“First, why don’t you live with your parents?”
Drake gently tugs me onto the dance floor, where several couples are already slow dancing. He sways a little, so I follow his lead. “Well, part of it is because of a dark past, but I also don’t want to use their money. I like to provide for myself by making my own money,” he answers, and if possible, that answer makes me like him more.
It shows he’s responsible. He’s not taking a simple way out. He’s fighting- literally- for the life he wants. I smile up at him and stand on my toes to peck his lips. “That’s amazing,” I murmur, making the corners of his lips turn up a little.
“So, you and your parents get along?” I ask, and he chuckles. It’s a question I’d thought about more than once but never asked.
“We get along pretty well, except when it comes to the company. They want me to take over one day, but I don’t know. Fashion design isn’t my thing, and I don’t think he understands that,” Drake says with a worried and sad look in his eyes. He wants to respect his parents, I can see it in his eyes, but he also wants to follow his chosen path.
I cup his cheek with my hand and turn his head. His eyes meet mine. “What do you want to do?” He stares into my eyes, searching. What for, I’m not sure, but I hope he finds it.
“I want to marry, have kids, and grow old with someone I love,” he admits, and my heart skips a beat. My mind whirls. What if that’s not me? Wait, would I care?
Something in me breaks at the thought of him with someone else. I love being with him. I love that he helps me be me. I love being able to fight and joke with him. I love that he treats me like I’m his equal.
“Oh, does that mean you don’t know what you’re going to do,” I say, looking up at him questioningly. He doesn’t answer; instead, he smashes his lips to mine in a heated kiss. Our lips move together, his hands gripping my hips to pull me into his chest. Oh boy, what a kiss.
We both pull away, breathless. My heart must be beating a million miles a minute from the way it feels like it’ll burst from my chest. Drake lays his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed when I open mine.
Taking a second, I study his features: strong jawline, perfect facial structure-except for the slightly crooked nose- and amazingly kissable lips. I know because I just tested them. I smile at myself. I want to test them again. And again. And again.
Drake opens his eyes, and my knees go weak. Full-on jello legs, wobbly knees weak. Let’s not forget those beautiful, deep blue eyes. If Drake weren’t holding onto me, I probably would’ve fallen right over.
“Oh, I know what I want,” he says lowly, his voice almost a growl. Another thing I love; he’s mysterious and so sure of himself. I open my mouth to say something, but an unfamiliar song plays. It’s unknown to me, but Drake knows it because he sings softly as we dance.
His voice barely above a whisper, he sings about a shop and a boy who’s looking for a ring, but all he can find at the shop is a plastic ring. The boy hopes the girl will accept the ring anyway, even though it’s cheap.
Drake moves us with the music as he croons. The words from the song send a swarm of fluttering butterflies through my stomach. I love his voice, I think to myself. It’s low with a touch of gravel and confidence. It’s lovely.
He continues singing about ink staining his skin, spoke about his ripped jeans and not being perfect, and I wonder if the song is personal for him because it matches.
“I’m perfect for you,” he murmurs the words from the song.
Drake never falters in the dance, and I can’t help but think he is perfect. Another thing I love. His perfect protectiveness.
He continues swaying and singing about the fact that life isn’t easy, that he’s not an angel, but that he’d be there, and he’d love her… me? I can’t tell. Is the song about an imaginary couple or us?
He sings the words from the song, “Wings aren’t what you need; you need me.”
Drake spins me out, making me laugh a little before bringing me back to his chest. I don’t want an easy relationship. I want passion. Easy isn’t always good, so I want to fight for what I love. Yes, I think I’m falling in love with him.
The next lines are about a house and how the boy will work and work hard to afford to get it for the girl he loves. How he’ll work through sun and rain, through good and bad, until he has it for her because she loves the little house.
Drake keeps us moving, and I don’t think twice about what I’m doing as I lay my head on his chest. Another thing I love, his determination.
He continues singing about how the boy is perfect for the girl, even though he might not look like he is. The guy wants to be there for her and be her strength when she can’t be her own stability. He wants to love her endlessly.
