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NOELLE
"Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see," he gives me a charming smile, taking my hand in his as he resumes his attention to the road.
I'd expected him to be weirder today after what happened last night, but it's been the opposite. From the moment I'd woken up he'd been extra attentive, bringing me breakfast in bed and brushing off any attempt at talking about the events of the other night.
Still, I can't help but worry about him, and I wish he'd confide in me what he's feeling.
But I won't force him.
I recognize he must be having a hard time, so I'll let him slowly open up to me, being there for him at every step.
We end up somewhere in Brooklyn, in what seems to be an industrial area.
Raf parks the car, and taking my hand, he leads be towards a row of warehouses.
"When I moved back home from college I stored all my stuff in here," he mentions as the security checks his ID before letting us pass to the back where the storage units are.
Raf already has a key, and locating his unit, he unlocks it, opening the door wide for me to go inside.
There are quite a few boxes stuffed to the rim, as well as a few suitcases. Everything is neatly packed, and each box has a tag on it with its contents.
"Even back then you were so organized," I smile.
He shrugs slightly, but his cheeks redden as he clears his throat.
"Here," he calls me over as he pulls one of the boxes, opening it to reveal books, books and more books.
"What is it?" I laugh as he starts taking them out one by one, a look of pure concentration on his face.
"I have something for you," he mumbles, continuing to sift through the books.
Moving to his side, I plop myself on the floor.
"Don't," I startle when I hear his voice, blinking in confusion. "The floor is cold. Don't sit there," he clarifies, and before I can reply, he has one of his suitcases open, taking out a sweater and motioning for me to sit on it. "There, better," he muses to himself in satisfaction before he goes back to his box.
A bewildered expression gives way to one of pure pleasure as I realize he takes care of me even unconsciously. It's second nature to him, and I bask in that feeling of adoration.
"Finally," he exhales in relief, whipping out a big hardcover book from the bottom of the box. Even in the dim light of the storage unit I can spot the play of color—the fact that the edges have been painted with gold.
Almost bashfully, Raf comes to sit by my side as I make some room for him on the sweater.
"What's this?" I inquire as he hands the book to me.
The cardboard cover is sturdy, the materials used to bind it clearly expensive. Yet there's no title on the front.
It's only when I open it to the first page that I spot it, and its significance.
The Plumed Serpent, 1920 Edition.
"You…" I can't even form the words as my eyes instinctively fill with tears at the sight of this precious gift.
It's an absolutely exquisite collector's edition—a rare one, too, going by the year, condition and level of detail afforded to gilded pages.
"I got this for you. Well, for curiouscat," he smiles shamelessly at me. "And now it's finally with its rightful owner."
"You got this for me when you didn't know who I was. When we were just friends," I look up to find him staring at me intently.
