Red Flags
1174 Words
It was dark, but for some reason, I felt extremely calm, my body relaxing into the seat. Florian had rolled the windows down, and my hair was slowly moving with the slow night breeze, a small smile playing on my lips.
"I should have done this earlier," Florian said suddenly, and I turned to him, my eyes taking him in. "You look so darn happy."
I laughed, then turned away again. "It just reminds me of the day I got my first car. Driving around the city, pushing everything away, and just..." I trailed off, then smiled.
He nodded slowly. "You look good when you're happy."
I laughed again, then leaned back, stretching my legs over the dashboard. My feet blocked the view, and I pulled away, my brows furrowing. I wanted to have my legs stretched but didn't want to compromise on the view in front of me.
Not like it was much, but the serenity, the light from the car cutting through the darkness, something about it just calmed me.
"Put it here," Florian suddenly said as he tapped on his thigh.
I chuckled. "How do you know I was planning on doing that?"
He laughed, shaking his head. He leaned towards me, his eyes fixed on the road. His hand wrapped around my leg, his fingers warm against my flesh. I swallowed as he gently pulled my leg to him, then rested it on his thigh, his hand running up to my foot, his thumb pressing down gently on the middle.
I swallowed hard, my eyes focused on him, the view I had been so interested in fading away to the back of my mind.
"I have no memories of you laughing like that."
He turned to me, his right brow raised for a moment before he turned away again and gave a small shrug.
"There wasn't much to laugh about."
I shook my head. "No. You... there was a time when you felt... more laid back. More... comfortable. I don't remember exactly when, but something probably happened, and when you got back, you were never the same."
He swallowed but said nothing, his hands running down my foot.
"Did something happen to you, Florian?"
He turned to me briefly but shook his head. "I just grew older."
"Happens to the best of us, doesn't it?"
"It does," he said, nodding. "It does."
I smiled, curling my foot a little to gently poke at the inside of his right thigh. "You look good laughing, too."
He gave a small smile. "Stop doing that."
"No," I said, poking him again. "Make me."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You make me want to go back home and explore all the ways I can make you stop."
"But you can't," I said, enjoying teasing him, especially because of the nice view of his laugh. "Or I will go hungry all night, and you have yourself to blame."
He laughed, nodding. "Fine. Let's feed the little emotional gangster in my front seat."
I poked him a little harder, and he broke into a laugh, his head thrown back lightly.
"You make me sound like some cartoon character."
"Sorry I mistook you for one."
I poked him again, my brows furrowed at him. "I hate you."
"No, you don't. You never did."
I leaned back, my eyes thin. "How do you know that?"
"I am not oblivious, sweetie. You are not the kind of woman I can pick up at a bar. You sleeping with me was a commitment you made, that your mind and your heart and your body agreed to, and you wouldn't do that with someone you hate."
I rolled my eyes. "I might just be a slut undercover. You make me sound like some goddess."
He went silent for a long minute before he slowly turned to me, his eyes completely serious, depth in his orbs.
"That is exactly how I see you," he said slowly, his voice deep and husky, yet low like an instrumental from a master. "You mentioned how along the line, something might have happened to me. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, but the darker my intuitions got, the farther away you became. The last thing I saw for you was a man like Damien."
I swallowed, a lump rising in my throat. "What did you see for me first?"
He shrugged lightly. "Those sunflowers you always drew. A fiels of them. Those roses I sometimes brought home that you alway got a little excited about despite how many times I told you they weren't yours... I saw you with a man who wouldn't be afraid to just admit that they were really yours."
I broke into a smile, but tears filled my eyes, and the lump in my throat got bigger. "I knew they were mine. You kept forgetting them close to me and never asked. And you never had a girlfriend too."
He chuckled lightly as we turned into an illuminated establishment. It appeared to be a twenty four hour pastry shop, and I sighed a little.
"They made you happy, didn't they?"
I turned to Florian again. "I am happy even right now."
He gave a small nod. "Remember that rose bikini? The one you wanted to wear to the beach, but everyone told you you looked fat in?"
I broke into a laugh as the car slowly came to a stop. "I hate all of you."
"Do you?" He asked, raising a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Positive. I wanted to wear that bikini so badly."
He smiled, then slowly turned to me, his hand running up and down my leg. "Do you wanna wear it for me, then?"
"I don't even know where it is."
"I do," he said in a small whisper. "And it would make me happy if you packed it... and came to Macau with me."
My eyes widened, my chest slowly heaving. "You... want me to come to Macau with you?"
"I won't force you, but I want you to. I want to see you in that bikini, without thinking of some other dude who will not just be staring at you, but be able to hold you too."
"Matt was just a friend."
"I don't care. I am the man you are wearing that bikini for."
I raised a brow. "So you stayed silent because you were jealous?"
"I am not jealous, Roxanne. I am territorial. And I am sorry for staying quiet. That's probably a red flag."
I slowly bit down on my lips. He reached his hand to me, and I slowly gave him my hand, my eyes looking up to meet his.
He leaned to place a warm kiss on the back of my hand. Before I could do anything, he turned my hand and kissed my palm, sending warm, wet, dirty images through my mind.
"f**k Matt," he whispered under his breath and I broke into a laugh.
Red flag? Yes, maybe. Am I colour blind? Yes. Yes, I am.
- Writer
