Pink Petals
Chris Sturniolo x Reader
See pinned post for (series) masterlist and (oneshots) masterlist and more.
Summary: Chris had a past with a few girls who had left him burned. Y/n had succumbed to the utter tragedy of giving up on her high school sweetheart a while ago. Chris walks into Y/n’s flower shop, searching for a bouquet of flowers for a girl. A blind date takes the lovelorn pair into fate’s hands. Chris isn’t holding back his true colors anymore. He’s a true romantic. Handwritten letters, cheesy compliments…and maybe some flowers.
Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.
A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.
With love and big tit*, Rose.
PART ONE: f*cking Madison Beer & Man-tit*
The old bitch in front of me was less than happy. Fragrance of blooming florals did little to calm my teeth from clenching into the side of my cheek. I didn’t mind working. I had my dream job, my own flower shop just as I had imagined as a kid. Except, in my daydreams, this rude ass lady didn’t exist.
“Ma’am, we are closing early. I do not have the specific flower you are searching for either. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but there is nothing I can do to help you with only fifteen minutes.” I say.
The lady scoffs, shaking her head as she whips around and walks out the door. As the bell rings from the door movement, I let out a sigh of relief.
It wasn’t often that rude customers came in, but it did happen occasionally. For the most part, it was the neighborhood crowd surrounding that stopped in. The majority of houses were owned by an older group of people.
This part of LA didn’t look like the rest. My shop fit into the tiny array of buildings that aligned the edge of the neighborhood. It was perfect. The glass windows of my shop outlooked the border between the houses and the sand.
I had made a habit of walking along the shoreline of the beach before work. It was peaceful. It wasn’t a beach for a lot of swimming, the public didn’t swarm in the dozens to crowd the area. Elderly couples or photographers typically visited. Occasionally, public personas also roamed into the peaceful space.
Including Madison Beer.
Social media wasn’t relevant to me other than the occasional post to boost my business. However, it’s Madison f*cking Beer.
A random Tuesday a couple months ago, the woman walks in. My brain stutters as I urge myself to act normal. I go over and greet her. As soon as a simple ‘can I help you find anything’ question spilled from my mouth, I nearly fainted at her reaction.
Tears.
I made Madison Beer cry.
Not cry–sob.
It was funny now. We laughed about it to this day. After a brief awkward encounter, she had confessed she was trying to get over a really messy breakup. All her friendships had dissipated, taking the side of her ex. She was trying to buy herself flowers, hoping it’d cheer her up.
Although, her attitude shifted when realizing the horror written on my face.
Guilt erupted from her aura as she ramabled words my frozen mind couldn’t process. Thankfully, I had closed the shop, helping her make her own custom bouquet. During the process, the oversharing didn’t stop, but neither of us cared. A friendship only written in movies was formed that day.
Fortunately, Madison was able to heal from her previous relationship. In fact, I had set her up with a guy that came in every couple of months, Austin. His mother, Rebecca, lived in the neighborhood. She was sweet and her kindness definitely was apparent in her son. Austin had been nice to me, occasionally making conversation. I instantly connected the two people together as I got to know Madison more. I was right so far–they were a perfect match.
It was a blind date.
I mean–how the f*ck do you tell someone you’re setting them up with Madison Beer?
Happily together for nearly three months, the couple made me promise to let them set me up on at least one blind date. Stupidly, I agreed.
I didn’t think it’d actually happen. Madison knew I didn’t really date. I had grown out of my phase of making out with a different guy at every party though. That was a rough one. My mind didn’t let me date. Some boy had to screw that up for me in high school.
I was over him. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that I had his words engraved in my head. My mind came up with explanations for his behavior, everything inducing beliefs that made it hard to even attempt to open up to another person romantically.
But, the time had come.
Madison had apparently found my match. She nearly slapped me when I tried to make an excuse. She made it very clear that there was no bailing.
