"I can't drown you out..."
– Nautica
❀❀❀
~ D O R O T H Y ~
January 1998
Kissing in the rain with the one you truly love...
One would naturally expect that to be one of the most exhilarating and romantic things to experience, given how it has been glorified for centuries through poems, novels, plays and films. Having experienced it last night, I can attest to that. It was bold, electrifying and wild. I found it intriguing how the sound of the rain dissolved away and how the freezing sensation of the raindrops hitting my bare skin was overshadowed by the warmth exuding from Reece's body.
But it's funny, really. How at the time, I felt alive. Happy. Oh, so happy. Fulfilled. Comfortable. Just right.
But now...
"A... A... ACHOO!"
"Bless you," mother says, sitting next to me on my bed with a soaked towel in hand.
"Gosh... I feel like I'm dying," I groan, before snatching a tissue out of its box and blowing my nose into it rather ungracefully.
I then lean back against the headboard of my bed and sigh. I woke up about an hour ago with a bad headache, fever and a runny nose. When mother noticed that I hadn't come down for breakfast, her concern brought her into my dark bedroom. She found me sprawled underneath my thick duvet with a high fever and surrounded by at least a dozen tissues.
"You should have kept an umbrella," she admonishes, gently dabbing the towel on my forehead.
I nod silently, knowing fully well that even if I had taken an umbrella, I'd still be completely drenched. But she doesn't need to know that. No mother needs to know that about their daughter.
My mind immediately drifts to Reece. I hope he's not sick. Gosh, I really hope he's not sick.
"The soup is simmering at the moment," she informs, snapping me from my thoughts. "It'll take another 45 minutes for it to get ready, but in the meantime, drink plenty of fluids."
The moment mother found out that I was sick, she decided to make me tomato soup. I nod again and she picks up a mug of warm breakfast tea from my bedside table and hands it to me.
When I take a sip, I hear the front door shut followed by faint footsteps which grow louder and louder.
"...Do you hear that or is it just me?" I whisper, wary.
My bedroom door is thrown open before a massive handwoven basket carrying blood red roses comes into view. And the person carrying it is panting heavily at the doorway. But what strikes me about this person is that he is formally dressed, with his black trousers, white button-up shirt and a pair of polished black leather shoes. His hair, however, is all over the place.
"Reece?" I croak out before I look at mother. "You told him?"
"I only told Linda," she replies innocently, before standing up. "I need to check on the soup. I'll let you two be."
Then, she walks out of my bedroom, patting Reece on his shoulder affectionately as she does so. Once the two of us are left alone, Reece, staring at me with worry clear in his dark eyes, leaves the basket on the floor and strides towards me. I can't help but admire how handsome he looks.
Gosh, how on earth did I manage to get him to fall for me?
"Ree–"
He interrupts me by holding one side of my face with his left hand and pressing the back of his right hand on my forehead.
"You're burning," he whispers.
"I'm glad," I say, sending him a feeble smile.
"You're glad that you have a high temperature?" he asks with wide eyes.
I shake my head.
"I'm glad that you're not sick," I clarify.
Then his serious expression melts away, paving way for his chuckles, deep and low.
"Even when you're sick, you somehow manage to amuse me," he says, before he becomes earnest again. "It's my fault. I should've taken better care of you last night–"
"Not at all. Even if I had known that I'd end up like this, I'd still... you know," I say, making him raise his eyebrows. "Besides, I honestly feel a lot better now that you're here."
At my words, he simply watches me in wonder before his face nears my own. When I realise what he's about to do, I drape my duvet over my face as fast as lightning.
"Now, now. Why is my Dorothy hiding?" he asks, amusement laced in his tone.
"I don't want you to get sick," I say.
"But I want to kiss you."
"You'll get sick."
"We can be sick together."
"What?"
He pulls the duvet from my face, smirking.
"Think about it," he continues. "We can whine about being sick together and cuddle each other for warmth and comfort."
"No thank you," I say. "I can cuddle Oscar instead."
"Oscar?" he says, raising his eyebrows.
With my index finger, I point at the octopus plushie sitting on my study desk. He follows the direction and sighs.
"I knew I shouldn't have won him," he mutters under his breath, before he crosses his arms. "Well, Oscar won't keep you warm like I would."
"We are not cuddling," I finalise, making him shrug.
