by E. S. Carter
My stomach drops, and I feel like I'm the one that's been drinking.
"You must really like her."
"Maybe."
His arm flops onto the bed, and he tilts his head to face me. With eyes too clear to have drunk the amount he has, he asks, "What's your favourite flower?"
The abrupt change of subject steals my breath.
"Or is it secret?" he all but whispers.
My eyes lock with his. "It's not a secret."
"Can you tell me?"
I close my eyes for a brief moment and debate on giving him this truth. When I open them, I find him searching my face. If I didn't know Galen, I would swear he was trying to memorise every inch of my skin.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, "Believe it or not the flower I love the most is something others, particularly gardeners, believe is a curse."
He props his head on his hand, apparently interested in what I have to say and not wanting to miss a word.
"To me, dandelions are beautiful. Any place there is a pinch of soil or a crack in the pavement they grow. They may be common, and you may be able to find them everywhere, yet one day you'll look and see a bright, yellow flower bending towards the sun, and the next day you'll see fluffy clouds full of wishes just waiting to be set free. They get to be more than one thing. They get to be both sunshine and life."
"Did you keep the one I gave you at the bus stop? Is it in one of your scrapbooks?" He smiles, and I hate that my next truth may hurt him.
"No. I didn't keep that one."
His brow furrows. "Why?"
"Because you gave it to me, and back then, I didn't want anything from you or anyone in this house."
He absorbs my words but doesn't offer any in return.
We are silent for a while, and he lies down flat on the bed, his hands resting on his stomach.
Eventually, with his eyes closed, he asks, "What do dandelions mean?"
I close my eyes and tell him, "Some people believe the dandelion will heal you from both emotional and physical pain. Others believe they mean intelligence. There are some that say they are the evidence of the warmth and power of the rising sun, but I like to think of them as survivors who rise and conquer all life's challenges and difficulties." I laugh, but it's strained. "Mum used to say that they meant long lasting happiness and getting all your wishes fulfilled."
I'm old enough to know that's not true because I wished on so many dandelions after that day, and none of those wishes came true.
We stay on the bed, our bodies as far apart as possible.
With silence comes tiredness, and after a while, Galen yawns.
"Can I stay here?" he asks, stretching his body like a sleepy cat.
"Why?" I whisper.
His head turns to face me once more, and his sleepy greens meet my tired blues. "Because I like sleeping next to you."
I should tell him to go and sleep in his own bed.
I should tell him to go and find Laurie and sleep with her.
But, I'm just a girl.
I'm not strong like the dandelions.
"You can stay in here, but I'm warning you, you'll have to get up early."
"What for?"
"Because."
"Okay," he says, rolling over onto his side and curling up into a ball. "Wake me up when it's early."
His hand brushes across the sheets and lands on my ankle.
"Thanks for coming to get me tonight. At the risk of sounding sappy, I'd say you're the only friend I can rely on."
Friend.
I hate that word.
I switch off the light, and the room descends into darkness.
I slip further down the bed, and my legs rest close to his torso. Soon I'm drifting off to sleep to Galen's steady, even breaths.
At some point during the night, he ends up spooned behind me with his arm draped around my waist. I remember this feeling from before.
I like it.
I think about moving his arm, and how if Mum saw us like this she wouldn't be happy. But I do nothing. I do nothing because I like it too much.
Galen grumbles when I wake him.
"Get up lazy bones," I say, shaking his shoulders. “If you're not coming with me, you have to get in your own bed."
"I'm coming. I'm coming," he mumbles, and it sounds more like 'I'm mumming.'
"Where are we going anyway?"
"It's a secret. Do you trust me?" I say with a smile, throwing his words from long ago back at him as he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes.
His face scrunches up adorably before he shakes it off and blinks awake. With a sincerity that pierces my chest, he says, "Always."
I swallow and take a steadying breath to find the words, "I'll meet you downstairs in ten."
He smiles at me before hauling himself off the bed. I ignore his undressed state and push him towards his room.
It's early June, and the something I want to show him isn’t that close to Mum’s house.
As agreed, he's downstairs waiting for me ten minutes later, and we make our way towards the outskirts of our town.
In a narrow country lane that leads to farmland and meadows, he asks once more where we are going, but I just smirk at him and offer him my hand.
Our fingers wind tightly together, and the sun rises higher in the sky as I tug him towards a stile hidden between hawthorn bushes.
"This way."
We climb over and drop down into an empty field likely used for grazing later in the summer.
My lips tip up into a broad smile when I find that I couldn't have timed it any more perfectly.
There, spread out before us, is a field of wild grass fit to burst with thousands upon thousands of seeding dandelions.