Deciding to deter her from violence, I was closing the shop early. Only ten minutes left until I could flip the sign on the door. The date was at five, but I was closing at 4 to freshen up beforehand. The condo I rented was only a five minute walk down the street, giving me enough time to get ready, but hopefully not enough to overthink too much.
Well, probably not.
I was overthinking all day already.
There really was no avoiding that aspect.
I start piling up the receipts from today’s transactions on the front desk. The bell rings, signaling my attention as I look up to see an unfamiliar man.
A really attractive unfamiliar man.
I swallow thickly, jumbling the receipts into a piled mess and shoving them beneath the counter. I wipe my hands off on my jeans, taking a deep breath as preparation.
“Hi, just a heads up we’re closing at four today, but what can I help you with?” I voice.
I mentally praise myself for the steadiness in my tone. My nerves die down, watching him anxiously scratch the back of his neck.
“I–uh, I just need to get flowers?” he says.
I bite the flesh on the inside of my cheek with endearment, fighting back a smile as he shifts his feet with uncertainty.
“Well, what kind of flowers? Are they a gift?” I say.
He nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, they–um, for a girl?”
Why couldn’t he say they were for his mom or something?
God, the more I tried retracting my gaze anywhere but his face, the more my eyes stayed entranced by his stature.
He was very attractive–hot. But, somehow, the man was also adorably cute. The type of man you imagined reading books, soft yet breathtaking enough to make someone drool.
He has to be a model.
God, I need to chill. I urge myself to roll my lips together. He has a girl, I remind myself.
Although I had gone through an unhinged phase, I was very against cheating. Any sort. Didn’t matter who I played, cheater or the other girl. I wasn’t gonna participate.
My lips curl into the smile as I watch his cheeks blush into a rosy hue. “Okay, you’re looking for flowers for your girlfriend, what does she like?” I ask.
I start walking past him toward the open window lined with premade bouquets. Walking past him, the musky scent of his cologne reaches my nose.
He smells good too?
Damn, his girlfriend is lucky.
I gesture down to the flowers lining the window in the displays, noticing his eyes widening. “I don’t really know what she likes…” he trails off. The hesitancy in his voice makes my mind wander with clueless direction as I glance around the premade bouquets.
“Well,” I fiddle with the velvet petals as I glance over the premade bouquets. “--flowers and colors have all different sorts of meanings. What are you trying to tell your girlfriend with these flowers?” I ask, as my eyes move back to his face, I see him shyly scratching the back of his neck as he shoves his other hand into the pocket of his baggy jeans.
“Um…” his eyes glance around the shop. With a defeated sigh, his shoulders shrug down. “I honestly don’t know. I…what’s your favorite?” he asks.
I chuckle lightly at his question. I brush past him, moving to the center display of the store. I point down to the pink-petaled bouquet, simple and pretty. “I personally love pink, it’s simple, innocent…it doesn’t come off too strong like red roses either, but it’s up to you.” I point out.
The alarm on my phone starts going off in my back pocket. I pull it out, silencing the alarm before shoving it back into the back of my jeans, sliding the device into the denim pocket.
The guy lets out a light laugh, “I think the pink ones you pointed out are pretty….but what if she doesn’t like them…” he says, mumbling out the last part barely above a whisper.
I grab the bouquet, shoving it into his chest gently as he cages the brown paper around the stems with his hands. “There’s not many ways to mess up flowers. If anything–she’ll appreciate the effort more than the actual flowers.” I say.
He nods his head and looks down at the flowers with a relieved look. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Could I get these? Or are you closed? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
I cut him off, holding up my hands before starting to walk towards the front desk. “No, not at all. I’ll get you checked out. Cash or card?” I ask.
Shuffling through the options of the store computer, I pulled up his total. He holds up a credit card as I push the card reader further towards him. “Thank you. I would’ve been overthinking this all day, you have no idea.” he states.
