I had always loved Valentine's Day. Even when I was single, I wasn't one of those bitter or cynical people. I loved the way that there was this entire day dedicated to showing your love and affection to someone, an excuse to shower them in gifts or even confess bottled up feelings. Plus, y'know, there was always really great TV.
This was my first Valentines Day actually spent with a Valentine, though.
I'd met Apollo on my nineteenth birthday. I'd been out for drinks at some hazy club in the city after my best friend, Philippa, had scored us all some fake I.D.s. I wasn't much of a party-goer, but it'd been worth it to find Apollo. I think my parents had been convinced I'd never find my soul mate at what was considered quite a mature age, and I had to admit I'd lost some hope for a while there, but I guess that was silly. As the daughter of a wolf and his mate, that meant I was destined for true love, too: Apollo. Apollo, who'd put his arms around my waist, whispered that I was beautiful and taken me to a quiet balcony outside where we sat and talked for a good three hours. I'd barely done any drinking.
Now it was sixth months later, and I was waking up in our bed in our apartment. Well, it'd been his initially, but I'd soon transformed it. That was pretty clear to everyone when they walked in and saw all the potpourri and flowers and vases and all that good stuff. I'd even managed to score the big walk-in closet when I'd told Apollo I'd have to just keep all my clothes in boxes in the garage if I had to use a wardrobe. (He, rather posessively, kept his car and motorbike in there. I had to park my Jeep on the driveway because, apparently, "Nobody would ever steal that crappy beast.")
"Morning, babe," he yawned next to me, stretching out one arm as his free hand went under the covers and rather obviously fixed his crotch. We'd fallen asleep entangled as usual, so it wasn't a surprise he woke up that way.
"Morning," I replied with a grin. He looked at me, confused at my excitement; he was always kind of dopey in the mornings. So, just to mess with his head, I squealed very loudly, "It's Valentine's Day!"
He groaned at the noise and gradually morphed the sound into one of unconvincing enthusiasm. "Yay...!"
I huffed and rolled my eyes. "You're so grumpy," I accused, shoving him.
"Yeah, but you love me that way," he said with a wink and pulled me by the waist so that I practically lay on top of him. I could feel his hardness from under the covers and felt myself get a little excited, too. He pecked me on the lips playfully. "I love you."
"I know," I said, smug.
"Hey!"
"Okay, fine, I love you, too. But only if you give me my present."
"You wouldn't love me if I didn't get you a present?"
I couldn't help but smile at our teasing, and held up my forefinger and thumb so they had about an inch or so between them. "Maybe a little bit."
"Well, I love you more than the span of the earth, with or without presents," he announced, proud, flickering his glance away from me as he wasn't completely comfortable with expressing himself in ways that were not in the simplest of terms. Suffice to say, he loathed poetry.
I grinned hugely up at him, chin tilted downwards, which seemed to soften him as he brushed his hand against my cheek and used his free hand to reach under the bed. I felt anticipation well up within me.
"I may have gone a little overboard," he added, somehow sheepish about that, before producing-
"Oh, my, God!" I half-yelled, eyes bugged.
It was a Marc Jacobs watch, gold, and though I couldn't remember the name of it, I knew it was the one I had wanted. I'd told him about it, gosh, months ago. "I love you so much." I bounced slightly on the bed for emphasis.
"I know," he mocked.
"Can you help me put it on?"
As he assisted me in securing the watch around my slender, tanned wrist, I listened to him talk at the same time as admiring the diamonds framing the clockface. So pretty.
"This isn't it, y'know," he told me. "You'll discover the surprises throughout the morning."
My heart seemed to swell in that moment, as though my love for him was impossibly growing, filling out each and every corner of my heart. With each surprise present, I nearly cried with happiness. Firstly I discovered a new dress in my closet: it was entirely covered in green sparkles and glittered with every tiny movement when I tried it on, the sleeves long but the hem scandalously short (certainly something Apollo had picked out.) Then I found the matching shoes, and after that, when I went down into the kitchen to make us breakfast, there was a massive bouqet of fifty large, red roses sitting on the dining table (I did actually cry at this.) Then came the massive jars of candy, my favourites like strawbs and rhubard and custards, and finally a pair of open-ended tickets to Colorado, back where my family lived.
"This is, like, the best thing anyone will ever do for me," I said with a sniffle a while later, about twelve-ish. We'd just made love and I now sat up on his lap, tickets in my hands. "Apollo, I can't believe you did this! This is amazing! So romantic, babe."
He smiled gently and wiped away the babay tears leaking from my eyes. "I just have one request, Cora."
"Anything."
"You can't give me my present until tomorrow..." I went to protest, but he pressed one of his fingers to my lips "... evening."
"But why?"
"Today's about you, doll," he said, hooking his arm around my neck so he could pull me closer for a kiss. I rested my hands on his smooth, broad chest and my mind would've been totally in the gutter had I not been nearly crying again. Was it possible for someone to be so sweet? "Now go and get dressed, we've got a flight to Colorado to catch."
"What?"
After having to come to terms with his vague, non-commital answers about why we had to go to Colorado today, I reluctantly did as I was told. Since flying wasn't the most comfortable of travel means, I dressed in a pair of leggings and a small t-shirt that ended a couple inches under my bust. My taught midriff was completely on show, my tight rear and small waist accentuated perfectly. Apollo rolled his eyes and swore when he saw what I was wearing, but couldn't resist pulling me to him for a long, passionate kiss that left me a little dizzy.
I was somehow always left simulataneously frustrated and satisfied. Annoyed and besotted. But I think that was just how love was meant to be.
When we'd packed our suitcases for the long weekend I now knew we'd be going for, and then lugged them downstairs (I insisted carrying mine myself,) I high-fived Apollo like the dork I was. "Can we do that chest-bumpy thing?" I asked him, smiling cutely.
I already knew he'd go, "No," before he did so warningly.
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why, though?"
"I'd hurt you. Now get in the car and shush."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Please."