"It's a shame. The weather is perfect for cuddling."
I glance at my window. It's cloudy and a white layer of frost covers the roofs of the houses opposite to mine. I then look back at Reece, who is smiling innocently with his dimples visible.
"What's with the outfit?" I ask, in an attempt to change the topic, eyeing him up and down.
"I had a thing," he simply replies.
"What thing?"
"An appointment. But it wasn't important."
"Reece, did you–"
"I brought you goodies," he quickly says, interrupting me.
"Hold on now–"
But it's too late. He stands up and retrieves the basket from where he left it.
"To cheer you up," he continues, placing it on my bed.
"You got me roses," I say, admiring the beautiful bouquet as I fall for his trap. "No one has ever gotten me roses – or any sort of flowers – before."
He sits down next to me, his fingers intertwining with mine.
"I wanted to bring a more colourful set of flowers, but Valentine's is in two weeks' time and the shop I went to only had red roses," he explains.
"Oh yes, Valentine's is coming up," I say, nodding.
I pluck a rose out and offer it to him.
"Be my valentine?" I say, smiling.
A corner of his lips tugs upwards.
"Be my everyday?" he replies, accepting my rose.
My smile grows as my heart rate picks up.
This boy...
He's slowly turning into my everything.
"Always," I say.
Then, we stare at each other, silently making an agreement between us - that we do not need anyone else. That it's just me and him against the entire world. That no matter how broken we are, our pieces will always fit together. That we complete each other.
Reece eventually breaks our eye contact by lifting the bouquet from the basket, revealing a variety of sweet delicacies that were hidden beneath it.
My eyes widen.
Muffins. Donuts. Slices of cakes. Cookies.
All of them chocolate-flavoured.
"You didn't have to, Reece," I gasp, looking at his face. "Seriously."
"I want to spoil you, Dorothy," he says.
"You really shouldn't."
"Hey, don't take that privilege away from me."
"But it's so much sugar, Reece. I swear, if I die of diabetes, I'll come back as a ghost and feed you sugar in your sleep until you die of diabetes."
"Then we can be ghosts together, haunt people and live happily ever after?"
I stare at him in disbelief. To be honest, I find him rather immature. Not in an annoying kind of way, but more in an unexpectedly entertaining kind of way.
"Geez..."
A short while later, after I manage to eat half a muffin (my appetite is crippled), the chills get to me. Noticing my shivers, Reece takes off his shoes and slips under the duvet before I have the chance to protest. But once my body is exposed to his warmth, I acquiesce.
"Dorothy, your feet are freezing!" he says. "You're not wearing socks. Where do you keep them?"
"In the drawer," I mumble, cocooning myself in my duvet.
He leaves my bed, making my body yearn for his warmth. But then, realisation that my socks are tucked in a drawer that also contains my underwear and bras hits me. But it's a little too late, as he has already opened the drawer. But he does not pause. He simply pulls out a pair of socks, shuts the drawer, turns around with a normal expression and approaches me.
He sits on the far edge of my bed, completely nonchalant, as if he saw nothing. Gently, he peels away the duvet from my bare feet.
"Reece, I can do it–"
"Let me," he says, adamant.
He rests my feet on his lap. He slips a sock onto my left foot before proceeding to my right foot. He then covers them with my duvet before he joins me under the duvet once again.
Honestly, at this point, Reece is more than just exposed to my germs. So, I give into my desires, resting my head on his chest and sighing in comfort. Reece, in turn, envelops his arms around my small frame.
It feels nice to bask in his warmth and embrace.
"You really are shivering," he points out, gently stroking my back with his right hand.
He plants a long kiss on the top of my head, making me feel like the luckiest girl alive.
"Can you read to me?" I ask after a moment of silence.
"What should I read to you?"
"Anchor."
"The 'sorrowful love' story?" he says.
I nod with a small smile, flattered that he remembers how I had described the book a while ago..
"I was supposed to read it today to study the characters in more detail, but my eyes are too tired to read," I explain.
I was also supposed to study for my Biology test next week, but given that Reece does not take Biology, I do not want him to struggle with helping me revise something that may be gibberish to him.
He nods, understanding, before he picks up the book from my bedside table. He opens to the page where my bookmark is and clears his throat.
