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I’m basically vibrating as my eyes swept the room, taking in every tiny detail of my boyfriend's flat. Thorn’s really letting me into his private life and it's so fucking special I can't stay still.
Well, of course, we’re dating, so it was bound to happen, but it’s so much better than I dreamt. It always is with Thorn. And it’s getting easier as we learn to trust each other, less running away, less avoiding difficult emotions. Sometimes it’s an effort to remember that Thorn’s love language is straight up staring in silent concentration.
Every time I’m with Thorn, he ends up showing me something new about himself. And inviting me to his flat is like he’s sharing one of his biggest secrets with me. I couldn’t have predicted this blooming garden, and I’m pretty sure part of me would have called bullshit if he’d told me about the plants before I arrived.
It totally explains why he doesn’t like doing overseas jobs, as well.
I stand in the middle of his living room, trying to absorb it all. He has a guitar fixed on the wall by the kitchen door, a wind chime hanging in a doorway that leads to what I guess is his bedroom. Modelling magazines on his coffee table, and I’m about to inspect a photo of two men beside the TV on my right when I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye.
My head snaps left and my gaze lands on the glass tank next to the sofa, half-hidden by another pot plant.
Something moves in the shadow of one of those full on hanging plants, and there's no way I'm not going to snoop.
I throw another look at the kitchen door before I carefully creep over. There’s a bright yellow eye staring at me from behind the glass, blinking slowly, just watching me, fucking judging me.
The tank is such a dark green it’s almost black. I'm peering in, trying to figure out what's in there. Until there’s a click, and I jump as a light switches on above me.
“What the hell?” I whisper as the entire tank lights up to reveal a tortoise or a turtle or something with a shell chewing on a piece of lettuce. It doesn’t even bother with me, and just keeps on chomping away as I lean in to inspect it more closely.
Rude.
If I ever thought Thorn would have a pet, it would be one of these guys. Slow, chill, happy to get on with its own business, absolutely no fuss.
“That’s Josephine,” Thorn says quietly from behind me. I quickly whip around, my heart shuddering again at the thick glasses and cute apron I’m dying to pull off of him or slip under.
“What?” I ask.
“My tortoise,” he says before he twists his lips, stepping closer. “I…” His lips perk up as he looks at the tank and then back at me. I’m next to him right away, taking his hand again, telling him it's all okay. It’s so fucking hard not to rub myself up on him when he’s trying to say something important.
“What is it?” I ask with a smile, waiting for him to answer. It drove me insane when we first started dating that I need to be patient with him, but it's always so, so worth it.
“I’m sorry I didn't tell you.” He bites his lip, holding my gaze.
I swallow my laugh. I don't want him to think I’m making fun of him again. I hope he realises now that every time I laugh it’s because I love him so fucking much that I don’t know how else to show him apart from laughing or leaping on him. And I haven’t even properly told him how I feel. People write hundreds of songs, poems and books about how difficult it is to say ‘I love you’, but I never believed them until now.
“Why are you sorry? It’s totally fine.” I honestly enjoy it so much more when he shows me these things naturally. Like, last month, I was bitching about my sister and, after an hour of self-absorbed ranting, he finally told me a little bit about his mum. But he choked up so hard I had to stop him and we spent the whole night cuddling, which was fucking bliss.
“Well, I wasn’t sure if you wanted…” he sighs slowly and rubs the back of his neck as his chin dips to the floor.
“Wanted what?” I encourage him on with another squeeze of his hand.
“A pet,” he says so quietly I nearly miss it.
Fucking hell, the hits just keep coming and coming.
I hold on to him, trying not to clench too tightly as my heart fucking implodes. I keep my breaths low, blinking away the stupid tears threatening at the corners of my eyes Thorn always triggers when he says romantic shit. And he’s staring at me expectantly, not realising how much it means for him to say something like that.
I've never been with someone who wants to give so much of themselves to me.
We’re both just looking at each other, and I've totally blanked. I’m about to straight up tell him how much I fucking adore him, but I pussy out.
I've said it before, loads of times, to loads of different people. I've been with guys who've told me they loved me even before we hooked up. But Thorn is so fucking special and I can’t even deal with the thought he might run if I push my feelings onto him. It’s fucking terrifying thinking about what might change if I say it and he gets alarmed, even though I've already convinced myself we’ll be fine. It just might get a bit awkward for a while.
When he says anything like that, I swear he feels the same, that he loves me too. It’s that sliver of doubt, that tiny piece of me that hovers on the ‘what if?’. Because what if he doesn’t actually love me as much as I love him? What if he doesn't feel as strongly as I do?
I rub my thumb over his, grinning up at him. “Thorn, baby, do you know how much that turns me on? I've wanted a pet for fucking years.”
He gets that gorgeous startled baby bird look, blinking so quickly I'm sure he’s going to burst. “Really?” he says on a rushed breath, his eyes shining, one hand pressing lightly to his stomach as his shoulders relax.
