"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"faith"
"You look," he stood there with the goofiest smile and wandering eyes. Part of me felt as though he was not only taking in my entire ensemble but searching for the words to complete the sentence he started. "beautiful, Quinn."
"Just beautiful?" I raised an eyebrow. He did all that thinking just to come up with that? Tuh.
"Oh, my bad. . . You look exquisitely gorgeous, like starry nights in Jersey," he gave another smile.
I only cracked a smirk before easing my way past him and into his home. Upon entering, I was met with a candlelit dinner and too many roses to count. There were bouquets stationed on the floor in such a way that it created a pathway toward the table, where our meals already resided.
"What's all this?" I inquired just before his arms dropped around me, wrapping me in an embrace that felt like shackles. I felt his head rest against mine while he asked me if I liked the ambiance.
It was. . . overwhelming, to say the least. The additional weight he'd thrown onto me didn't help either. I could feel my heart quickening its pace as silence wavered. It wasn't until I could feel him easing his wrap on me that I even thought to answer his simple question.
"I. . . This is a lot, Romeo," I could feel relief washing over me as the distance between us grew. "You deserve a lot, Quinn," he stated, circling me so that now I could look into his eyes. He had a timid smile on his face as he reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine.
"Come on. The food's getting cold," he stated softly. He walked me over toward the dinner table, pulling my chair out for me and pushing it in as I sat down. He poured red wine in both of our glasses prior to sitting down. Once he was seated, he gave me another smile as well as a light chuckle.
"You look so tense," he noted. "I'm just. . . a little overwhelmed, Romeo. I mean— you didn't have to do all this," I shook my head. He laughed. "Of course I had to do all this, Quinn." "What makes you say that?" I inquired. "You don't take me seriously, Quinn. I'm just showing you why you should," he shrugged while picking up his glass.
"You'll never have to ask me to do things like this because they'll already be done. . . You call me Casanova, baby. Remember?" he took a sip of his wine. "Casanova had many lovers, historically speaking," I mumbled while finally picking up my fork and beginning to eat.
"Yeah. That's true. . . but there's a reason that Casanova isn't my actual name, Quinn. . . I'm a one-woman kind of man. . . Like Romeo. . . and if you'd quit playin' with me, you could be my Juliet," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. This man is so corny.
"I ain't dying for you," I shook my head. He chuckled. "You're ice cold, Quinn." "I'm practical. Besides, you ain't dying for me either," I pointed out. "Yes, I am. I'm dying right now. I'm dying for your love, Quinn," he stated.