As I reach back over to pull the card reader back, our hands brush slightly. I nearly jumped at the heat radiating off of his hands. Our eyes meet, his eyes wide with shock as I fight back a burning flush. “I–” I stutter, flinching at the wavering tone of my voice and squinting my eyes closed.
“Uh–sorry, I,” he pulls his hand back, cradling the bouquet in his hands as he slides his wallet back into his front pocket. “I, I’ll let you close up. Sorry for keeping you. Thank you for helping me out!” he exclaims cheerfully.
My heart clenches in my chest as he turns around. I hold myself back, admiring his bright smile as his arms swing by his sides, one of his hands adorned with the wrapped bouquet.
He slightly turns his body, waving as he settles a hand on the door. I give him a gentle wave, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as he exists. The ring of the door signals as I slowly step around the front counter. I follow his path toward the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign to say ‘closed’ with a heavy sigh.
I walk past the displays, fiddling my fingers onto the light switch embedded in the white walls. I flicker off the lights with the switch, hearing a car door shut. Before I can stop myself, I look out the window. My eyes immediately met his through his car window. His lips curl into a smile, his hand waving towards me as I look towards the ground sheepishly.
Why do the cute ones always have a girlfriend?
__
Nerves flooded my system as I anticipated the knock at my door any moment. I smoothed down my hands on my baggy jeans.
How bad could this possibly go?
Sure, Madison assured me that this man was nice. I trusted Madison. I really did. My anxiety didn’t. My anxious mind was screaming at me, telling me she only thinks he’s nice because he doesn’t want anything from her. Old beliefs resurfacing, ruining the present moment with the past.
I had been preparing for the worst.
It’s one date.
It’s only one date.
I had been on a handful of first dates. However, I had never really been on a second one. My high school sweetheart, Zach, just didn’t do those types of things. But, I would never settle for that again. I wouldn’t settle for anything, that’s why the first date was typically where things came to a stop before they could really begin.
It was why a second date was so foreign to me. The handful of first dates I had been on…weren’t great.
Some had been awful. Some had just been boring enough to nearly kill me.
However, I had never gone on a blind date. Madison knew my type, sure. She knew I didn’t find many people attractive. Looks were a factor, but it was mostly attitude. I couldn’t be with a guy too co*cky or too shy.
The guy who had walked into the shop was a near perfect example. Excluding the fact that he has a girlfriend. Bitterness coated my tongue as I purse my lips and smoothed over some tinted lip gloss with the compact mirror in my hand.
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I quickly close the tube of lip product, snapping the compact mirror shut and shoving both items in my small bag. My heart hammers in my chest as I hesitantly walk over to the door.
I take a deep breath as I feel the cold metal on my palm. I shake out some of the rushing anxiety in my shoulders, turning the knob. My eyes fall at level with the doorknob, a hint of pink petals catching my attention.
As I swing open the door completely, I let out a surprised huff followed by a soft laugh. My stomach knots with excitement seeing familiar pink florals clasped in brown paper. The smile clouds over my face as I look up to meet his eyes. “Oh f*ck.” he mutters laughing. He holds out the flowers for me to grab. “--I hope the thought still counts.” he adds.
The familiar wording recollects the distant memory of our conversation in my mind. He didn’t say he had a girlfriend, he said he was getting them for a girl.
I nod, licking over my teeth as my smile widens. “Awww. You got my favorite! I’m Y/n, by the way. I’m assuming you’re Chris?” He nods at my question. “Hold on, let me put these away. Lucky for you, I have millions of vases already available and ready for use.” I acknowledge.
Our laughs echo in a chorus as I leave the door open. I shift my feet sideways, sliding over to the table lined up against the wall. I quickly unsnap the rubber holder around the stems and place them in a vase. The vase is nearly empty, only remnants of baby's breath from my last bouquet I had brought home for myself. I lay the brown paper next to the vase, making a mental note to take care of it later as I shift the individual florals in the vase, giving them appropriate placement to support the heavier flowers.