Definitely perfect for me. How did I ever think otherwise?
I can feel eyes on us, but I don’t look up. I’m right where I want to be. Just like the song says, I need him. He helps me be myself, and I want to be this song. I want him to be the boy, and I want to be the girl he loves.
When the song slows to an end, he holds me close, murmuring the words, “‘Endlessly,’ by the Cab.” That must be who wrote the song. “Our song,” he says, and I nod. We have a song now. It’s a little cliche, but I don’t mind. It’s not something I’d ever thought about or wanted, but I love that we have something else to connect us.
“I want this to work,” Drake whispers, leaning in closer. “I want us to work.” My breath catches in my throat. “Athena, I know that we’ve only just gotten together, but I want to be with you. I will fight for you, provide for you, and be there for you,” he promises.
Tears fill my eyes, and I look down a little. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip. “Athena?” When I look back up, a pained expression crosses his face. I lay my hand on the back of his neck and pull him down, connecting our lips.
Chapter 20
Athena
The weekend passed quickly after the party, and I thought a lot about Drake. Like, sometimes, I caught myself thinking about him when I should’ve been thinking of other things. He popped into my mind and took over.
Other than a few confused stares and people trying to befriend me, everything is back to normal. I went to the doctor on Sunday. He said I’m fine and that I’ve healed well. As soon as I got the news, I texted Mason.
He got me a fight for tonight. I have to admit I’m excited. I’ve missed fighting. I feel like it’s been ages since I was in the ring last. Drake promised that he’d be there, and I’m hoping that Mason can sneak out too.
“Hey, babe,” Drake says, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. I close my locker, and he lifts his hand to show me two small blue orchids. The orchids have dark and light blue petals with stems that connect. A smile tilts my lips, and I turn in Drake’s arms.
“Hi,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips. Soft lips that I could spend all day kissing.
“Have a good day?” He asks after pulling out of the kiss. I take the flowers from him and lightly run my finger down the petals.
“Uh-huh, I’m just ready for tonight,” I answer. “You?” My eyes flicker to his. They’re such a pretty color. I could stand here, look into his eyes all day, and still love them. He looks at me and nods, then pecks my lips again. Man of many words… not. But it’s okay. He makes up for it in his actions, like being ridiculously cute and bringing me flowers that are my favorite color.
Drake takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand softly, and smiles at me. “Ready to go? We have work,” he reminds me, and I nod.
I sling my bag over my arm and bite my lip. I brought my bike today, but now I wish I’d just ridden with Drake so we could take one vehicle to work and then Underground. We stop at my bike, and I grab my helmet. “See you there,” I say, and he nods.
“Love you,” he says softly, kissing me.
I climb onto my bike and finally speed away. It doesn’t take long to get to the flower shop, an
d when I park, Drake is there, climbing out of his car. Jeez. He must’ve sped or found a shortcut. I slide off my bike. “Beat ya,” he grins, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth and causing little laugh wrinkles to surround his eyes. Childishly, I stick my tongue out at him.
“Whatever,” I argue, pushing his chest. “It wasn’t a race,” I add on, feeling silly for arguing about something so unimportant. Yet, it makes me smile. Having someone- other than Mason- I can bicker with, without needing to worry about their misunderstanding or getting upset, is nice.
Together, we walk into the shop, and the little bell above the door signals our arrival. Mrs. G looks up. “Hello, you two,” she greets with a big smile. I smile and hug her gently. She’s so fragile that I feel if I squeeze her any, she’ll break.
“What should we start with first?”
She looks around for a second. “I have a new shipment of soil. Drake, could you get that?” She asks. Drake nods, then she turns to me. “Will you run the counter while I go on my late lunch break?”
I nod and smile. “Of course, take your time,” I say, walking back to the counter. Mrs. G grabs her purse and quietly leaves with a goodbye. I can’t believe she waits until almost four to have her lunch. We’ll need to talk about that, maybe see if she can set lunch hours where she closes the shop. I don’t want to arrive one day to find her passed out because she didn’t eat anything.
