Talia:

"Are we still going?"

My sister's head pokes through my door, which she took the liberty of opening without my permission. A knock or two wouldn't kill her.

I set down my favorite note-taking pen on my textbook and swivel in my chair towards her. Jessica wiggles her eyebrows in an absurd way that makes me question if I should laugh or be annoyed. I decide on neither, focusing to keep my expression neutral. I've been getting better at keeping a blank face, as learned from my lovely boyfriend. Grayson's cold stares are beginning to spread to me from spending so much time with him. Of course, the glares are never targeted at me; but when he gives them to someone else, I feel the need to repeat the look at them as well.

In the week since that fateful evening at the hotel, Grayson and I haven't participated in any scandalous activities. Shame, I know. Like the smart person I am, I went out and bought condoms just in case we ran into the same situation. I had to guess based on the bulge I saw in his pants for what size to get; therefore, I grabbed to two largest sizes.

We have looked at each other differently, too. There's absolutely no returning to normal after you moan someone's name because their mouth was on your...well, you know. Now, Grayson looks at me as if he has all of the knowledge in the world. A few times I've caught him straight up smirking at me—probably replaying the events in his head—so I have smacked his arm. It wasn't as affective at I though it would be, because he would just pull my body to him and wrap his arms around me tightly. No complaints there; but still, would it hurt him to be a little less obvious?

"Talia?!" Jessica screeches from the door. Her eyes are wide and she waves her hand around to catch my attention that strayed to something different than her question.

"Yeah," I say. "We're still going dress shopping. Let me finish this chapter first."

I'm about to turn back to the textbook when she releases a loud huffing sound. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.

"What?" I ask innocently.

Jess points to where my school work is and raises a questioning eyebrow. "How long have you been studying?"

"Oh, only three hours," I lie. It's actually more like six hours. Once she picks up on my lie—which is very easy to do—she'll rat me out. Specifically rat me out to Grayson, who has limited my allowable study time to five hours a day. His reason was, quote: "You do way too fucking much and it makes you stressed. You know more than you think you do. I just want to make sure you're okay and taking care of yourself."

He's more adorable than he lets on.

"Don't lie to me, Lia," she states. Her eyebrows pull together in menacing way. Since when did she get so scary?

I frown and grumble out, "I've been studying for six hours."

Jessica's phone is already at her ear by the time I finish telling the truth. It's no secret who she's calling. Surprisingly, this is not the first time my sister has called Grayson to inform him I went over my study limit. He actually put her on special instructions to do so, something she agreed to very quickly. They're more concerned about me than I originally thought.

"No, stop," I whine, trying to do everything to prevent her from calling. "You're going to bother him."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not bothering him if you're the subject—Oh, hey, Grayson."

"What?" I here mumbled from the other end of the call. Typical grump.

"Your girlfriend here has been studying for six hours and...yeah, I'll put her on." She looks at me with an evil smile and holds out her phone. "It's for you."

Why are my hands getting so clammy? I'm only talking to my boyfriend about something he didn't want me doing, no big deal. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

"Hi," I say in probably the most guilty voice ever.

"Close your textbook and notebook, daisy," he demands in the nicest way possible through the phone. His voice sounds all rough and out of breath, I note. My first guess is that he's working out. My second is something that makes me laugh out loud at the possibility. The possibility equals zero, by the way.

I stare at my studying set-up where I have a textbook open with my notebook, which he correctly guessed I had out. "How did you know—"

"Because I know you," he interrupts. "Once you hit the three hour mark of studying, you always take notes that you've taken at least two times before. You're smart; I bet you know everything by now."

"You're right, I'm sorry." I close my textbook, even though is pains me to do so. My mindset has always been, just a few more chapters and I'm sure I'll get an A. I guess I obsess over school more than needed, something that Grayson is trying very hard to get me to learn.

"Don't apologize." I imagine him shaking his head on the other end, his face probably scrunched together. While we're on the subject of what is going on where he is, I additionally hear a consistent banging noise. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to bring you some food?"

I smile. Grayson is the biggest mama bear I know. "No, Jessica and I are about to go shop for prom dresses."

Prom is officially less than ten days away. For once in my life, I have been a terrible planner and neglected to buy a dress. Jessica, being the procrastinator she is, has also forgotten, leaving us both in the same boat.

