CAPITOLO DODICI
the fundamentals of a sixth date
***
"WANT ANY, ROSE?" Amber's assistant asks her, a plate of brownies in her hand.
"No, thanks, I'm allergic," Rose replies, seeing the pale chunks of walnuts in them. She never understood why anyone would want to put anything other than chocolate chunks in brownies.
"Oh, that's alright. I baked another batch."
That's how she finds herself spending her break with Amber's intern, who's name she still hasn't learned, melted goodness in her mouth. They sit beside each other, on the floor outside the building, where her coworkers took smoke breaks. The skies are muddy tonight, as if she was looking up through plastic glasses.
"Another one?"
"Sure," Rose says.
Her eyes fall on the gold necklace on the girl's neck and she reads a small, printed, Sophie, on the plate of the delicate heart. Tiffany's. Rose would recognize it anywhere. It's lucky for Rose that Sophie wears a fashionable name-tag.
"How do you like Amber?" Rose asks.
Sophie looks at her with widened eyes. She's currently holding an e-cigarette in her fingers and Rose can see it's the strawberry liquid kind.
"Um," she says, "I learn a lot from her. She's really nice."
The intern's answer makes Rose laugh a bit, reminding her of the answers she'd get when she'd ask boys what they thought of her girl friends, back in middle school. High school brought a whole other onslaught of viciousness that never really let her go.
"She really likes jellyfish, just a heads up," Rose tells her, before brushing off the brownie crumbs and heading inside.
Once she's inside, she can't really explain why she did that. In the company, Rose is the one that hardly comes to functions and events—unless they're mandatory—and is the last on the list to talk to anyone other than the models she's working on, her supervisors, and Amber. Maybe it's the inexplicable feeling she got when she saw Sophie with her strawberry e-cig, her corkscrew hair blowing in the afternoon wind. When she was starting out, she could've used all the tips she could get.
It takes a while for her to soak all the tips of her brushes in soap water—after the long ten hours she's had, she's used up her arsenal of tools. After laying them out on paper towels, she sits down on her stool and waits for Lucien to pick her up.
Domestic life was starting to scratch at her exterior and at twenty-four, Rose Kaufman would never have pegged herself as someone dependent on another person. It's always been that way, she supposes, since she got adopted. Even though Jessica will always be her mom, Rose had to gain an independence at an unholy age.
The phone in her lap vibrates and it's her cue to pick up her bag and suitcase to head out of there.
A soft purring from Lucien's car interrupts the vacant atmosphere and parking lot. Rose gets in, after Lucien's packed her belongings in the trunk and opened the door for her. He starts driving onto the main road, feet easing into the pedals.
"Dinner?"
"I'm kinda tired. But sushi would be nice," Rose says.
Her eyes haven't yet taken in Lucien, as she's still staring out the window, a hand covering her chin. But as she says, she's tired.
The drive lacks the exhilarating energy she once lusted after, and she takes the time to give a sideview to him. Bomber jacket with a gray tee and dark-washed jeans. Rose can name every article of clothing he wears—she's got the eye for the kind of thing.
"What did you do today?" she asks. "What do you even do?"
He chuckles a bit at the tone of her voice and glances at her before keeping his eyes straight.
"I haven't told you this, but I'm CFO of a company."
"No."
"You thought I didn't work, right? That I just jacked off all day?"
"Well..."
"It's the family company and my mom wants me on deck. I like it though," he says.
"Oh. So, like, Hell Studios, right?"
"You could say that. We're based in Italy."
"So, how long did it take you to learn how to business?" Rose asks. Her interest has been piqued, despite her numbed mind.
"I've been businessing my whole life. Not long," he replies.
Lucien can pass it off though, the CFO look.
"What do CFO's do?"
"Financial things and presentations. Keeps my mind busy," he says.
"Interesting..." Rose says and they sink back into silence, lingering smiles on their lips.
