Sugar

55

chapter fifty five
florence thompson
song: you were good to me - jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler

That night we had dried up from dancing in the rain. We had been soaked from head to toe when we entered the lake house again, quite obviously.

Since then we had laid down in one of the beds in the many rooms in the house, we were now laying face to face on our sides as we watched one another quietly. I memorized the contours of his face, like I wouldn't ever see them again.

My heart ached in my chest as I looked at him across from me. So close yet so far.

We hadn't spoke of my declaration, but I wasn't upset about it. I knew he didn't love me back, and I was okay with that.

"You're beautiful, Florence Thompson. I hope you know that," he whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts as he brought up his hand and ran the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.

I smiled softly at him.

"I'm trying to learn how to love myself," I whispered back. "It's a battle, but I think so far I'm winning." I smiled softly at him, my eyes darting around his own.

"You deserve to win that battle over and over again," he mumbled, bringing his hand up to run it over my blonde hair.

We fell back into a comfortable silence for a few moments as we continued to stare at one another. The feeling of his hand on my skin as he dragged the tips of his fingers up and down my arm was soothing enough to nearly put me to sleep but I fought the feeling in the case that this was the last occasion I ever spent time with Vincent.

His eyes looked so dazed, and it amazed me that these were the same eyes that looked so incredibly angry when he'd almost yelled at me that night. The same eyes that looked like I was the very last thing they wanted to see.

I suppose humans are complex beings. How we can transform from these loving, compassionate beings to the most merciless thing right before your eyes if the wrong words are spoken.

It amazes me, honestly.

"I've missed you these past couple weeks. Every day I would think about how much I needed to apologize, but I figured I was the last person you wanted to see or hear from," he admitted, looking quite apologetic as his thick brows furrowed while his gaze focused on the piece of my hair he was twisting softly between his fingers.

I smiled softly at him.

"I'd like to tell you that you're wrong, but you're not. I would've rather seen The Joker on my doorstep than you. I was hurt, very hurt," I mumbled, quirking my lips to the side as I thought about the anger and heartbreak that fueled me those days.

Those days that seemed so far away as I stared into the same eyes that held more amazement than anger. His eyelids were beginning to become droopy since it was so late, and I'm sure he was exhausted from work recently.

I was drained also but the very last thing that I wanted to do right now was sleep. There was a part of me that wanted memorize Vincent's face forever, so I could remember how my first love looked at me so fondly.

I stilled at the realization, my heart seeming frozen in my chest.

How unlucky am I? The very first man I ever fell in love with ended up not reciprocating the feeling. A sick twist of fate, if we're going to be honest.

"What are you thinking about?" Vincent's groggy voice pulled me from my thoughts and brought me back to the present where he was watching me as closely as he could through his droopy lids.