"Hmm, okay. I'll be working at the diner later if you change your mind about the food."

"I'll keep that in mind. Also, what's that banging noise in the background? And why are you all out of breath?"

"I'm at the basketball court with Rowan and Jake, and my dad is torturing us with drills."

A loud "I am not!" Sounds from the phone, which I imagine came from Grayson's dad.

I suppress a laugh. "That sounds like fun, Grayson," I monotone.

"Yeah, I'm having the time of my life," he replies, as equally sarcastic as my last statement. There's then a pause where I hear chatting in the background. Grayson releases a sigh. "Okay, okay, dad, I got it," he says before returning the conversation back to me. "My dad wants me to tell you he says hi and that you should come by for dinner soon. My mom misses you, too."

"Tell him I say hi right back," I say smiling, thinking about how sweet Grayson's whole family is. "I can come over Sunday night for dinner."

"All right, I'll let my mom know. She'll probably spend the next two days cooking everything in sight. So anyways, maybe I'll see you tonight?"

Oh, he will definitely be seeing me. I would never pass up a free milkshake. I just nod, but then remember he can't see me so I speak. "Maybe you will, maybe you won't," I tease.

Grayson's husky laugh tickles my ear from the speaker, causing me to blush like a weirdo. "I'll just hope for the maybe I will part. Bye, daisy."

"Bye, boyfriend."

I hang up the call and return back to reality, only to remember I was using Jessica's phone this whole time and she remained by the door. Her arms are still crossed, but now she's giving me a funny expression.

"What?" I ask.

She blows out a breath of air and pretends to look around my bedroom. "Oh, nothing. You two are totally not weird, or anything."

Something tells me she thinks Grayson and I are weird. I don't know, it's just the vibe I'm getting. I stand up from my desk and return her phone. "Mhm. I'll be down in ten minutes to go shopping."

"Fine, my dear sister," she calls out as she skips out of the room.

She's the real weirdo.

***

"Come on," Jessica groans from outside the dressing room. "Show me the dress already."

Half an hour into our search for the perfect prom dresses, Jess had already found her gown. The strapless, deep purple dress with a mermaid fitting now hangs in a safe plastic bag beside her. I move around in the first dress I decided to try on, a pale pink gown with small sequin details that are scattered across the bodice. The skirt hangs off of my hip in a simple shape, and when I shift around, it flares out slightly.

Exiting the dressing room, I meet Jessica where she sits on one of the waiting chairs. Her eyes perk up at the sight of me and I give her a quick twirl, showing off the different angles of the dress.

My sister tilts her head. "The shape is nice and I like the sequins..."

"But?" I finish for her, anticipating her criticism.

"—But it's not the right color."

I frown and look into the large mirror along the wall. I like the pink. Is it too girly? Does it not flatter my skin color? I run a hand along the bottom fabric, lifting the skirt and few inches, and then letting it drop. "What color should I try, then?"

Jessica releases a fit of coughs and slips in the word green.

My frown deepens. I tried to get that color last year, but a certain someone told me I would look like a tree. No girl likes being compared to a tree. The fact still remains that I love the color. Always have, always will. It complements my eyes and my light-brown hair well, and I usually feel the most confident when wearing it. But what would Grayson think of the color on me? On us, really, considering the tie on the man is meant to match the color on the woman. I don't like taking risks, I decide.

"I think I should stick to a different color. You know, like, pink, black, or—"

Jessica's phone is shoved in my hand for the second time today, this time opened up to a text thread. I look up at her, confusion spread over my face. "What's this?"

"Just read it."

I look at the messages and who they were sent from: "My Dear Sister's Boy-toy." Oh. "Why don't you just have his contact down as Grayson?"

I feel like I'm not in the place to ask that kind of question considering I have my boyfriend down as "Mama Bear Grayson," but who cares. One day, he saw it on my phone and raised a questioning eyebrow. I simply stated that he was the biggest mama bear I know, which he shook his head at in disagreement, and then proceeded to ask me if I was hungry. I laughed about it for a good five minutes. Men are clueless.

I asked him what he had my contact down as, but he shook his head and refused to answer. When Grayson left to use the bathroom, I texted him to see my name pop up on his phone: "My Daisy," followed by the matching flower emoji. He knew exactly what I was up to when he returned and pulled me into an almost suffocating hug, muttering how I was too smart for him.

