Between the Perennial Blooms || Paul Lahote

Forty One | Sweet Pea

"I remember you. You were made of light."
—Maria Eugenia Calderara | Poems of Exile; "I Still Don't Know Your Name"

• • •

"Hey baby."

Jumping at the unexpected voice, Bailey turned over her shoulder only to grin widely. There stood Paul — handsome as ever and shirtless like always — leaning against the wood frame of her doorway with his big arms crossed over his chest and that handsome lopsided smirk that never failed to make her go weak in the knees spread across his lips. She had known he was coming. After all, he'd texted her he was on his way just ten minutes before. Nevertheless, only five had passed since then, and as apparent by his sudden presence, he was too eager to show up any later than early.

"Hi," Bailey breathed.

It only took three long strides for Paul to come to a standstill directly in front of her. "Need some help with that?" He murmured, inclining his head toward the zipper of her dress she'd been fiddling with for the past some-odd minutes. She looked beautiful, Paul thought, taking in the light fabric that flowed so loosely down the contours of her body despite her wild unkempt hair and wide frustrated eyes. Absolutely beautiful.

"Please," Bailey requested, blushing at the heat in his gaze as well as the embarrassment she felt for having gotten the zipper stuck. For the past hour she'd been trying on outfit after outfit and dress after dress in the hopes of finding something she deemed suitable for Bella's graduation ceremony set to take place the following Saturday and, so far, she'd had no such luck. Everything she owned she thought was either too casual or too dressy, her skirts too short and her dresses just the same. She had been forbidden from wearing jeans — as was customary of Alice and her fashion sense — and though her only personal stipulation entailed finding something long enough to cover the horror that had become her left thigh, nothing seemed to work. It had frustrated her, nearly to the point of tears, and just as the zipper getting caught threatened to push her over the edge, Paul's arrival had pulled her back just as quickly.

"C'mere," he soothed.

And his warm hands on the bare skin of her back was all the consolation she needed.

"Gimme a spin now." Paul besought her, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of her bed and staring over at her with adoring eyes.

Though she wasn't exactly a fan of the olive summer dress she currently had on, Bailey sighed and twirled for him anyway. The hem flared up above her mid-thighs when she did and, once again, Bailey sighed to herself for what felt like the millionth time in the past hour. "Don't like it," she finished with a pout, stopping to face Paul and unleashing the full force of her puppy-dog eyes however unintentional the action may've been. "My scars poke out from the bottom of it and I don't want everyone to see."

"Baby..." Paul sighed. He frowned and reached out for her, but when she evaded his hands to instead stare at the bottom of her thigh in the reflection of the mirror, his frown deepened. "Nobody's gonna be looking at your leg," he tried to reassure her, worry bubbling up in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her forlorn expression worn so plain for anyone to see. "And if they do, well, I'm sure my fist flying toward their face will be able to distract them easily enough."

"I thought you weren't coming," Bailey mumbled, cracking a small smile but otherwise not acknowledging his attempt to cheer her up.

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," Paul huffed, taking it upon himself to stand from the bed, walk toward her, and bat her fumbling hands out of the way to unzip the dress himself. Originally, upon her initial inquiry about attending the ceremony in support of her sister, Paul had answered with a blunt no. 'Why would I bother showing up when you and I both know I'd just be pretending to give a shit about someone I could really care fuck-all about?' But now, seeing her struggle to find something to cover up her insecurities under the pretense of simply being unable to pick something to wear, Paul decided he could suck it up for a day — or a few hours at the very least. "I'm coming," he finalized, leaning down to press a hard kiss to the underside of her ear. "Not for her, but for you."