I step behind the counter. As I do, Drake saunters back in with two bags of soil on his shoulder. His arms flex, showing off his muscles, as he sets them down on the pile, and I bite my lip. I just have to say that my boyfriend is HOT.
He’s just the right mix of lean and muscular to be attractive and not look like he’s on steroids. His tattoos follow his body's natural lines, creating a cut, defined look that makes my mouth water. Then the dark clothes he wears gives off that ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe that contrasts with the caring, sweet vibe that he gives off around me. I sigh as he leaves the room, taking away my eye-candy.
Just as he disappears, the bell above the door rings.
“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the man. I’ll admit he doesn’t look like someone who’d generally be in a flower shop. He’s tall but slouched over, maybe to make himself look smaller. A hoodie shades part of his face, making it hard to see his features. Everything about him screams thug.
“Yeah,” he grunts, “Where the owner at?” He asks and slaps his palms on the counter, leaning in. The light catches the scar across his jaw, a menacing and jagged scar. I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at him.
“Who are you?” I ask, watching him closely. Drake enters again and immediately assesses the situation. He sees a menacing man glaring at his girlfriend.
“Can I help you?” Drake practically growls, and the man looks at him.
“I’m lookin’ for the owner,” he states. I snap my finger in front of the guy’s face for his attention, and it works. He looks at me.
“I’m her granddaughter,” I lie. I’m not giving him any information without good reason. “What do you need?” He smirks at me and leans forward. I notice Drake take a step toward us out of my peripheral, but I hold my hand up to tell him I’ve got it. The man removes his hood, and my eyes widen. He looks familiar, but no matter how much I stare at him, I can’t figure out from where.
Shaking off this thought, I look back at the man.
“If you’re her granddaughter, then I can collect from you,” he says, and confusion fills me. Collect?
“What’re you talking-” I ask, and before I can finish, he grabs the front of my shirt. A sliver of fear pushes my heart into a gallop. I remind myself it’s nothing I haven’t felt before, so I push it away.
“I want the money!” I grab the man’s wrist, shove my hand into it. A cracking sound echoes through the room, and he yells in pain.
“Why are you here?” I snarl, moving around the counter as he cradles his wrist to his chest. Pain is a mask over his face, yet his thin lips tell me he’s trying not to show it. Trying and failing.
He looks up at me and glares. “Her dead husband owed my boss money. We gave her three months. She hasn’t paid up,” he explains with annoyance and anger in his tone.
“How much?”
“What?”
I roll my eyes and grab the collar of his shirt. “I said, how much?” He lets out a pained breath when I shake him. If he thinks he’ll just stand there without answering me, he’s dead wrong. I stand my ground and feel Drake step up behind me. My first thought is that I’m glad he’s giving me support by being so close. The second thought is, I appreciate he’s letting me fight for myself.
“Six grand,” he answers, and my eyes widen.
“What did he do? Why does he owe your boss that much?” I ask, letting go of his shirt and causing him to stumble back. He glares at me, and I can practically feel the anger rolling off of him.
“He borrowed money so he could buy this dump,” he motions to the shop. “He died a year ago after only paying half, but he still owes $6,000.”
“I’ll pay it; just give me two days,” I announce. The man, if you can call him that, raises an eyebrow.
He rakes his eyes over me and then looks up at my face. “How’s a little girl like you gonna come up with that in two days?” He smirks, and I let out a chuckle. I’m sure I can get the money from my fights. I’ll just schedule one or two more.
“I have my ways. Come back in two days. If I don’t have your money, you can take me to your boss, and he can do whatever, but leave my grandmother out of this,” I warn him, and he smirks again. Drake’s hand grips my elbow, and while he says nothing, I know he wants to protest my promise.
“Fine,” he hisses in a dangerous tone before turning and leaving.
When he’s out of sight, I release a breath as my teeth grind together. Drake’s arms wrap around my waist and pull me to his chest, ever comforting. “You okay?” He murmurs.