My sister groans and dramatically falls back into the chair, flailing her arms around. "Fucking Hell, you ask so many questions."

"Sorry," I mutter with a short laugh before actually reading the messages, instead of questioning unimportant items.

The time stamp on the text from Grayson is from today:

"Can you help Talia pick a dress with one of these colors? I know she might be hesitant to pick green from what happened last year, but I know she will be the most beautiful in it."

Three images are attached below the text, and my heart has already warmed by the time I find them. One is an emerald green color, another a dark green, and the final is...I do a double take when the I realize the color is the exact same as my eyes—a sort of sage and light green mixture. By now, my heart is burning with delight.

"There's more," Jessica says.

I scroll down to one final blurb of text.

"If you see her pick up a red dress, you need to fucking rip it out of her hands. If she decides she really doesn't want green, then tell her dark blue also looks perfect on her. I just want her to be happy."

When I give Jessica her phone back, I feel ready to cry. The stinging in the back of my eyes is a clear enough warning. Jess must notice the way my bottom lip wobbles slightly, so she rubs a comforting hand along my shoulder.

"Hey, I didn't show you that to make you cry," she says in a soothing voice.

The tears clog along my eye's waterline as I say, "I know. Sometimes it just hits me in the face from how much he cares for me. It makes me feel like I can't breathe. It makes me wonder if I'm giving enough back to him."

"You are, Lia. Trust me," my sister reassures. "I bet he feels like he doesn't do enough for you, too. You two are so deep in love, all you can think about is providing for one another."

I inhale a deep breath, trying to capture any volume of air to stop me from crying in the middle of the dress store as I admit something to myself—

I love him.

I've never loved someone romantically before. Not even Carter.

It feels nice. Like there's an extra beat in my heart that's reserved just for him. A beat that would make me feel empty if it somehow disappeared. I would still be able to live if it were gone, but it would forever feel like a piece of me was missing. My better half. The person in the world that makes me complete. All of that corny, romantic stuff.

Now I'm smiling. And blushing. And shaking my head in wonder of how I managed to get to this point. With him.

"I think I would like to try on some green dresses," I state, twirling back to the dressing room to remove the pink gown I originally tried on.

Jessica laughs from behind me and calls out, "I'll go find some, my dear sister. We'll find a dress that will make Grayson absolutely feral."

***

By the time Jessica drops me off at the diner, it's eight PM. It took me one whole hour to find the dress of my dreams. The dress, as my sister put it, will cause Grayson go into anaphylactic shock. A bit extreme, but I could see how she would arrive at that conclusion.

It's stunning. Well worth the price. The color of the fabric matches my eyes exactly, and the draping highlights my body down to every curve. Along the dress are 1920s style designs made by clear beads, which are a little heavy, but I'll manage. I love it. It makes me feel like I've traveled back in time and stole a piece of artwork.

"Text me if you need me to pick you up," Jess shouts, leaning out the window as I near the entrance. "I'll be with Quinn."

"I'll get a ride from Grayson. Have fun with Quinn," I respond, a small wave following.

"Wait!" She suddenly shouts. Jess points a finger at me and wiggles it around. "I forgot to ask before, but has he even asked you to prom yet?"

Hmmm.

Wait a damn minute. Grayson has not even bothered to ask me out to prom. I want a cute sign with a corny pun on it. I want him to say something silly that will have me laughing. I want a fucking prom-posal.

My sister reads the changing expression on my face and shakes her head. "He better not assume he's allowed to take you! If he doesn't ask, I swear to God! Do you need me to have a serious talk with him? I'll get dad involved, if I must."

She's very passionate about this.

"I'll just hope he's planning something," I say. And I'm sure he is. Well, I'm assuming he is based on the fact he hasn't let me down—yet. "I'll leave it alone for now. Goodnight, sister."

"Bye, loser."

Then, Jessica speeds off like a madman, and pray to anyone who will listen for her not to wreck the car we share.

Once I step inside the diner, I am a woman on a mission. Any uneasy feeling I had about him asking me to prom I throw out off my mental window. I decided on the ride over how I would repay Grayson for pushing me to pick the only right dress color for prom. And, no, it is not saying I love him. I just figured it out for myself what the feeling was, and getting myself to admit it to Grayson would be too large of a leap. It's all about baby steps.