I dust off the grime from my hands, grabbing my keys from the bowl on the table next to the vase. My eyes wander to the velvety petals, smiling at the beauty and effort he had gifted me.
I let my feet wander back to the door, seeing his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. “Hey, at least it was a good ice breaker,” he mentions. His fluffy hair is perfectly messy, accommodating a perfect contrast to his pale skin and sky-blue eyes.
Sucking in a harsh breath, I avert my eyes from his features in fear of lingering too long. My eyes nearly defy me, urging me to take in more of his face. I resist, letting my eyes fall to the keychain in my hand as I step through the threshold of the door, tugging the knob along behind me.
I shake my head with disbelief, letting out a soft laugh. “It really was. I…I’ve never gotten flowers on a first date, thank you.” I say. I hear the click of the door shutting behind me as I feel the knob hit my back gently. I turn around, my eyes going wide as I remind myself this is reality. I twist the key in the hole, locking the door and shoving the keychain into my small purse.
Madison, I really owe you one.
“Really? That’s all Madison told me about you. Your name, your age, and that you love flowers. She refused to tell me anything else. I’m, uh, really hoping you like mini golf though.” he mentions with a light chuckle.
I walk behind him as he guides us to a black car. He opens the passenger door, swinging it open and gesturing for me to sit. I smile gratefully, placing my purse in my lap as the door softly closes.
My eyes follow his figure as he walks around the front of the car. He got me flowers. He opened my door. He’s hot, he’s cute…so what’s wrong with him?
I shake off the anxiety protruding into my thoughts, willing the past beliefs to linger further in the back of my mind as I bring myself back to the present moment. The car door thuds shut, the closeness as he sits down allowing me to feel the heat radiating off of him as I let my elbow rest on the edge of the center console.
I wonder what it would feel like to touch him.
“Too hot? Too cold?” he asks, hovering his fingers over the air conditioning controls.
I shake my head lightly, holding back a smile at the thoughtfulness of his actions. “Nope,” I start, fiddling my hands as he starts driving down the street. I recognize the houses we begin passing by as soft music starts to play in the background.
“You know,” I start, glancing over to see his blue eyes trained on the road. “--I’ve actually never been mini golfing.” I admit.
His eyes dart to me, nearly bulging out of his head as he holds a shocked expression. “What? You’re kidding me, right?” he asks.
I shake my head, watching as he starts shaking his head with disbelief and turning his attention back to the road. “Well, I hope it won’t disappoint you.” he says.
My elbow nudges further onto the center console. I shift my weight, allowing my shoulder to nudge into his briefly. “I don’t think you’ll disappoint me. I mean, you’re already doing great so far.” I remark.
I sink back comfortably in my seat. I watch as his eyes shift toward me in my peripheral visions, whipping my head to the window. I see a brief reflection of his grinning eyes matching his curled lips as we pass under a bridge.
“Oh yeah?” he teases.
The subtle taunt in his words marks a movement of adrenaline in my veins, burning through my body with pure excitement as I bring my attention back out the front window. I struggle to keep my cheeks relaxed as I feel his eyes glancing over at me every so often.
I hear him shift in his seat. My arm resting on the center console is greeted by the warmth of his arm bushing against mine as my breath catches in my throat.
f*ck.
I had anticipated every possible bad scenario.
Not a thought had been spared to this going well.
“I’m just teasing, sorry.” he mutters.
I bite my tongue, letting out a laugh as I turn my attention to him. “It’s okay. I’ll just tease you about buying me flowers from my own shop.” I remark.
My shoulders tremble with giggles as I hear him groan dramatically. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” I let out.
The car comes to a gentle stop as I look up at him from my seat. His eyes are already trained on me, a grin spread across his face that makes my eyes widen before falling to my lap as heat travels up my neck.
I’ve never had someone look at me like that.