For someone in his position, Rose would've bet her whole life he didn't work but she guessed wrong. For someone in that position, Rose would never work a day in her life. She supposes it's different when you've been around for that long.
"Is sushi your favorite?" he asks, once they get into the joint.
"It's definitely up there. I like most things but I'm picky, sometimes," she says.
"Picky?"
"I don't eat seafood and a lot of other small things. I eat salmon though, and shrimp. Depends on how it's cooked, usually. Why are you smiling like that?"
"I've never seen you talk like this."
Rose gives him a puzzled look but realize they hardly talk about trivial things on most days.
"Kinda like it," he says at a lower volume, almost to himself, as he parks the car.
***
ROSE LETS OUT a giggle, "Ok, but would you rather have no knees or no elbows?"
"No elbows."
They're seated in a booth, and Rose is intoxicated. Not by sake or beer, but by the atmosphere of the restaurant, and by the cuisine. Most importantly, by Lucien. Their night together started off rocky but they somehow ended up here.
"What? No elbows would kill you," she says.
"No knees means you can't walk right. Also run. What if someone was coming after you? Also, how do you put on shoes?"
"How would you put on shoes with no elbows? You can't even touch your face," she protests. "How would you brush your teeth or wash your hair? Or even, wash your whole body?"
"You can't sit down with no knees," he points out.
"Sure you can. I'll do a demo once we get home," Rose offers.
Their plates of sashimi and rolls have been emptied and they're currently waiting on their order of dessert, Hakuto jelly shared between the two, perfect for the summer weather outside.
"I need my leg dexterity, Rose. I'm very serious about it."
"Whatever you say," she laughs.
It's starting to get late now, and candles are starting to be lit at tables. The quivering flame reflects from Lucien's pond-green eyes, and it reminds her of the stained glass she once saw at a hospital chapel. He's busy digging into the jelly, and as ten p.m. would call for, his hair's slipping out of their wax. Rose prefers it this way, because of the natural loops they have.
"Would you ever get a pet?" Lucien asks.
The question takes Rose off guard and momentarily, she stares at him, before breaking her gaze and fiddling with the soy sauce dispenser. She needs to fill her nails. They're a pale thistle color.
"No. I'm not in the condition," she says.
"Allergies?"
Although Lucien asks with opaque eyes, Rose bristles. The question's far to innocent for someone with that much knowledge.
"Are you kidding?" she asks.
"No? Why would I be?"
These days, she's constantly jumping at people. Her relationship with Alex hasn't been mended at all, nor is it in the slow process of doing so. Just this morning, Rose contemplated the idea of never being his friend again, and decided she would be okay with that.
"Nothing," she says and backs down.
The blip in their conversation digs under Lucien's boots and he doesn't bring it up. Rather, he comments on how well they made the dish and prompts Rose to try it.
He's right. The peach flavor fits the mellow skies and she's never quite liked peaches at all, much preferring berries.
"It's getting late," he says after they pay the bill, split evenly between them. "And you're tired. Unless there's somewhere else you'd like to go?"
"I think this date's over, Luce," Rose says, stomach content.
"Oh, this is a date?"
His playful snark is bouncing back, as he grins brightly, white teeth cutting her vision. Rose notices that he has a shallow groove on the corner of his right lips. A dimple. Bypassing her brain, her finger swoops in and touches it.
Lucien's smile fades and he stares down at her, eyebrows pulling lower over his eyes. From this angle, she can see every individual lash fan out from his lids. They're a bit glossy, like he hasn't rubbed them in a while.
"Dinners are always dates," she says, and recovers herself.
"I think this is our sixth one? But who's keeping count, right," he says, and unlocks the car doors. "Top down tonight?"
"Not feeling it. I don't want to spend three hours detangling my hair," Rose says.
It's a thick, coarse texture, and always a pain to dry, considering its length. When it gets humid, her baby hair's curl and frizz up, further prolonging the time she has to style them. Ideally, she'd never have to touch her hair in the mornings but it's easier to tie in a ponytail during her shifts if she straightens it.