Grayson is behind the counter, wiping down the surface with a rag when he notices me. It's kind of difficult not to notice me as I practically speed-walk right at him. The concerned look on his face is almost comical, and I nearly crack a smile from my mask of neutrality. That was my plan. To walk full-steam-ahead at Grayson, no smile, and then pull him to me.

I slide a hand up his tense shoulders and to his stiff neck, which I then hold the back of, and kiss the living daylights out of his lips. The shock takes a second to wear off, but once it does, the kiss turns magical. It's so full of lust I see speckles of stars behind my eyelids. I naturally lean into him—not a care in the world about who might be witnessing this. One of his hands attaches to my waist and the other cups the side of my face. Our lips push against the other in a frenzy to taste whatever the other one is serving. Grayson tastes like mint. I swipe my tongue across his, just so I can have another sample. His hand travels down my waist, right until it brushes against the curve of my—

Slurrrrrrrp!

We shoot away from each other and my head whips to the barstool counter where the sound came from. My cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

"Wow, dinner and a show. I must be lucky tonight," Jake says, both him and Rowan hunched over their milkshakes, staring at us with the widest eyes I have ever seen. I didn't even notice them sitting there.

Grayson scoffs and rolls his eyes, his hand sliding off my hip and back to his side. Hesitantly, might I add. He decides on ignoring their presence and repositions himself behind the counter, continuing his task of wiping the surface. He speaks without looking up. "Did you find a dress?"

"Yeah, I did," I confirm. I lock my hands together behind my back and hide an evil smile. "It's the most lovely shade of red."

My protective boyfriend's head snaps up immediately, tension forming along his shoulders. The anger that radiates off of him is intense and nearly knocks me off my feet. That was probably too mean of me.

I give a sweet smile to soften his anger. "I'm kidding, Grayson. I was given advice by a certain someone to get the color green."

"You're fucking cruel," he murmurs and his body relaxes. He tilts his head and steps closer to me, now near enough for me to attack him with an apology hug. "I'm guessing Jess told you my opinion on what color to get?"

"She did." I nod my head and my expression turns appreciative. Wrapping my arms around his waist in a tight embrace—which, is currently one sided—, I stare upwards and lock my eyes with his. "The dress is the same color as my eyes, if you were wondering."

His hand touches my back and rubs it gently, all while his lopsided grin forms. "Yeah?" He asks, some unknown emotion bubbling in his voice.

"Yeah," I confirm, displaying my brightest smile. "And, just so you know, I look amazing in the dress. I'm talking complete arm candy material."

A full smile and a deep laugh vibrates from Grayson's chest. "I have no doubt."

A dramatic sigh sounds from the barstool, reminding us that we're not alone. Jake and Rowan relax their heads on their hands and stare at our embrace. The former is the one to speak first:

"You two make me want to shove a fork into a power outlet."

Oh.

I didn't realize we were that insufferable to be around. Too bad for Jake, because all I want to do is hold Grayson and take care of him. Hugging and kissing are a part of that package deal.

Rowan pats Jake's back and then squeezes his shoulders. "You'll be all right, Jake. Someone will find your annoying-ass tolerable enough to date you."

"No!" He groans, hiding his face with his hands. "I will not be all right. I'm going to die single. All of you have someone. Graysie-boy has Lia. Rowan has Katie. Where's my someone?"

The other three of us exchange looks that question Jake's sanity.

Someone's phone dings with a text message. Jake picks up his phone and releases a short laugh, nodding. He looks up at us and smiles, which is completely opposite of the emotion he was conveying before. "Ah, just kidding. I got a text back."

I cover my mouth as laughs spill out. Grayson and Rowan roll their eyes, and the former leans over to look at the text on Jake's phone. He lifts an eyebrow, but then shakes of whatever question he had. The person he's messaging will remain a mystery.

Grayson rubs his thumb along my waist and I glance up at him. "Do you want pancakes, daisy?"

At the word pancakes, Jake and Rowan's heads perk up and then turn to me.

"Oh, yeah," Jake says. He stares at me, enthusiastically nodding. "Mmm, pancakes, yep. Lia, don't pancakes sound really good right now?"

I reluctantly nod my head, suddenly feeling as if I'm being pulled into a trap.

Rowan coughs into his hand, squeezing in the word subtle between coughs.

