Page 140 of Wallflower

That last part is like an arrow to the gut, but I choose not to over analyze it. We’ve both clearly been through some shit. I’ll offer what I can, and hopefully he will slowly start to do the same, bit by bit. “Let’s just get through this, then we can go for ice cream?” I offer, and he nods, shifting the jeep back into drive and inching out onto the driveway. “Peanut butter swirl is your favourite, right?”

That same look begins to shadow his features again, and pieces start to click into place. It’s the fact that I know him that’s upsetting him. Is it because no one’s cared enough to try? Or does he deem these things about himself inconsequential? No matter the reason, my chest burns with anger and hurt for him.

Ripley nods again, slowly. “What’s mine?” I ask, trying to show him this is normal. People who care about each other remember things, big monumental events all the way down to the tiniest of details. Size doesn't matter when someone is your counterpart. In fact, it’s not even a burden to store away all the information, if only to use it one day to make them smile. “Bet you can’t remember,” I tease.

“Chocolate brownie crunch,” he replies.

I open my mouth to add on to the end of his sentence, but he cuts me off.

“In a bowl, not a cone. Because, and I quote, ‘No one likes a soggy cone’.”

“Good boy,” I murmur, unclasping my seatbelt and leaning over the centre console.

Ripley’s eyes dilate as he pulls into a parking stall between Kyle’s black and gold dirt bike and Bucky’s grape soda coloured El Camino. Apparently, it’s his pride and joy, sparkling in the raging sun.

“Watch that mouth, flower, or I’ll give you something to lick that isn’t ice cream.” He leans closer, lips lightly grazing over mine. “Though I’d pay to watch you swirl that filthy tongue around a cone in nothing but those boots I bought you.”

“Mmmm,” I hum appreciatively, “promise?”

“Absofuckinglutely,” he breathes, before eliminating the rest of the distance between us.

Ripley’s lips move confidently against mine, soft and hungry. This is where he’s most comfortable. I noticed it before, when things started to get heavy conversation wise, he’d bail. Shifting his focus from talking to my body, and burying himself inside it. Aside from Kyle and Bucky, I don’t think Ripley’s had anyone to lean on or show him genuine affection. And, fuck knows how crap men are at communication. Even if they’re there for each other, how deep does their well of knowledge go? Do they know his past, his fears, his traumas? What about his strengths, his goals, and his love of the ocean?

Knock. Knock.

Bucky’s knuckles rap against the Jeep door, putting an end to our heated kiss.

“Hold me back before I kill him.”

I pull away. “That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t like being interrupted.”

“In general…or just with me?” I tease.

“You’re the only one who can interrupt without inciting my wrath.”

“Your wrath? Whatwrath? You claim to be so monstrous and scary, but I don’t believe it.”

“Haven’t you thoroughly witnessed how vengeful I can be, flower?”

“Well, yeah, but…”That wasn’t just revenge, that was protection.

“Just because it’s not directed at you, doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Fine. I’ll let you have that one,” I grumble as I open the door and step out.

“Give or take an hour my ass, Rip.”

He shrugs, looking to me over his shoulder as I round the ’92 Jeep Sahara. “We got held up.”

A blush creeps up my neck. We sure did, and it’s because I ate myself into a food coma. It hurt to walk back to Ripley’s place, and I dragged my ass, whining every step just to get back at him for letting me order theBig island Breakfastin the first place. Then the shower was so lovely, I took my sweet fucking time.

“My fault,” I offer, moving to stand next to Rip. Bucky wouldn’t complain where I’m concerned, not in front of Ripley, anyway. “He took me to Maple Jacks.”

Bucky gives me a puzzled look before swinging his gaze back to his boss. “I’ve found some troubling footage you need to see.”

“Lead the way,” Ripley replies, snatching up my hand and threading our fingers together. Shantel clocks the public display of affection as she stands at the door like a guard dog, an ugly snarl marring her face. I plaster on my biggest smile, dismissing her entire existence as we pass by her without so much as an acknowledgement from any of us.