"Josh isn't home tonight," Lucien says.
"So?"
As he accelerates the car, he turns to her and quirks his eyebrows.
***
"YOU KNOW WHAT they say about sixth dates..." Lucien begins.
"I know what they say about third dates," Rose says.
It's not what she imagines, as they're lying in his bed, still over the sheets.
Rose turns her body to face him, and sees that his eyes are closed. She blows out a steady stream of breath, rustling the hair that's fallen onto his forehead. He squints out of his right eyes, looking up at her.
"Don't fall asleep on me," she says. "Sixth dates are for staying up all night."
"Sixth dates are for cuddling. Afterwards," he continues their banter.
"And most importantly, sixth dates are for ugly confessionals. Sin up, boy."
"Are you, Rose Kaufman, really ready to tell the truth?" he asks, his turn to roll to his side and look at her. "You haven't been very truthful lately, have you?"
"You don't know if I'm lying or not."
"How are you so sure?"
"I've mastered my facial muscles. Diligently, since I was a freshman at fourteen."
"Well, my thousand years of experience can never beat that."
"For once, you're right," Rose says.
"I'll begin. I have a fetish for devil's food cake. And lace."
The inflection of his voice makes her fall onto her back, laughing. It lasts for a while, and once she's done, with the back of her hand draped over her forehead, she sees that he's chuckling as well.
"And my dad's a sly man, Rose. He makes promises that he keeps but it will never be what you want. Not when you're done," he says, this time, not a lift to his cheekbones.
"Hush," Rose says.
The urge wins over and her palm softly raises to his jaws and they meet halfway, her elevated and clutching onto his neck with her other hand, and him bent under.
His tongue still holds the lingering taste of their dessert and Rose imagines her's would the same. She's slowly sinks back down, Lucien over her, as they continue their kiss. His hand falls on the side of her, digging into the bed to support himself, and then he's finished.
"A kiss after each confession. That's the rule," he says.
"Alright," Rose complies.
By the swell in his chest, and his uneven breathing, she's caught him off-guard and his qualification is a mean to regain composure. At this point, his jacket is off and so are Rose's earrings.
"I lied to you," Rose says.
He gives a satisfied smirk. "But which time, though?"
"When I said I only cheated on Gray. I've cheated before. Lucien, it's bad, I know. It also sounds ten times worse when I say it out loud. I don't know why, most times, or why I do things like this, I just-"
And her voice is too flimsy to carry on, as her throat catches onto her tongue and she starts crying.
"They didn't deserve it. But neither did I, you know?" she says through her ugly heaving. "I've never had a boyfriend. Only people I see and people who are attracted to me."
Her hands are busy wiping away her liquid guilt, but she's not done giving away yet.
"Alex doesn't want to associate himself with me anymore."
But, as he promised, Lucien kisses her, with an open mouth, five times, for each confession he's counted behind his back, but maybe he's lost count because he continues it. His hands grip her waist, and then her back soothingly, until she finds herself on top of him.
The pressure makes him groan but Rose is too worn out to move so they lie, ragged panting, and Rose still sniffling.
"I also have a fetish for hot girls crying."
They laugh but her tears are starting to paint patterns on the front of his shirt but he buries one hand in her hair, and works on combing it through. The gentle pulling and tickling of her scalp evens her heaving and she closes her eyes, the feeling that her rims are bright-red.
It's not long before she wraps her legs, her arms, her whole body around him and hugs him to sleep.
And that's what they say about sixth dates.
***
a/n: hey everyone! hope you enjoyed this read and i'm slowly getting into the groove of this again so hopefully, updates will be far more consistent than they have been lately. things are starting to pick up pace, and i have a feeling the next chapter will bring a sort of....closure ;) anyways, check out BUZZED HEARTS for a light-hearted read on love and friendship and have a superb weekend !!