The diner begins to feel much colder, and I quickly look at the source: Grayson's glare at Jake. It's intense.

My eyes widen and I decide to shake off whatever weirdness I just experienced among the three men. I look at my boyfriend and nod my head. "Yeah, pancakes sound nice. Thanks."

Grayson nods and then moves into the back where the kitchen is to fetch me some food. I slide up onto the stool next to Jake.

Jake exhales a huge breath of relief for whatever reason. He turns to Rowan and whispers, "That was a close one. Do you think she noticed?"

"You're the worst fucking whisperer I have ever met," Rowan grumbles. He gestures to me. "You know what? I think Lia noticed you being a dumbass, Jake."

Jake displays a frown and hunches his shoulders. "Your words hurt my feelings. As if I'm not going through enough already."

"You're dramatic," Rowan says, pushing Jake's buttons. The two continue a very random argument consisting of the struggles Jake faces every day.

I've said this before and I'll said it again—how does Grayson deal with them? My ears are bleeding and I've only been listening to them for five minutes while Grayson grabs me pancakes. It's exhausting.

I'm snapped out of my daydreams when he returns with a plate and cup in hand. I muffle my squeal as I realize Grayson made me a pistachio milkshake without even asking. He knows me too well. Jake and Rowan halt their arguing and turn, watching Grayson place the pancakes in front of me and artfully arranging the drink next to it. I narrow my eyes at his two friends, both of whom appear giddy. I'm beginning to believe they smoked before they came here.

"Why are you two...," I begin to ask Jake and Rowan. I cut myself off.

The pancakes in front of me are far from basic pancakes. No—they have something special written out on them with chocolate chips and each round is spread out to reveal a letter along the plate. No wonder Jake seemed so insistent on me having pancakes. It's so special that it makes my heart skip a beat.

P...R...O...M...?

My mouth falls open and my eyes shoot up to look at Grayson, who apparently has an interesting skill of arranging chocolate chips on pancakes. He rests his hands on the edge of the counter and leans closer to me, awaiting my answer. It's not the most important thing to note, but his arm muscles are in full view and I want to reach squeeze them. Like, really badly. I suppose I should answer his question, however.

"Yes," I reply, a smile overwhelming my face. "I guess I'll go to prom with you."

He laughs and raises an eyebrow. "You guess?"

"I guess," I say with a shrug. A laugh escapes my lips a second later, unable to manage my mask of indifference.

Grayson moves over to me from behind and wraps his arms around me. Tightly, as if he's punishing me for teasing him. Fine by me. It just gives me a chance to feel up his hard muscles. He kisses the top of my head while I smile down at the pancakes, feeling content that he finally asked me to prom.

Click!

My head snaps up to Jake. At that moment he decided it would be a perfect time to take a photo of our embrace. Rowan slaps the back of Jake's head.

Grayson's arms tense around my body and he slides them away, leaving his hands on my waist. I pathetically groan at the slight loss of contact. He rubs his thumbs along my skin to make up for it. Better.

"Send that to me, then delete it," Grayson demands in a threatening voice.

Jake shivers. "God, you're scary. Lia, how do you even deal with him?"

I shrug and glance up at Grayson, finding that he's already looking at me with a small smile. "He's not scary to me."

And I love him. I don't even know if it's possible to love someone and find them scary.

My boyfriend presses a quick kiss to the spot under my ear. He then whispers, "I can't wait to see you in that dress. And then I can't wait to help you take it off."

In record time, my cheeks flush red as he steps away from me. This man is too smug for his own good. He gives me a wink and a smirk just to prove my point further. Clearly, Grayson has some plans for me after prom. Plans that make me all flustered thinking about them.

Well, it's a good thing I bought condoms. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's being prepared. And I'm totally prepared for Grayson's plans to take my dress off at the end of the night. Maybe that's when I'll tell him that I love him. My heart lurches at the though.

I look up at him as he continues working and smile.

When the time comes, all I can hope for is for him to say it back.

——————————————————————

Was that a good prom-posal? Graysie-boy knows Lia loves pancakes, so I think he did a good job. Next up...prom! And for a reason you will soon find out, the two lovers will finally finish the art project when Grayson takes Lia to his favorite spot...

Also—here's the dress I imagine Lia wearing. The first image is the color and the second is the dress:

Qotd: what is your favorite flavor of Goldfish?