Harloe Rose has never been about material things. It's one of the things I loved most about her.
As I stand here, the memories from our past threaten to pull me asunder. Sometimes, it's easy to fight them off. But other times, I can barely get away from everyone fast enough before they encompass me completely.
As predicted, the memory of that night washes through my body like a tidal wave, ripping me from my reality and thrusting me back into my past.
"I have something for you," I say with a wry smile, having just gotten back from picking up her birthday present, which, if I say so myself, is pretty damn amazing.
Her bright eyes and charismatic smile entrance me. Always has. There's just something about Harloe that speaks to the very core inside me like she's an integral part of me, and if anyone were to take that away, I would be nothing but a husk of a man.
She's my soulmate.
She's my best friend.
She's the person I want to grow old with, have kids with, and love until the day I die.
Harloe started out as my best friend, and through the years of platonic friendship, our relationship has evolved into so much more.
"Is it my birthday present?" She claps her hands rapidly as she jumps into the air with glee. Pure, unadulterated happiness practically glows off her skin. Harloe is the pure epitome of angelic beauty. Even the sun hungers to leave its warmth on her golden kissed skin.
I can't stop myself from laughing at her antics and grabbing her and pulling her into my body. Nuzzling into her neck, my lips seek the skin of her throat. "You're too adorable."
She giggles, her body trembling with suppressed laughter. My arms tighten around her waist, but instead of pushing me away, she burrows deeper into my chest.
God, I love this girl. She makes everything worth it.
"Yes," I say, raking my lips across her soft skin. I smile against her when I feel the quiver overtake her body. She's always so sensitive. "It's your birthday present."
"It's not one of those expensive doohickeys, is it?" she asks, pulling away and chancing a look up at me.
That doohickey she's talking about? It's a cell phone. Not your high tech, fancy type, either. This is a standard, run-of-the-mill, matte black cell phone with the only apps on it being the contacts and Google Chrome. It’s not the most up-to-date touchscreen, nor is it a cell phone that many people have.
Harloe had never had a cell phone for as long as I've known her. Not that her parents couldn't afford it, because they're not that poor, but because Harloe doesn’t want one. According to her, if you can't speak face-to-face with someone, then whatever you had to say to them isn’t important enough.
For the past few months, I've been joking with her about getting her a cell phone just like the one I have. Honestly, she didn't like that idea too much. She kept saying that it was unnecessary and a waste of money. While she may be true about a duplicate of my cell phone being a waste of money, being able to talk to her at any time of the day would have made the purchase worth it.
If I were getting her one. However, I know a cell phone wouldn't be something she'd cherish. She needed something with a deeper meaning. A present that would compel her to unravel the mystery behind it. A present that took time and effort to discover.
Days unfolded into weeks before I found the perfect gift that would drive my girl wild with the need to pick apart its origins with researching.
It cost a pretty penny from that store keep once she saw how interested I was in the piece. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
We're standing on my balcony, just holding each other as we stare up at the night sky. It was one of those moments after being together, and we were just taking a few moments to revel in each other's presence.
“You are a priceless treasure,” I whisper into the humid night air. “Do you know that?”
She twists her head, peering up at me through dark, thick lashes. Her smile lights up my entire world. Instead of the gray, gloomy clouds that constantly hang over my head, when I’m with her, everything is in color: vibrant reds, blues, pinks, purples. The dawn of each day has new meaning for me, just like the end of a day when the sun sets.
Harloe is both the sun and moon in my world, and my life revolves around nothing but her.
Snagging the box out of my pocket, I wrap my arm around her and hold it up in front of her near the railing. Her gasp can be heard over the whispering wind, and by the sudden jerk of her stomach.
My insides are nothing more than tumultuous waves of panic and nausea. What if she doesn't like it? What if I chose wrong? Swallowing down my sudden bout of nerves, I gesture for her to open it.
I know she can feel how hard my heart is thumping inside my chest, but she doesn't say anything as she takes the small box from my hands. Sweat drips down my temple and the back of my neck as she slowly opens it. But when she gets a peek at what's inside, a tiny squeak sounds out, before she's slapping a hand over her mouth.
Fuck, she hates it. Dammit. I'm about to tell her that I'll get her something else—something she’ll like—when she turns in my arms, tears building in her lovely greens.
"A necklace?" she asks, swallowing hard as her emotions become too heightened. "You got me a necklace."
"Do you like it?" I ask timidly.
She sniffles and then drops her head to stare back into the box once more. "Like it? I love it, Hunt. It's the best thing ever."
Then, she raises her head and lifts up onto her tip-toes as she wraps her arms around my neck. Licking my lips, I tighten my hold, bringing her flush against my front. Pressing her lips to mine, merely a ghosting of lips against lips, I feel my blood simmering, infusing my body, and traveling to places I try to hold back.
Being near Harloe, and knowing you are the only one who has the luxury, is like being in the presence of the goddess Aphrodite. My body feels alive any time she's close.
"It's a piece of treasure for my treasure."
She's quiet for a moment, thinking, as she runs her fingers through my hair. Her ministrations are so light and electrifying, it feels like her hands are running all over my body. No other girl has ever made me feel the way my best friend does. The first time we kissed, I thought it was a fluke because nothing should feel this wrong, yet be so right.
That was my belief until we kissed once more. After that time, it was undoubtedly the turning point. I knew Harloe belonged to me and only me. The same way I belonged to her.
We've been dating for over a year now, and things have been progressing. The only thing we've ever done is kiss and a little bit of fondling over our clothes up until this point, but tonight, I have this integral need to be with her. To get as close as possible as we both lose ourselves to the way we feel with each other.
Nothing too serious. I mean, I don't want to rush her with anything. But the way she's holding me tightly, unknowingly rubbing her body all over mine, and subtly caressing my hard dick, I can barely take it.
She closes the distance between our lips, giving me a quick, chaste kiss—just enough of a taste to piss me off. Darting forward, I steal another, longer kiss. She moans into my mouth, and the guttural, yearning sound causes me to lose my head for a moment. Forcing her back into the balcony ledge, my hands grab both sides of her face, tilting her head as I dive back down for a deeper, more intrusive taste.