His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Twenty-One: Valentine's

Chapter Twenty-One: Valentine's

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Ophelia:

It took me like, over an hour to get ready for our date tonight. I wanted to look nice and smell nice and... well, taste nice I guess.

By the time Luke's knocking on the door, I'm waxed and shaved and showered, wearing a pretty dress and light makeup. I have my hair done in soft waves that just hit my shoulders, an overnight bag packed and ready to go, and enough butterflies crowding my gut to fill an entire house.

Mom and Dad haven't left for their date yet. My entire family tries to be subtle as they hang out watching TV in the living room in full view of the front door as I'm about to leave.

When the door swings open and I catch a glimpse of him, I swear I lose my breath.

He's so handsome. Perfectly-fitted jeans and a light-blue button down and a black jacket and nice shoes, freshly-showered. His dark hair is combed into place except he runs his fingers nervously through it as the door opens, mussing it inadvertently. Tall and lean and gorgeous and... mine. How lucky am I?

His mouth falls open a little as he sees me and the way he looks at me, like I'm the only thing he can see, makes me warm from the inside out.

It's cold outside so he steps in and closes the door behind him, carrying two modest but beautiful bouquets of flowers.

"Hi," he greets softly, giving me a shy, crooked smile.

"Hi." I bite my lip and resist the urge to jump into his arms because my parents are watching and I don't think he wants my lipstick all over him just yet.

He glances into the family room and gives an awkward wave to our audience. "Hi, guys."

A chorus of polite hellos.

Luke looks a little nervous and I don't blame him. I also don't look behind me to see the curious, sulky expression on Darcy's face, or the murderous glint in my dad's eye, or... Yeah, my family is a little... overprotective.

"Oh, uh..." He holds out one of the bouquets, some pretty red and pink roses bundled with baby's-breath and wrapped in brown paper. "These are for you." Another heart-stopping smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Could he be any more perfect? I lean in to give his arm a squeeze and press a grateful peck to his cheek. "They're beautiful, thank you."

He scratches the back of his neck before looking towards the couch, lifting up the other bouquet, and saying, "Uh, Aunt Mel, these are for you. Happy Valentine's Day."

Yeah, apparently he can be more perfect.

Mom gets a very soft, warm, happy look on her face as she walks towards us and accepts the flowers from Luke.

"That's very sweet, Luke. You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey."

She rests a tender hand on his shoulder and says, with a dry but playful look towards Darcy, "Even my own son didn't get me flowers."

"We can't all be as upstanding as Luke," Darcy replies with a shrug, and from the arch of his eyebrow I can't help but think that the word "upstanding" has an inappropriate double meaning.