“Thanks, Oliver.” She says welcoming me into the apartment.
After I hand her the flowers, she raises the bouquet directly to her nose and breathes them in for a long while.
“They smell as beautiful as they look.” She tells me before she darts away to get a vase and I’m given the opportunity to get a closer look at her home. Last night all I saw was Gabriella and darkness.
Neutral tones with bright pops of color. A beige rug but a bright blue couch with faux fur pillows in white and grey. Basic cream walls that match the ones in my apartment, al la renter, but a canvas with splashes of paint in vibrant colors hung in pride of place.
And while clean there is a healthy amount of clutter. Books on the coffee table and side tables, knickknacks scattered across all surfaces and photo frames on shelves and her mantle.
I see one golden frame with Gabriella at the center with her arms around a set of twins. Their hair is a shade of red just bit darker than Gabriella’s and they stand a tad taller.
“So your sisters are twins?” I ask as she comes into the living room from the kitchen.
“Yes, but now it’s easier to tell them apart. Stephanie died her hair black last week and Fiona has been threatening to shave her head in retaliation.” She tells me with fondness in her voice.
“Retaliation?” I ask.
“Their faces are identical, and Fiona says that if she has to look at her face completely washed out by box dye then Stephanie can look at her face without any hair.” She explains.
Suddenly I am grateful I only have one younger sister. If Pen is fighting with anyone, it’s me. And it’s never over hair. It’s always about dear old dad. Or about giving her daughter too much sugar.
“I don’t think she’ll actually go through with it. Fiona is very vain, and Stephanie would have already fixed her hair if she didn’t have such a cow about the whole thing. She hates it.” Gabriella says with a laugh.
Thrilled she is telling me so much about her family I grab her hand and tug her closer. With her pressed against my body I can feel each of her curves. As I lean over to kiss her, I smell the peppermint that has lingered from her coffee.
Her fingers snake their way into my hair pulling me closer and tugging my head this way and that to get a better angle. Her mouth tastes more like chocolate than peppermint and I have to pull away to stop myself from carrying her over to the couch. I promised to take her dancing and dancing we shall go.
Even if my cock is insisting on bending her over that couch and fucking her until she’s boneless in my arms.
“Get your coat.” I tell her gruffly when she lingers, “We have a date planned darlin’”
“So bossy.” She says with a slow trailing look down my body.
Gabriella heads to a room I can only assume to be her bedroom. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want to follow her and do a different kind of dance tonight.
She returns promptly and her puffy red jacket startles a laugh from me. It looks ridiculous with its fur lined hood, like she’s on an Alaskan expedition to research glaciers. She cocks a hip and crosses her arms attempting to look upset but her lips twitching towards a smile give her away.
“I’ll have you know I bought this jacket in a colder climate.” She begins, “Also it matches my boots.”
Glancing down I don’t know how I missed the red cowboy boots at first glance.
“Well those certainly make a statement.” I say after a long pause. It’s the only thing I can think of to say that ain’t negative. And I’ve taken too long to make it seem flattering if her frown is any indication. As much as I loved her heels, I hate those boots.
She waves her hand through the air like she’s brushing my awkward commentary away.
“You don’t have to like all my footwear. You just need to like me.” She says.
“Trust me I do.” I quickly reassured her.
“Then stop staring at my boots.” She says with a stomp of said boot.
“They have glitter.” I say. Again not negative. Just a statement.
“They do.”
She stares me down, daring me with her eyes to denounce her boots. In truth I think they’re hideous but they’re not on my feet. And they’ll be better for dancing than the heels for sure.
“So I take it you figured out we’re going line dancing?” I ask to try and change the subject.
