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“That you could rest a canvas on my ass like its an easel.” Giggles thoughtlessly flood the early evening air. “All that hot yoga is really paying off even if it’s more sporadic than I like.”

“I will be testing that theory tomorrow,” my date for the night impishly chortles. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I…I really like the lacy back. It’s…fun…and flirty…and wasn’t the pain in the ass I was expecting it to be to tie.”

All of a sudden, the tiniest tap underneath my chin is given. “Open your eyes, June Bug.”

Prying them open reveals to me his, which are twinkling.

Actually.

Fucking.

Twinkling.

How is that even possible outside of Mangas?!

“Sounds like you’re pretty confident and comfortable to me.”

His arrogance is tempting to stomp away – after all these stupid shoes are made for it – yet I do the thing that only he seems capable of doing.

I lean into it.

Into him.

This.

Us.

“Fine,” the sigh that is released is hot and heavy, “I’ll wear the dress.”

Tucker offers me a toothy grin as he backs up to guide me to the vehicle. “You’ll be glad you did when we get to our dinner destination.”

“Which is where exactly?”

No verbal answer is given.

Simply one more round of kisses to my knuckles and polite assistance into the passenger seat.

Our drive from the secluded lake house to the outskirts of Highland is quite a pleasant one. We discuss art – because when are we not – however the conversation is music centered. He tells me about his favorite artists both mainstream and less so. Styles he would’ve never guessed he’d be into. He pulls some of it up for me to get a vibe from and what’s most surprising is his excitement over my excitement of discovering new sounds.

Never in a million years did I think someone else could or would ever find pleasure in what makes me happy.

Honestly sounds like some parallel comic book shit.

What I imagine is a journey in which we took the scenic route – considering how many older and charming neighborhoods we drive through – our eventual arrival is to that of a small strip center with a ridiculously packed parking lot.

He quickly parks in the first spot he can find and during his transition to help me out of the vehicle, I do my best to survey the scene. Figure out exactly where we’re going and what I feel like is going to include some sort of activity.

Once out of the vehicle, we head to the right where loud, live music seems to be blaring prompting me to rapidly shake my head. “Ohhhh…nononono.” My body attempts to slow itself down. “No.No.No.No.No.No. Tuck!” Pulling my hand out of his is an easy task. “I don’t dance!”

“June-”

“I can’t dance!”

“June-”

“I don’t wanna dance!”

“We’re going for Cuban food,” he calmly reassures as he regains his hold of my hand, “a type that I know is on your food bucket list-”

“I knew I should’ve never shared that with you.”

“And to see a very special piece of artwork.” The small glimmer in his eyes almost missed. “Dancing is optional.” We begin to move towards the entrance again prompting him to add, “Although, it’s an option I hope we take because dancing is an art. And you know how much I love different types of art.”

“It’s performance art.”

“Still art, June Bug.” Playfulness pops into his expression. “Still love it.”

Inside Abuela’s Kitchen, Tucker doesn’t bother waiting for a hostess to seat us or even offer us a place to sit. He guides us around the bustling atmosphere straight for the back patio where a jaw dropping surprise is waiting for me.

“Happy birthday, June!” my three sisters as well as Jaye and Archer collectively exclaim.

“OhmyMonaLisa!” I squeak, hands instantly flying over my mouth.

Tucker’s lips sweetly brush up against my ear. “You can also cross surprise birthday party off your list.”

Ohhhh…

Ohhhhhh…

Ohhhh….I don’t even know what to say to that!

Or how to thank him for this!

For even thinking about doing something like this!

Fuck me, I am literally speechless and instead of risking messing up whatever it is I could possibly say, I should probably just stay silent.

Silent and smile.

Tucker plants a gentle kiss on my cheek that robs me of my original plan by forcing me to whisper out, “You’re perfect.”

“You mean this is perfect?”

“No.” He’s shot a small wink and adoring grin prior to me returning to those gathered here to see me. “Ohmy…I can’t believe you’re all here!”

Jaye is first on her feet and scooting her multi color sequin dressed covered frame over to me. “Happy birthday!” We embrace in a tight squeeze that’s followed by leaning back to gush, “You look so so good!” The tiniest wince is wedged between sentences. “Not that you don’t always look good because you do! Even hot and sweaty with goat hair on you still look like a bombshell. I’m just saying you look more bombshelly now. You…um..”

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