Til Death Do Us Part || Tate Langdon

the bonfire

      Over the next week or so, you were over to visit Tate almost every other day after work. You left out the fact that you knew him well and for years before this to Aunt Thea, but she knew where you were going and hoped her wish that you'd soon move out would come sooner than anticipated. You wondered what was keeping Tate at home with his mother at age 20, but not judgmentally or for too long: after all you guys did live in one of the most expensive states.

      During your times together, the years you'd lost didn't seem to exist. You two played board games, laid together binge watching shows on your phone, danced like idiots around his room to his vinyl collection, and napped together-- a lot. You knew he longed for connection in general, but having no other friends and a strained relationship with his mother, he was desperate to be touched. You often found yourselves holding hands while doing mundane things, or you'd run your fingers through his hair, or he'd have his hand lying mindlessly on your thigh. 

      As much as you loved hanging out with him, you wondered why you two never went in public together. You didn't want to push him just yet, but was brainstorming with Delaney one day when you two hung out after work.

   "So you guys just clicked again, everything back to normal?" She took a sip of her caramel Brulé latte, then grasped it between both hands just for the warmth.

   "Yeah," you said gratefully.

   "Wow. Why couldn't I meet my soulmate in elementary school and have a cute reunion like this?" She teased. You didn't respond quickly, as you were stuck on the word soulmate. "You good?" She snapped you out of it.

   "Yeah, sorry," you shook your head. "But, as good as things are, he doesn't seem interested in leaving the house. Should I say something, or wait 'til he asks me?"

   "I mean, it's not a marriage proposal, it's just going out," she reasoned. "Ask him. In fact," she took out a receipt from her purse, dug around for a pen, and upon finding one began scribbling words onto the crumpled paper. "This is Bart's address, he's having a bonfire this weekend. You could invite him to that."

   You gave a shy half smile at the idea of you and Tate wrapped up in one blanket warming yourselves in front of a crackling fire. You suddenly remembered how things had been between her and Tate, and said, "Are you sure? I know you guys weren't each other's biggest fans."

   "No, I never had a problem with him," she clarified. "He didn't like me 'cause he wanted you all to himself."

   Romantically motivated or not, that fact you couldn't deny. You thought for a second then said, "I think I'm gonna finally, officially make my move if he says he'll come."

   "You guys cuddle and hold hands and hang out all the time; I think moves have been made," Delaney teased, and you playfully slapped her arm with a smile.

   "Bart won't care?" you wondered.

   She waved you off, "No way. He's probably gonna drink so much he won't remember who was there or not anyway."

You nodded appreciatively, excited for this weekend's potential.

*****

      The following Friday, you of course were at Tate's. He noticed your excitement as soon as you got in the house, and was dying to know what you were thinking. The two of you sat in his living room this time, you were waiting patiently for your cup of cinnamon tea he'd promised.

   "Here you go, I put 3 teaspoons of sugar; I hope it's enough," he extended his arm to hand you the mug.

   "It'll be perfect, thanks," when you grabbed the cup, your fingers touched, lingering a little longer than necessary. Your heart skipped a beat, and he retracted first to take a seat across from you.

   "Okay, okay," he wiggled impatiently. "Now tell me what's going on."

   "I love hanging out with you," you began, and he flashed a heart-stopping smirk. "But I guess I was just wondering why we haven't been out together yet."

   He looked to the ground and chewed on his bottom lip, "Oh."

   "And Delaney's boyfriend is having a bonfire tomorrow." He stayed silent.
"I know you don't like crowds, but, you went to the Fall Festival with your mom," you encouraged. "And look what came out of that."

   He spoke in a monotone voice, "That's different." Sadness clouded his features.

   "Not really," you blew on your steaming tea. "Plus you'll be with me this time."

   "Yeah?" He asked quietly and longingly.

   "Of course. I won't leave you the whole night."

   He blinked a few times while avoiding eye contact, looking contemplative and completely torn. You hadn't realized his introversion had gotten so severe.

   "Okay," he finally said.

   "Okay?" you repeated happily, setting your drink on the coffee table between you two.

   "Yeah," he nearly mumbled. "I'll go."

   You stood quickly from your seat to throw yourself in his arms, "Thank you! This is gonna be really good, you'll see." He cautiously and lightly hugged you back, then you two parted and you returned to your seat, "Are you gonna want me to pick you up?"

   "Um, no," he spoke nervously, and to your surprise. A look of dread crossed his face, and you almost wanted to retract the invitation if it would be this stressful for him. You thought about how happy he'd be, though, once you made your move at the bonfire, and you let things be. You dug through your purse to retrieve the crumpled receipt Delaney had written the address on, and handed it over to Tate; he took it hesitantly.

   "That's the address," you told him cheerfully. "I think everyone's getting there around seven? Seven thirty maybe?"

His mouth twisted as he nodded and looked the paper over. You wished you knew what he was thinking.