His gaze felt like drowning in an ocean of rose petals.
The drum in my chest calms as I hear him clear his throat, cutting the tension that seemed to have clouded the air thickly.
“So, um,” the soft look on his face drags my eyes towards his gentle words. “How do you know Madison?” he asks.
He turns the blinker on, pulling into a parking lot. “I, uh, she came into my shop. I greeted her, she started balling her eyes out, and the rest is history. We’ve been friends for a little over a year now. What about you?” I say.
“Well, I don’t know how much Madison told you about me, but I do YouTube. Apparently, she had been watching our videos and wanted to come on our channel. We kinda just clicked–it’s only been a couple of months though.” he explains.
My mind wraps around the spill of information, extracting the details of his statement. I had met a lot of famous people. Mostly those who came down to the beach near my shop for photoshoots. Most were fine, some were not. I didn’t judge them. Their career was theirs. Mine was mine.
“Our?” I ponder out loud.
Chris nods in my peripheral vision. As he puts the car into park, he looks over at me, leaning further into the center console. My skin grows warm at the lack of distance. His irises catch my glance, trapping me trained on his eyes. “Yeah, I’m a triplet. I have a channel with my brothers. Well, two of them.” he adds.
I nod my head in acknowledgement, peering up towards his perfectly messy hair as he runs a hand through the brown array.
His hair looks soft.
My hands claw at the denim material covering my thighs, holding back from reaching out. It was no secret that physical touch was my second nature. Madison thought it was funny. People had thought we were a lesbian couple because we had been holding hands in a grocery story for a late night snack run.
It was f*cking funny.
Austin thought it was hysterical. He loved to joke about it, especially saying, ‘you think she could get Madison Beer? Yeah, right.’
He was never serious. He was never actually intimidated. Madison loved him for it, so much. Austin was a secure man who loved her whole-heartedly. What more could she ask for?
A pair of tit* is the answer I had provided when we had bickered about the question.
Then, Austin flexed his man-tit*.
Then, I almost threw up.
Even though they were a couple, they had quickly become my best friends with no awkward tension between it being the three of us at times. I never felt left out, I felt appreciated.
“How many other siblings do you have?” I ask curiously.
Chris shrugs, pulling his keys into his palm with a smooth swing. “Just an older brother. Well–and a dog according to my mom. What about you though? Any siblings?” he asks.
I nod. My hand gravitates towards the seat belt attachment as I hear his click undone. Pulling my own off, I smooth down my hands over my jeans. The bitter coldness ripped at my fingers, a typical occurrence that I always had to endure on a daily basis. Despite the warm breeze and beaming sun, LA still had no strength compared to my poor circulation. My hands and feet were almost always cold.
“Yeah, I have a sister, Taylor. She’s a bit older though, and she lives in Colorado with her wife so I don’t see her very often.” I announce.
I look over, seeing Chris nodding in acknowledgment to my statement. “Ready to go in?” he suggests.
With a nod, I guide my hand towards the car door handle. “Wait,” I hear. I look back in Chris’s direction, seeing him already out of the car and jogging around the front to my side. I giggle, biting the inside of my cheek as I realize what he’s doing.
As the passenger door opens, Chris holds out a hand for me. I slide mine in his, hearing a gasp leave his mouth. “Holy f*ck, how are you so cold?” he remarks.
I nearly crumble while embracing the warmth of his hand against mine. Standing up next to him, I shrug. “My hands are always cold, sorry.” I remark, embarrassment caught in my throat as I strain the words through pursed lips.
“No, no,” Chris quickly says. “--it’s fine, I don’t mind. I just thought I had made the car too cold or something.” he mentions.
I shake my head from left to right bluntly. “No, I promise. I mean, here,” I guide his hand to my slightly exposed stomach. His skin delicately brush against mine makes my heart stammer with a drum in my chest. The slight knead of his finger catches me off guard. My eyes flicker upward, meeting his intense stare as I feel myself holding my breath.
