ACHES

21. bury

"Are you sure you've done this before?" He teased, leaning into me as I placed my lips around the joint between his fingers. I gripped his thighs, just above the knees, kneeling forward as I inhaled. I let the smoke cool in my mouth, breathing it into the bottom of my lungs as I sat back onto my heels. I exhaled, coughing and feeling my face turn red.

"Sure I have," I giggled, crossing my legs. Our knees barely touched as we sat on the grass, the oak shading us from the unusual spring heat. "Just not with you."

"Ouch," he frowned, pulling the last of the joint into his lungs. He grabbed the corner of my jaw, grazing his lips over mine. He tugged my lower lip down, exhaling slowly into my mouth. I breathed him in, the mix of smoke and his sweetness leaving me dizzy. I laughed as he wrapped his hands around my wrists, dragging me into his lap. His back was against our oak tree, his head leaning into it. I kissed his open throat, drinking in the softness and warmth. I was giddy with his attention, feeling stupid and young and rebellious with my stoner boyfriend, in our own backyard, in our adult, mortgaged home.

"Look at you, all giggly," he kissed my neck, pushing my hair back. "We should do this more often."

"Sure," I smiled, my legs squeezing around his waist. I moaned as he dipped to my collarbones, letting him drag his teeth over the skin there.

"Sure?" He mumbled, shaking his head. "What else should I ask you, while you're being so agreeable?"

I flicked his shoulder, "I'm always agreeable."

"Sure," he winked, leaning back against the tree. I grinned, feeling heated and light. The wind flipped a curl over his forehead, and I set it back in place. I kissed his cheek, nose pressed into his cheekbone.

"You can ask me anything," I said, looping his hair around one of my fingers. His cheeks were a soft pink, his pupils stretched wide.

"What's your favorite color?" He licked his bottom lip, giving me his best boyish grin.

"Something better than that," I rolled my eyes. "While I'm agreeable."

"Take off your shirt," he tilted his head to the side, testing his limits.

"That's not a question."

"Fine," he sighed. "Will you take off your shirt?"

"No," I shook my head, my hair falling over my face. He laughed with me, pressing his forehead to mine. He pressed his hands into my waist, brushing his thumbs against my hips.

"Will you kiss me?" He watched me, his eyelids lazily fluttering open and closed.

"Maybe," I shrugged. His hands reached up my shirt, warming my back. "Come on, ask me something interesting."

"Hm," he frowned. Then, his face brightened, and he sat up a bit straighter. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh, quit it," I gasped. "Don't joke about that."

"I'm not joking!" He laughed, kissing my cheek. "I've got the ring and everything."

"Do you actually?" I whispered, my skin prickling. The breeze was cooler than it had been before.

"Bought it ages ago," he nodded. "What do you think?"

"You can't ask me that right before you leave," I mumbled, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Sure I can," he pulled me closer, his hands on my back firm.

"You can't ask me that when you're high."

"I'm not," he kissed me, three long kisses. "I'm not."

"Show me the ring, then."

"Sure," he smiled, reaching into his pocket.

"It's in your pocket?" I laughed, pressing my forehead to his shoulder.

"'Course it is," he pulled out the ring, slipping it onto my finger. I looked at it, watching the sunlight refract through it.

"I'm supposed to say yes first."

"I think," he squinted, "I think you just said it, right?"

I covered my eyes with my hand, "You're unbelievable."

"Let's get married," he whispered, grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands off my face. "You and me."

I laughed, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, okay," I kissed him. "You and me."

"Love you," he said, all sweetness and everything good. He was everything good.

"Love you."

"Love you."