The 18th Floor

Chapter Thirty Nine

By Saturday night, dad, Lucien and I have had a large dinner, cooked by me and dad earlier today, stressing and faffing about in the kitchen. Lucien told dad what he had already guessed and dad said he was happy for the both of us, and as long as Lucien kept me happy, he was happy.

I never explained the full details of last night to dad, but I let him know it involved a lot of opening up and we both knew what we were getting ourselves into. How we planned to handle our messy lives together.

"Can I see your room? Properly this time?", Lucien asks.

I nod, and lead the way to my bedroom he has seen once before.

When you enter my room, my bed is to the right, with a small bedside table near it. I have a small sofa opposite the door, and a wardrobe and book shelves that run along the rest of the wall.

I watch him, as he takes my room in. Scanning my bookshelves and smiling at all the little things scattered around my books, from photos to little trinkets.

I move myself onto my bed, leaning my back against the wall, as I continue to watch him learn little things about me, I wouldn't think to say.

"Ferrari cap?", he questions.

"This is a F1 household", I say.

He turns to me and smiles and I can't help but smile back. And then his eyes travel to the top of my bed.

"Who is that?", he asks, pointing to the worn out purple unicorn sitting amongst my pillows.

I reach over to grab her, "this is Lillabet, don't laugh at her. She'll get upset", I tease.

"My sincerest apologies Lillabet, your presence is greatly valued", he jokes.

I throw little unicorn at him and he catches, giving it a little kiss. He looks at my night stand, a stack of books under a lamp and several boxes of pills.

"Have quite the little pharmacy there."

"I know", I say, pulling a blanket over me.

"You give me a run for my money."

"Not two mentally unstable people joking about depression."

"Who would have thought?", he says as he throws Lillabet back at me.

I see his eyes catch my other wheelchair.

"Go sit in it."

"What?", he says.

"Relax, you'll be able to walk after. Just go sit in it."

He rolls his eyes at me and goes to sit down. I forget how built he is, filling up the chair and making it disappear. "You should stop going gym, you don't fit in it", I joke.

"What, then risk not being able to carry you everywhere?", he laughs flexing his muscles.

My bedroom is wide enough that he starts pushing it and I see the moment his brows furrow as he tries to figure out the way to navigate it.

"Fuck. You probably have better arms than me", he jokes.

He brings himself in the chair to the edge of the bed, opposite where I'm sitting.

"I never want you to feel less than when you're with me. Or even if you aren't with me, I want you to know you're beautiful either way", he says as tears fill my eyes.

Before I know it, he's up and scooping me up before sitting back in the chair, me on his lap.

"I like this seating arrangement better", I tease him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I like it too."

"What, you're going to carry me around everywhere all day?", I joke back.

"I'll worship everything you touch Cyrene", he says as he kisses me, deep from within.

His hands start exploring, "we can't. Not here with my dad", I whisper.

He nods, as if he forgot he was at my house. Instead, he takes my hand in his after giving it a kiss. I'm always weary of the blisters or hard callouses that form on the insides of my hands sometime, but then, I find Lucien kissing every sore and I find myself with butterflies erupting in my stomach.

I get the polaroid camera off my bookshelf and tell him to pose as I attempt to take a selfie of us. It captures just our heads, with more of the frame being made up from my bed in the background.

"Give me that, you don't have long enough arms", he huffs.

Lucien's long arms prove to be useful. He somehow manages to capture all of us up to our waist, me in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

"Mine for you, yours for me", he says as he hands me the photo he's taken.

With one arm wrapped around my waist, he raises his hip slightly to remove his wallet and place the polaroid in the photo area. My stomach tightens in awe.

"Are you sure you don't want another photo there?", I ask as I take of my top.

"Oh?" he smirks.

I nod back.