I'm Yours

Teenage Dream

Toto's POV

I hear the door open and soon shut as I pack my things. I take a minute to assess my day before going to her immediately. I have never been around anyone who makes me feel or act in such a way. It is not that she is driving me literally insane, but all I can imagine is her taking everything I can give her. That can be up for interpretation for most people, but I mean it emotionally, financially, and mostly physically. This isn't to say that she is someone who is lost and needs a solid figure in their life to help them. But I want to be there for her to release the built-up pressure inside her. I've been making mental notes the entire day on her reactions towards what I do, the consistent blushes (which is fucking adorable), over-apologizing, always working and keeping busy and, most importantly, self-doubting her abilities or things she rightfully earns. She has had a strict upbringing because I exude the same traits, except I'm now established and want to help her. She needs a dominant hand to help her become the person I know she can be. She is a good girl. Hopefully, my good girl and I will do anything to build her up and be more powerful.

Shaking off this inner monologue, I turn to exit the hall and out of the building. I see her in the distance, just admiring the skyline; the shade of orange is beautifully falling on her, and the city, and seeing her brings a smile to my face. Walking towards her, "Ready to get dinner? You can put your things in the trunk of my car while I drive to the place?" This is still surreal for her since she stumbles over her words, "Uhhhh..... sure ...... l-lead the way!" We walked silently as I led the way to the parking garage. I had to slow down my pace so she could walk close by to me and allow her to just slow down for a bit since I knew her day must have been busy, but I glanced towards her. She is on her phone again, typing away on her notes app. I decided to comment on it since I noticed it all day, and I know she isn't doing it intentionally. However, she can't stay in the moment or still. "You are such a busy person. Do you ever get a chance to just stop and relax?" She saves the notes and looks up at me, a little embarrassed, but responds nonchalantly, "Not really, but I like being busy. It fills a void, you know." It makes my heart ache to hear her say that, especially with such poise. Being busy fills a void; this poor girl never gets to have time for herself.

No wonder she is constantly moving, and it's at an alarmingly rapid pace. She doesn't give herself a break; she must be burnt out. I've decided that when she comes to Brackely, she will be close to me, and I will bring her to races to relax. I retort back, since I am confident it needs to be taught, "Y/N, when you start your fellowship, your first lesson is the art of boundaries because you clearly need to learn some." I smirk at her with this comment. I intended for her to know that boundaries are in all aspects of our lives, and she needs to allow me to teach that to her. Pulling me from this thought, "Boundaries have been nonexistent in my life, and I'm always willing to learn new things, so why not." I am at peace that she agrees and senses that this is an actual learning opportunity to build a helpful habit and that she is willing to let me help her.

We headed into the building, repeating the actions I had done earlier, and started leading the way to my car again. She followed closely until I reached the car and popped open the trunk. I place my shoulder bag in the trunk and turn to help her take off her backpack and place it in the trunk. What surprised me was the weight of her bag. It was heavy; no wonder she fell backwards when I bumped into her, "How do you carry such a heavy thing on your back? This must hurt." I am genuinely astonished at the amount of things she goes through. She giggles and tells me it is part of the workout routine, and the comment makes me shake my head; at least she is being humourous about it. I press the button for the trunk to close and try to back her up until she is leaning against the trunk. She turns red from my actions, curious about what I will do and how close I am to her, and she bites her lower lip. I just look her deep in the eyes; I want to do so much but don't know where to begin. I caress her cheek, then switch the positioning of my hand so her cheek is in my palm, and my thumb is swiping her bottom lip; I want to be the only one that tugs at that lip, but to make light of the situation while keeping it intimate, "Ohh... Liebling, you should bite your lip; we will eat soon. You don't want to waste your appetite." But I still swipe my thumb across her trembling lip. I pull away now, lead her to the passenger side, and get her safely in the car as I go to the driver's side and take us to the restaurant.