Some people call the fluffy round heads 'clocks', but the correct name is capitulum. I don’t tell him this though. I let the moment sit between us in its perfection without need for explanation.
Galen's hand squeezes mine tighter, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. His smile matches mine.
We don't need to exchange words. He knows what I'm showing him.
With careful steps, I guide him into the field, and even though we take our time, puffs of floating dandelion seeds dive and soar all around us.
When we get to the centre, I take off my jacket and lay it on the grass. Galen follows my lead and does the same with his.
With our heads touching, we lie quietly side by side, looking up at the cotton candy sky while long stalks of grass and perfect balls of fluff sway on the breeze all around us.
"I can see why they’re your favourites," he says, still clutching my hand tightly in his.
I tilt my head to look at him, our foreheads touching, and we are close enough to share the same breath.
The moment is too much. Too perfect.
Turning back towards the sky, I force my mouth to spread wide—not a fake smile, but costly.
"Come on." I push up to my feet and tug him to follow. "Run with me."
And we do. Until we're out of breath, covered in dandelion fluff, and laughing like there’s only us in the world.
My heart whispers, 'This. This is why your other dreams weren't granted. For this moment. To share this with him.'
Chapter Twenty-One
We celebrate Galen's birthday at an upscale Gastropub hidden deep in the Welsh countryside.
The waitlist for this place is long, and rightly so. The chef won something like MasterChef, and the food is a mixture of nouveau cuisine with the homeliness of a Welsh kitchen.
We all dress up, each of us putting on our best outfits and happy faces to celebrate Galen's eighteenth.
"You’re an adult, I can’t believe how fast the time has flown by," Mum says after our initial toast of Happy Birthday.
We're each given a flute of champagne, even me and Rhys who are still underage.
"Yeah, but it's another year before you get rid of me. I deferred uni, remember? I get to laze about home."
"Are you gonna tra
vel?" Rhys asks, fiddling with the rows of cutlery around his plate.
"No, I'm going to stay home. I want to travel after university. This twelve months is for me to focus on the band."
One. One more year, then he'll leave. But I'll still be here.
Will he stay in contact?
I doubt it. Why would he when he’s off living life and I’m just a schoolgirl?
Max leans back in his chair and looks at Mum.
"I can remember when we were eighteen," he says, a contemplative look on his face.
She laughs. "Yeah. Eighteen was the year that you left me and went off and did your own thing. Eighteen was the year my heart shattered into pieces because I'd lost my best friend."
Max snorts in disbelief. "You had your girlfriends, you travelled around Europe, and you were always out somewhere living it up."
Mum rolls her eyes, but her lips are smiling. "Why’d you think I did that? Idiot."
Max looks at Mum completely confused and shrugs as if to say 'I don't know.'
"I was utterly miserable when you left to go to university on the other side of the country, but I didn't want you to know that. I wanted you to see all the fun I was having and think you were missing out. Not on the fun, on me."
Max turns his chair and takes both her hands in his, before bringing them to his lips for a kiss. He looks directly into her eyes, lowers his voice and says, "God, you have no bloody clue how much I missed you."
It's a private moment meant for them. We shouldn't be witnessing it.
Rhys coughs loudly. "I think it's time to order."
I know what he's doing. He can't bear to hear how long Mum has been in love with Max. Because if that's the case, did she ever love Dad at all?
I stare at the gilt-edged menu in front of me. My eyes flick over the top, and I notice Galen fiddling with the edge of his.
What began as a celebration and the clinking of champagne glasses is turning into something awkward, when it should be about Gal, nothing else.
Max and Mum are oblivious to it and lost in one another, while the rest of us sit here with our chests carved open, and our vulnerable hearts exposed, just waiting for one or the other to prod inside and make them bleed.
The more I think about it though, the more I'm confused why Galen seems upset. Rhys and I have the right, but he never lost out. We did.
I wonder if it's not that he's upset, he just feels awkward for us. Or is it he can see the similarity? Soon he will shatter my heart much the same way his father did to my mother.
Like father, like son.
I scan the menu to find the most expensive option, and then I announce almost regally, "I think I'm going to have the lobster thermidor."
Mum's head snaps my way.
"You what?"
"Lobster thermidor," I say with a serious face, nodding at the menu before me and not making eye contact.
"Firstly, you don't like seafood."
I suppress a grin as she lets go of Max's hands and checks the menu.
"And secondly," she says, eyeballing me over the top of it. "I wasn't planning to take out another mortgage to pay for your meal."
That sets Rhys off. "I think I'll have one too."
Galen catches on. "Yeah, looks delicious to me."
Max's eyes nearly bug out of his head. He's spotted the price too.
