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ZANDER
I stand awestruck in Marr’s bedroom, which is straight out of some glossy interior decor magazine and a complete one-eighty from the bohemian living room.
It screams color, light, life. Everything from the pink pillows, baby blue curtains, and the zillion string lights is swanky and chic. I take in the room, perusing the several knick-knacks.
“What do you think?” She shifts on her feet, nervously looking around like she’s trying to see her place through my eyes.
“It’s beautiful. But I honestly didn’t expect your room to be this…gossamer. I expected superhero posters, but not this.” I glance toward her bed, which thankfully is queen-size, and notice a handful of photographs hanging from the string lights.
“I know, but…it’s my safe and happy place.” She smiles, fixing her glasses and making light of a serious thought.
I place my finger under her chin, and her hesitant blue eyes land on me. “What’s the real reason, couch girl?”
Her eyes close briefly before she takes a deep, cleansing breath. “Sometimes, I just…wish I could…rewind time. Live those…lost years of my life.”
Her wistful words force me to imagine Marr as a young girl, alone, trying to find herself. I pull her closer to my racing heart. “Thank you. And I’m not only talking about the room.” I want to tell her how much this whole evening means to me.
She blushes a beautiful shade of pink, which I’ve seen plenty of times in the past. But today, somehow it looks different. More mine.
I place a kiss on her forehead and plant my butt on the corner of her bed. “Is there something else I should know, apart from your obsession of glittery, pink things?”
“One more thing.” Raising her index finger, she dashes to her dresser and returns with a wooden box. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m just making you aware of all my quirks.”
I bite back my smile at her words. She is certainly the quirkiest person I know. Starting from those flannel shirts all the way up to her precise breakfast. I’m curious to know what else I should add to that list.
With a wide smile, she opens the latch, and a shock of panic zips through my heart. The box contains different accessories like bracelets, earrings, and other girly stuff. But the distinct feature in each of them is a rose. I clutch the bedsheets, attempting to think of anything other than the darkness.
Unbeknownst to my feelings, Marr picks a silver bracelet and swiftly ties it around her wrist. “This one is my favorite.”
I can’t look at anything other than the metallic rose. I stare at it and wait for the dreadful cold to engulf me and take away all my happiness.
“I’m sorry, Zander.”
She stares at me with big apologetic eyes before quickly untying the terrifying bracelet, placing it back into the box and sitting beside me. She closes the dreadful box with a loud thud, trying to shut away my monsters. But they’re already out.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…” After taking a deep breath as if mustering some courage, she asks, “We have different memories with the flower, right?”
I’m dumbfounded how this girl, who everyone thinks doesn’t understand emotions well, is not only perceptive about my fears—which, by the way, I thought I hid well—but is also careful enough to replace the dreadful word with flower.
I nod in response.
“Will you share it with me?” I hate the hesitant lilt in her tone.
When I pull her back into my arms, she rests her head on my chest. I’m surprised how my anxiety subsides at her simple touch.
“Of course, but not today. I want this day to be a happy memory for both of us.”
Completely satisfied by my answer, she walks to her dresser with the box and returns with a Polaroid. “Then let’s capture it.”
She gingerly sits on my lap, and I completely pull her down, urging her to rest her head over my wild, rabid heart.
When the photo ejects with a whirl, she shyly hands it to me.
In the picture, I’m looking at her as she concentrates on holding the camera right. My attention is fixed on the shy smile on her face. I look like a guy who can’t keep my eyes off her for a minute.
Someone unconditionally in love with her.
“I hope we can make more memories like this.” Her voice sounds dreamy as she clips the picture on the row of string lights above her bed.
