Sprinkle All The Way (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 14

fourteen

NOAH

After days of teaching Violet how to bake, she suggested winding down tonight with pizza and a Christmas movie. Not wanting her to leave, I was all too quick to agree. Spending so much time with her is bringing me right back to when we were in high school. Every time I make her laugh I’m ready to throw my doubts out the window and ask her for a second chance. She hasn’t stopped wearing the red lipstick, and my dreams have been filled with nothing but her. One dream was just her slowly putting lipstick on and it was torture, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to last.

Now we’re on my couch as Home Alone plays, the pizza long gone. We would watch this one to start every Christmas season, with her cuddled next to me. The volume would always be turned low since we didn’t want her parents to come find us, useless in retrospect. We’re mirroring that same position now, she’s curled next to me but we’re under separate blankets. If we were under one I would pull her closer until she was sitting on my lap. My dick seems to like the idea and I have to take a deep breath to calm down. I also keep my arm around the back of the couch and away from her shoulders so I’m not touching her too much.

In addition to being surrounded by her presence, I’m starting to realize how having her here makes me want to do better. I don’t think eighteen-year-old Noah ever realized how much confidence she had in me. I always assumed she had the underlying thoughts everyone else wasn’t afraid to say. How I was worthless and I wouldn't amount to anything. But maybe she always saw me for who I am and not some fuck up. Maybe I could shake off the pressure of trying to prove myself and learn to be happy with where I am right now. Especially since I had the one person I’ve wanted for years next to me.

“You know I thought about you a lot in New York,” I tell her when she nuzzles closer into my side. I figure if she doesn’t want to hear it we can let the movie play. But I can’t let another moment go by without clueing her into the fact I might want more from her.

She perks up at this, lifting her head and looking over at me. “Do tell.”

“Well, passing by any flower shop automatically brought you to mind. One time I bought a bouquet of just violets. My roommate was confused when I came home with flowers for myself.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she won’t stop staring at me.

“What?” I ask, laughing nervously, worried this might have been a bad idea.

“That’s really sweet,” she says, and I think she might be about to cry. I don’t want her to cry right now, so I think of something else to tell her. “I also thought of you every time I saw a rat.”

“Noah!” she yells, hitting me right in the chest. “That’s so mean.” She laughs, wiping her eyes and I relax .

“Because you hate them, that’s all,” I defend myself. “New York has a lot of rats.”

“Ugh, I do hate them. Their tails freak me out.” She shudders. “Things reminded me of you too. Especially whenever I saw a fallen Christmas tree.”

“Touché,” I say, tipping an imaginary hat toward her. I want to ask her to elaborate on what actually made her think of me instead of her joke, but I don’t want to push her if she isn’t at the same spot as me.

She smiles at me, grabbing my arm off of the couch and pulling it around herself as she rests her head on my shoulder. I don’t move as she gets comfortable next to me. I don’t want to mess this up, going eight years without her tucked next to me was a mistake. Even if she didn’t want anything back then, it seems like we’ve moved past that and fallen into our familiar ways.

Her fingers play with mine and they move to touch the small tattoo on my wrist. I have no doubt she can tell my pulse quickens as I watch her trace the lines with her fingertip. It’s my oldest tattoo, faded in looks but not in memory. I’ll never forget the night I got that one.

It was one of the nights Violet could hear my parents fighting from her open window. I had wasted no time climbing down my roof and into her window to escape like every other time before. She never questioned me either, I think she could tell when I didn’t want to talk about it. I’d climb in and she would already have the trundle bed pulled out, and I’d collapse onto it and join her in whatever she was doing. Half the time it was homework, so I would just lie there and listen to her write. Her pen would always find its way to something else though, whether it be my skin or my shoes. She was always doodling something somewhere. My Converse high tops were fully decorated with her drawings because she was too scared to draw on her own shoes, afraid her parents would yell at her. I didn’t mind being the canvas for her.

One night when I came over she was experimenting with stick-and-poke tattoos, adding a violet above her knee while wearing these tiny pink pajama shorts that drove me wild. I watched her finish it and asked for one next. Right on my wrist next to a scar I had gotten from walking through one of my parents fights and getting hit by a piece of a plate as it broke against the wall.

She asked me what I wanted and I pointed to the one she had done, telling her, “I like that flower. How about that?”

She nodded, and got to work after that. Both of us stayed silent as she gave me a matching tattoo. I thought she might tell me to do something different. But I wanted part of her with me anywhere I went.

It was the first time she had her fingers on my skin that long, and I never wanted her to stop touching me. No one’s touch ever lingered on my skin like hers did. Having her touch the spot again is different from all the other times she’s touched me since being home. There’s something more intimate in the way she slowly runs the same path over the lines sending shivers down my spine. I’ve fully forgotten about the movie now, only able to focus on her and how her breathing has become heavier.

“You still have this?” she finally asks, gaze never leaving the tattoo.

“Of course,” I say, lifting my other hand under her chin and tilting her head to meet my gaze. “I couldn’t cover up my first.”

“Why not? It’s only a silly little flower,” she says through a jagged breath and I can see the rise and fall of her chest quicken as I hold her face in my hand.

I pull her closer with the slightest tug under her chin, and she follows shifting to fully face me, dropping my wrist. Her floral smell fills the space between us as my now free hand moves to the base of her neck and over the goosebumps on her skin. “It wasn’t just a flower,” I whisper.

Her eyes close and her mouth parts as I run my thumb along her neck to her pulse point. The beat of it quickens and my dick hardens under my sweats. I realize this is the closest we’ve ever been with this kind of quiet tension. The heat of her breath on my lips and the last bit of my self control is disappearing.

“Hey, Vi?” I whisper again.

“Yeah?” Her response is breathy as she keeps her eyes closed.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” I say before I can back out of the one thing I’ve dreamed of for years.

“Okay,” she replies, sucking in a breath.