Page 126 of Lily In The Valley
“You’re annoying,” she said, breathless, chest heaving.
“Keep saying that,” I said. “I’ll show you annoying.”
She rolled her eyes. But her body moved closer to mine, her foot resting lightly against mine.
We left the restaurant in no rush. The air outside had a chill misty and soft making Kelly lean into my side without saying why.
“You full?” I asked.
She sighed dramatically. “Beyond full. You might have to carry me home.”
“That’s fine. I got strong shoulders. You trust me?”
She pinched her fingers together. “A little bit.” She laughed.
We cut through the side streets, my mind remembering the directions for our next stop. Warm light glowed inside the second-floor apartments. An occasional dog barked behind fenced courtyards. I liked walking with her like this. Unrushed. Unbothered. It was a short walk to the private theater. One screen. Twenty velvet chairs. The guy at the door barely looked up as I handed him the code.
“This feels like a trap. Is this when you make me join a cult,” she muttered, walking behind me.
“Chill, Lily-girl. You gotta stop watching those documentaries.”
Inside, I handed her a warm popcorn box and a tiny bottle of wine. We settled into a lone loveseat at the back. The lights dimmed.Love Joneslit up the screen.
“Wait…” Kelly paused, sitting upright in her chair. She looked around, her eye flitting between the still empty seats around us and the screen before us. “Did you rent this place out?”
I shrugged, but my smirk gave me away. “Something like that. It helps when you know people.”
“And how did you get them to play my favorite movie?”
“Because I give a damn about making sure you have everything, love.”
She blinked, then turned wide-eyed, biting her lip. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Lily-girl.”
I didn’t talk much during the movie. I didn’t need to. Kelly whispered the poem scene. Smiled at the parts that used to make her roll her eyes when we stayed up late watching the film in college. Halfway through, she curled into me, resting her head on my shoulder. When Darius said, “Let me love you just like that,”she shifted, like she felt the line in her soul. I looked down at her, the glow of the movie dancing across her face in blue and gold tones. She glanced up, catching me watching her, and I knew I was stuck.
“You’re not paying attention,” she whispered.
“I am,” I said. “Just not to the movie.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in, pressing her lips to my jaw just once. Just enough to set the air between us on fire. When the movie ended, we didn’t rush to leave, even when the credits faded to black and the screen went dark. We exchanged soft glances, as she let me taste the sweetwarmth of her throat and hold the soft curves of her hips. She never stopped me.
Long after our food settled, after the end credits rolled, after we’d made it back to her apartment, we stood by the large windows of her living room, staring out over the Seattle’s night sky. I walked behind her, pulling her tight against my chest. Her head rolled back to the space between my jaw and shoulders. She breathed softly.
“I used to think love was something you earned,” I finally said. “Like if you showed up enough, got it right enough, people wouldn’t leave.” She didn’t say anything, just waited for me to continue. “I realized, I spent so long trying to be someone worthy of love, I forgot how to be someone who could just receive it.” I turned her to face me, my hands resting low on her back, forehead pressed to hers. “I love you, Kelly,” I whispered against her lips. “I want to do this right.”
“You are,” she replied.
The kiss was slow. We were writing it as we went, letting it build with no urgency, just intention. Her hands curled at the nape of my neck. Mine slid up and down the slope of her spine. We didn’t rush the moment. Just let it unfold.
By the time we made it to her bedroom, it wasn’t about heat. It was about finally being here. Together. Present. Breathless. Unafraid.
We didn’t rush. We undressed each other in pieces. Not for the reveal, but for the permission. Each layer a question. Each touch an answer. Her dress slid over her shoulders like water obeying gravity. My hands followed its path, mapping familiar territory I’d been aching to claim as mine again. She tugged my shirt over my head like she needed to feel the skin underneath just to believe I was real.
When I kissed the curve of her shoulder, she sighed like she’d been holding her breath for months. Like this moment was heroxygen. Her fingers traced the tattoos on my chest, soft at first, then pressing into me like she was grounding herself. When she whispered my name, I felt something in me settle. Anchor. Break free.
“I got you,” I murmured into her skin. “Let me talk to you.”