The large huff of air stuck in my stomach makes my chest burn, urging for relief.
I can’t just sigh out and say I forgot to f*cking breathe?
His plundering irises follow my face as I look to the side. I bring my hand upward, dropping his as I gesture to the building.
“Is this it?” I question.
I silently whisper a token of gratitude in my head for the avoided awkward situation. Swinging my arms back down by my sides, my fingers fiddle with the belt loops of my jeans. My eyes look back at his hand by his own side, missing the feeling of his skin against mine.
f*ck. f*ck. f*ck.
“Yeah, follow me.” he directs.
I follow his footsteps, side by side as our hands brush against each other swiftly.
f*ck. f*cking. f*ck. f*ck.
It not only was going good–it was going to uncharted territory.
Intimidating uncharted fields in foreign land.
I didn’t just want him in bed, making me feel good. I longed for his touch in a more intimate way than just sex. I wanted to know more about him, more about his personal life.
And that…that was scarier than any horror movie I had ever witnessed.
“I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you yet, but I think you’re incredibly pretty.” Chris voices.
My lips purse happily as a flush crosses my face. “Thank you,” I mutter. “--I, um, to be honest…I was only asking who the flowers were early to see if you had a girlfriend. I thought you were really attractive.” I admit.
Chris cranes his neck, his eyes peering into mine for a split second before he reaches out and holds open the door to the building. “Really? I was too nervous to correct you, honestly.” he confesses.
I brush my hand along his chest whilst walking into the structure. My eyes train over his reaction, watching his eyes squint with a grin. As I avert my gaze forward, a front desk comes into view.
_
Time had passed too quickly. The beautiful day was starting to fade into a sunset. Mini golfing had been easier than I expected, well, pretty easy to practice based on watching other people around us too.
The conversation had yet to stop. It started with talking about our siblings. Chris was even more attached to his siblings than I was with Taylor, which I had yet to find a person who valued their sibling nearly as much as me. But, it was clear how much he relied on his brothers, especially Matt and Nick.
It was endearing.
Listening to him talk about the people he cared about brought a smile to my face. It made it easier to open up about my own circle of loved ones. Well, not the brutal details. He knew about my grandma who raised me like a mother, Donna. He listened with intent as I explained growing up and nurturing her backyard garden for her as her energy depleted with age.
One sentence in particular had warmed something untouched inside of me.
‘I hope I get to meet her someday.’
A glimpse of an illusion had drifted into my thoughts.
Maybe, he could someday.
“You covered his room in Liam Neson?” I screech.
My hand covering my mouth does little to mute the noise. I almost expect him to shush me as I shrink into my body with embarrassment. The stares of surrounding people makes my stomach curl with anxiety
“YES! YES WE DID!” Chris exclaims.
The volume of his voice exceeds mine. The stares quickly turn into people turning back to mind their own business, a relieving sigh escaping my lips.
Chris leans his weight sideways and downwards, his hair tickling against the side of my forehead. I glance up at him, his blue eyes barely visible through the smiling squint. “Don’t worry, you never gotta be embarrassed with me. Plus,” our foreheads brush together briefly as he stands up tall again. “--I get excited and too loud all the time. We’re a perfect match.” he points out.
A perfect match.
I make a mental note to never doubt Madison again.
She’s gonna love to hear about this.
Not as much as I'd love to tell her about it though.
The thought makes my ears flush red with excitement. “Madison was right, I owe her one.” I mention.
Chris nods his head as he walks in front of me, guiding us to the last course of the mini golf building. My heart sinks with disappointment as he hits the ball.
I don’t want this to end.
The golf ball lands centimeters away from the hole. I walk up, taking my turn. The ball darts out, following a similar path to Chris’s before landing nearly an inch next to it.
Chris walks up to his ball, aligning his club before glancing back up at me. “We should make a bet since we lost track of the score,” he suggests.