“Yeah, I just need a few more fights for the money.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“When I was too young to get a job, Mrs. G hired me. No one else would, and back then, I was too young to fight underground. She’s helped me through all my crap and has treated me like family,” I explain and run a hand through my hair. “I knew Mr. G, and he was such a nice man. He bought this place for her so she could do what she loves, but he got sick.”
Mr. G was one of the sweetest older men I’d ever met. I never knew my grandparents, so in my mind, they’re my grandparents. Mr. G used to bring me little snacks and tell me about how he and Mrs. G met when they were in middle school. They’d dated through high school and had gotten married after he came back from the War.
“I’ve worked here since I was thirteen. I started right after my dad died. Mr. G died when I was fourteen, so I helped start this place up. I’ve saved money from here and from fighting so that I can pay the money. I owe her, Drake,” I explain, and Drake looks into my eyes, leans in, and lays his forehead against mine.
“You’re amazing. You know that?” He asks softly, and I smile. Drake leans down and gently puts his lips to mine in a slow yet precise movement. Our lips move together, but the sound of the bell ringing pulls us away. Mrs. G enters with a smile on her face.
“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting,” she laughs. I pull away, biting my bottom lip as heat rushes into my cheeks. She winks at me and puts her purse back behind the counter. I glance back at Drake, then look to Mrs. G.
“We’ll just.. um, get back to work,” I mutter, grabbing a can to water the flowers.
~*~
“I’ll be over in a bit. I just need to do a few things,” I tell Drake as I climb off my bike. He nods and kisses my forehead.
“Just come over when you’re done,” he tells me before leaving and going to his house. Sighing, I make my way into the house. Thankfully, Lexi is out with Lucas, and Alisha is out with her latest conquest. Gross.
Quickly, I run to my room and throw d
own my bag. I move to my closet and pull out my black-and-white striped crop top. I’m already wearing my black, high-rise, ripped skinny jeans, so I just grab my black hidden wedge sneakers. Walking out of my closet, I pull my shirt off and throw it into the laundry basket. I pull on the crop top, then slip my shoes off and push my feet into my shoes.
They’re one of my favorite pairs of shoes. The hidden heel gives me a bit of a height advantage and a secret weapon when I’m fighting.
Heading over to my bedside table, I grab a hair elastic and slip it onto my wrist. Next, I gather my phone, wallet, and keys. Doing a quick once over, I check that I have everything I need. Time to leave.
I make my way downstairs and shudder when I hear a moan from Lexi’s room. I run out of the house after that, over to Drake’s front door, and knock. Someone from the other side of the door yells, “Come in.” I walk past the kitchen to find Alec and Chase seated at the table.
“Hey guys,” I call, and they turn around with a wave.
“Hey, Athena,” Alec greets. I smile and make my way to the living room to find Ross playing Xbox. He looks up when I walk in and jumps out of his seat- the game forgotten.
“Button!” He picks me up and spins me around. Laughter bubbles from me until he places me on my feet. He’s always so excited and upbeat, like a child on Christmas. It’s refreshing.
“Hey, Ross,” I hug him, and he pulls away.
“Where’s Drake?” I ask, looking around. Ross plops back on the couch and picks up his game controller, “In his room,” he answers, hitching his thumb to the stairs. I thank him and head up. Each door has one of the guy’s names on it, so I walk until I stop at Drake’s closed door.
Quietly, I turn the knob and open the door. I poke my head in. He’s asleep on his bed, an arm over his eyes and snoring softly, making me smile. I should let him sleep. A soft snore grumbles from him, and I can’t hold in the giggle. Nah. I sneak over to his bed and carefully climb on, curling up next to him. He stirs, turns his head toward me, and lowers his hand to my hip.
Slowly, I lean in and press my lips to his. He pulls me closer, and after a second, he kisses back, his hand moving up to my waist. His thumb brushes the skin of my side, not covered by my top.
Not So Cinderella Page 18