Keys to his heart

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"Want to go for a picnic?" Oskar asked, pressing a kiss on my shoulder. I stopped playing the piano, turning to him.

It'd been a couple weeks since I told my mother about Oskar and I. She had been wary about me going to his house, in fear that something uncouth might happen, but she still let me go when I asked. It was only a couple times, but each time she gave me a stern warning and a threatening punishment that would loom over me. Thankfully, they had yet to be enacted as I remained trustworthy in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Oskar had grown comfortable peppering me with kisses whenever the chance arose. Whether it be at his house, in the piano room, or just out on the street. Every opportunity he had, he found a way to place a kiss somewhere on my body.

To say I was happy about the public affection would be an understatement. When I first thought about what would happen between us, I instantly worried about a private relationship. I understood why some people did it and I was certain I could do it; but I would only be able to handle it for a little while before it would become unhealthy to keep going.

So I asked Oskar about it. I nearly jumped in joy when he replied that he was hoping to have a public relationship, if I was okay with that. I, of course, said that was exactly what I wanted, which resulted in me pressed against a wall, every piece of exposed skin being covered in kisses.

"A picnic sounds perfect," I replied, smiling. "Any idea where?"

"Leave that to me," He replied, grinning. "You just free your Saturday."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah, lemme just quickly shift the life saving surgery I had planned. Darn people needing organ transplants. Who do they think they are?"

"My apologies, Dr. Ronan. I was unaware you were a world renowned heart surgeon."

"Shame on you."

"Tell me Dr. Ronan, can you help me with my heart?"

I raised my eyebrow, curiosity burning through. "With what?"

He placed his hands over his heart, smiling. "Someone's stolen my heart."

I felt my face heat up. He laughed, pulling me into a hug. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling the musky lavender smell. He gently kissed my temple, nuzzling my head. I sank into his embrace, closing my eyes.

God, I was falling for this man.

A few days later, I was standing in front of my mirror, staring at myself, cursing at God for not making me a fashion gay. I had tried on the jeans and flannel, but decided it was not my style. Now I was stuck between sweatpants and a T-shirt or dress pants and a button up shirt.

Help, I'm crippled with indecision, I texted my best friend. Which outfit do I choose?

I sent her two pictures, one of each outfit. A few seconds later, she responded.

Sweatpants and T-shirt, She said. You're going to be out during the evening.

Thank you, I quickly texted before tossing my phone aside. I threw on the outfit she had decided, grabbed my phone, and hurried downstairs. Oskar said he was going to pick me up, and I was worried he was going to be waiting forever for my slow self.

"Off to your picnic?" My mom asked, sipping her tea. I nodded, flopping onto the couch.

"Yeah," I said, glancing at my phone. "Oskar will be here soon to pick me up."

As if waiting for me to say that, a text appeared on my lock screen, a heart beside the contact. I grinned and jumped up, running for the door.

"Love you!" My mom shouted. "Have fun! Be safe!"