I laugh, nodding along to his offer. “I’m okay with that. How do you think we should do that? What are we betting on?” I pester.
Chris leans on the golf club, his body slanted as he shifts his weight. His free hand rubs at his chin, a sly grin replacing his expression. “Well,” he drops his hand back down to his side, “--if I win, I want to take you somewhere else after this.” he says.
I nod, licking over my teeth with excited eyes analyzing him. He wants more time–with me. “Deal. You first.” Chris nods affirmatively, swinging the club back and positioning it in front of the golf ball. The clink of the club hitting the ball echoes as I watch the small object tumble towards the end hole, stopping just short by a couple of inches.
Chris scoffs, turning around and holding his hands up in defense. My eyes wander to his arms, the veins apparent as he stretches his limbs co*ckily. “Good luck beating that, sweetheart.” he says.
My cheeks clench with a heat at the subtle name. The joking tone in his voice not playing much weight to the warm flutter of nerves bundling in my gut. My feet moved swiftly through the air that drifted down with tension. I line up my club, swinging the ball and watching it dart through the obstacle with more precision than intended.
As the ball starts to slow down, it stops nearly just a centimeter before Chris’s. “You know,” Chris starts, walking forward and lining up to hit his ball. “--you never said what you wanted if you won.” he points out.
I shrug, tilting my head to the side and flashing him a taunting smile. “Just hit the ball and if I win, you’ll find out, pretty boy.” I tease.
His eyebrows sway upwards on his face, a look of astonishment giving me a sense of pride. He adjusts his position, swinging his club and making contact with the golf ball. The soft nudge sends the ball directly to the rim of the hole, swirling around before sinking into it.
“I’m happy I won, but I’m still curious what you wanted if you won.” he says.
I stay planted in place as Chris walks over. He grabs my golf club in one hand, clutching it next to his own. His free arm slings over my shoulders, tugging me against his side as I let myself sway into his steps. My skin burns, urging me to pull him closer.
“Maybe if things continue going like this, you might find out.” I express.
I reach up, intertwinning my hand in his that rests on my shoulder. My cold hands embrace his warmth greedily. I feel his thumb start to caress over the back of my palm, a sudden movement that makes my eyes soften with curiosity.
I look over, seeing his eyes trained on me already. My teeth clench into the side of my cheek as I will myself to maintain eye contact.
"Yeah?" he says breathlessly.
The subtle word catches me off guard, dissipating any faux confidence I had to keep my eyes on his. Heat rushes up in tingles from my spine, crawling all the way towards my ears as I avert my gaze to the path in front of us.
"Shut up." I whisper out. His chuckle lightly vibrates against my ear as he rests his lips inches away from my head.
"Anything for you, sweetheart." he replies.
The glint of fake sympathy sends waves of excitement through my bones, my pulse nearly echoing in my ears as my heart pummels in my chest.
My eyes quickly glance towards his, darting back in front of us as his blue irises deter my attention back to the pulsating clamber in my chest.
His arm squeezes tighter around me as he places the clubs in the bin as we pass by the front desk. I nearly forget to breath as his fingers dance hesitantly along my exposed collarbone delicately.
"Ready?"
The question leaving his lips leads my mind into a fumble of anticipation as I nod my head eagerly.
I don't want this to end.
A/N: Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the first chapter of my new series! A couple things I need to mention though. One, I've never played mini golf and IDK how it works. Don't roast me if I didn't explain it right lmao. Secondly, this series will be HEAVILY different from Comfort Zone, so please don't expect the same thing from me over and over. Lastly, I'm debating creating a a whole mood board from pinterest and adding it to my profile so you guys can more clearly imagine what I picture for this series universe. This would include outfits, Y/n's flowers shop, and more. Let me know if this is something that you guys would be interested in!! Anyhow, thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts in the comments or in my inbox!! LOVE YA!
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