It was the absolute closest thing to teenage lovers could get to a romantic, private candlelit dinner. Vibrant colors of the sunset cutting through the glass of the windows of her old farm house. A single blueberry votive candle and a bowl full of fresh, ripe apples at the center of the pristine kitchen table. Two places were set at the square table. Not facing each other, but each facing an empty spot. Just close enough to one another.
Her dark hair was piled messily on top of her head, her earrings shining delicately from her ears. Wisps of her hair kept falling into her face, so she continuously swiped at it as she stirred the sauce. She hummed and swayed to the soft music coming out of the sound system, her basic black cotton dress and floral apron moving with her. Her bare feet glided across the hardwood floor.
It was hard for her to believe that she used to hate her home, to damn it with every bad thing that had ever happened to her. But now she loved the place, this place of beauty, this place that allowed her to be with him.
He knocked on the door after getting dropped off and after grabbing one of the October daisies from her front yard. When she opened the door, he had his math textbook pinned to his side with one arm, the other one outstretched, holding the daisy. She giggled and took it, motioning for him tocome inside while fetching a glass of water to place the bloom in.
He didn't expect any of it, except for her bare feet and the affectionate smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. He thought he was just coming over to spend time with his darling girlfriend and study for the next day's math test; stealing as much time together was they could before she got shipped away to her father's for the weekend. When she offered to make dinner, he thought nothing of it, since he'd be there long after his own family would eat. He expected simple pasta or cold cut sandwiches, not a home-cooked meal that required an apron that, while silly, clung to her beautifully.
After placing the daisy on the table, she wrapped her long, pale arms around his neck. She placed one hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into it, kissing her palm. He put his hands on either side of her miniscule waist and pulled her to him.
Every time he kissed her, his lips somehow managed to crush her own while still remaining tender.
He could taste her vanilla chapstick and the coffee she had been drinking and just the sweetness that was her.
If she didn't have to let him go eventually, she wouldn't.
They both reluctantly pulled away from one another, but kept their foreheads together and stared at each other for a long moment.
"Hi." She whispered, smiling a little.
"Hi." He chuckled.