyes when he laughs. Awwwh. He's so cute, like a little kid.

"Hey," he says, looking over his reflection in the rearview mirror, "I like this beanie."

"You can hold on to it."

He smiles at me as we pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex.

I get out of the car and walk up to my door. Feeling suddenly nostalgic, I say, "Oh, I remember when I'd have a cat walk up to me and nuzzle me whenever I walked up my driveway back home." I sigh wistfully as I remember my two cats, Pre and Sam, back at my parents' house.

Suddenly, the car engine revs, and I spin in surprise.

"Troye? Troye!? TROYE WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?!?!?!?!" I scream down the street as he sped away.

I hear his muffled scream back, but I can't make out what he's saying.

"YOU BETTER RETURN MY BEANIE!" I yell.

Dejected, I rummage through the potted plant next to my door for my spare key, as my usual one was on my key ring. In the car.

I close the door behind me.