"'Colton had wanted things to hurt him'," he begins. "'Cigarette smoke to burn his lungs, glass shards to slice his skin, pavement to scrape his knees. He did not admire beauty. He did not admire promises. He did not admire the kind of love that was so strong, yet so transient. What he did admire, however, was tragedy, for truth is borne from tragedy...'"
I cannot help but liken Reece's voice to a lullaby, soft and soothing to the ears. I can listen to him speak forever.
"'...Until Aspen happened'," he continues. "'He found beauty in her. He made countless promises to her. He loved his moon as if she were his religion. And the tragedy that he once held in such a high regard is now the object of his worst nightmare...'"
As Reece reads on, I am lured into his warmth, snuggling closer to him and closing my eyes. His voice continues to grace my ears until my consciousness slowly seeps into oblivion.
***
A ringing sound disrupts my sleep. Although the sound is not loud enough to jolt me awake, it is loud enough for me to be aware of my surroundings. My bed moves as Reece shifts his body until he picks up his phone.
"What is it?" he answers, whispering, unaware of my attentiveness.
I hear a faint voice from the other end, but I cannot make out the words.
"...Cancel it..." he continues. "...I couldn't just leave her. I had to come back..."
What is he talking about? Couldn't leave who? Me?
"...Fine, if it really is that important, then send the replacement. No one will notice anyway..."
Replacement? For what?
"...Right... Bye, Dave."
Dave?
Oh my gosh...
Was that what Reece's appointment was about? To deal drugs to his 'clients'?
But wait, isn't Reece a bit too formally dressed for that? I mean, I'd expect a dealer to wear something inconspicuous, like a dark hoodie and sweatpants or something.
Goodness...
I feel a small urge to wake up fully, confront Reece and demand the truth from him. But, when he shifts again until his arms wrap around me securely, I feel even more comfortable. His warm embrace compels sleep to wash over me again.
***
When I wake up, the first (and only) thing I see is Reece's sleeping face. His arm is wrapped around me protectively. Smiling, I snuggle closer to him and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth and our proximity. But then, my mind drifts to his conversation with Dave.
I wish he'd tell me the truth already. I made a vow that, no matter what, I will always be by his side. Does he not trust me yet? Is he afraid that I'll run away from him if I knew? To be honest, I'd be afraid too if Reece were to find out my dark secrets.
After a few minutes, I open my eyes, surprised to see Reece staring at my face.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, smiling at me.
"A bit better," I reply, before my eyes land on his shirt. "I may have drooled a bit on you though."
"I'm guessing you dreamed about me then?" he says, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
While a part of me is relieved that he is not grossed out by it, the other part, however, is pleasantly surprised and amused by his smugness.
"I dreamed about Colin Firth," I say, making him frown.
"He's a bit too old for you, no?"
"Age is just a number."
"And so is 999."
"You will not send Colin Firth to prison," I state.
"If it's the only way to keep you mine, and mine alone, I don't see why not."
Playfully, I smack his chest.
"Possessive much?" I drawl.
Then, he lifts my entire body, making me squeal in an unladylike manner, until I am on top of him with the front of my body pressed against his.
"Only for you," he whispers, watching me in amusement.
"Geez."
He then pecks my lips, catching me off-guard.
"Don't blame me if you get sick," I say.
"Never."
My eyes widen when realisation hits me.
"Reece, what if mum walks in?"
"Don't worry, she has gone out to do her weekly grocery shopping, fully aware that she left you in the best of hands," he says, gesturing to himself.
Talk about smugness overload.
As I watch his cheeky face, I realise that I should put more effort to show him that he can trust me. I want both of us to trust each other. To feel safe with each other. I want to open myself up to him and I want him to do the same to me. No secrets. Just pure honesty and openness.
"Can I choose where we go next Friday?" I find myself asking, fiddling with one of the buttons of his shirt.
"Of course," he replies.
"But we'll have to stay there for the whole weekend."
He raises his eyebrows, curious.
"Where do you want us to go?"
"St. Anne's," I reply. "I want you to meet someone very dear to me."
And I also want him to learn something about me – more specifically, my past.
There is a pause of silence, during which Reece watches me with a blank expression as if he is in contemplation. I wish I can read his mind, know what he's thinking about and what he's feeling.
He then breaks the silence.
"Then I will meet that person."
*~*~*~*~*
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