"Come on, guys. You can't be serious. Choose something else."
All three of us look at each other.
All three of us suppress our grins.
We all agree to order something different, none of us truly interested in the lobster thermidor, and the meal continues the way it started, filled with light-hearted banter, much the way I imagine most families would be when celebrating a milestone birthday.
When we get back to the house, Rhys disappears as normal, and Max and Mum head into the living room. Before I can make my way upstairs, Galen clears his throat behind me.
"Want to watch a film in the TV room?"
I stare at his face. He doesn't look any older than yesterday, but I can feel the gulf between us stretching and getting bigger.
I bought him a gift, but I haven't given it to him yet.
"Sure I'll meet you there."
Once in my bedroom, I lay flat on my belly and pull out the lockbox from under my bed. It's where I store things that I don't want to be found, and I keep the little silver key on a chain around my neck. It's not that I think anyone would snoop; it just helps me feel like there's a piece of this house that's mine and mine alone.
I quickly unlock the box and pull out Galen's gift.
I feel nervous about giving this to him. It's more personal than tickets to a gig or a generic gift like aftershave.
When I walk into the TV room, Galen is setting up the DVD. He looks at me over his shoulder, wiggling the box of an action film he's chosen with a sneaky grin on his face.
"You weren't here, so I got to pick."
I can see he's surprised when I nod without complaint and take a seat on the sofa. He quickly presses play and comes to sit next to me.
While the trailers play, I place the small velvet pouch on his knee.
His eyes flick to mine, and I can't help but return the smile that spreads across his face because that smile is only for me.
"Happy Birthday, Galen."
He fiddles with the tied strings before opening them and stretching the top of the pouch wide before tipping the contents into his palm.
With shaky fingers, he picks up the item and brings it closer to his face.
It's a solid silver plectrum engraved with the words 'Ad Libitum.'
He used Latin to tell me that my label said ‘Forbidden’, so my gift to him is a music term which means—
“At one's will," he whispers reverently, his voice catching on the last word.
"Yes, but in musical terms, it means to perform at one's will," I explain.
I wonder if he gets it.
I wonder if he realises it means more than him going off and performing or chasing his dreams.
It means he can choose.
'Me,' my heart whispers. 'Choose me.'
Galen gave me the title forbidden, but I'm telling him to use his free will.
Our eyes lock. Perfect lawn green to bright blue.
"Thanks, Fflur," he murmurs throatily. "I will treasure it forever."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mum encouraged me to have Emma and Erin over to stay.
We've been watching chick flicks in the TV room all evening, and eating our body weight in popcorn and Haribos.
It's gone midnight before we all climb into our sleeping bags, and it's Emma who starts the conversation about boys and sex.
"So which one of you has done it yet?"
Erin and I remain silent, and I shuffle uncomfortably in my sleeping bag.
"Oh, come on," she huffs. "We can talk about this stuff. We're not nuns."
"Only if you turn off the lights," Erin mumbles.
"What have the lights got to do with anything?" Emma complains.
I look over at Erin and see her shrug, her cheeks rosy red. "I don't know. It's just easier to talk about it if you can't watch me."
I'm not so sure about that.
"Fine," Emma grumbles, sliding out of her bag, and walking over to the only light on in the room, a tall lamp. Clicking it off and with only the TV flickering in the background, she climbs back in her bag and surprises us both by saying, "I let Toby in my knickers two weeks ago."
"You what?" Erin gasps. "Toby Canter? Why would you even go near that dickhead?"
Emma giggles. I don't think I've ever heard her giggle. "He's hot. He's got a car, and he hangs around with Galen and Gareth's crowd."
"What a catch," I mumble under my breath, but she hears me.
"What? You jealous, Fflur?"
I don't answer her and seemingly annoyed that she doesn't get to argue with me, she hits below the belt with, "If you didn't spend all your free time pining for your
brother, you'd find someone like Toby."
I'm mute. What the hell is she trying to say?
I don't have to ask because like the bitch she's turning into, she says, "I mean Galen is gorgeous, and everyone fancies him, but it's kinda creepy to have the hots for your own brother, isn't it Erin? Tell her."
"Not cool, Em," Erin states quietly, but Emma just sighs and flops onto her back. She continues to regale us with tales of Toby's fingers, and the size of his cock that he tried to get her to suck. But I'm unable to breathe, let alone speak.
There’s no way she knows how I feel about Galen. I've kept that secret locked tight. I've only ever shared it with my flowers. She's just trying to get a reaction out of me, likely because she fancies him herself.
I make an excuse about needing the toilet, and duck out of the room just as Emma begins to grill poor Erin about some friend of her brother’s, but it's just my luck to bump right into Galen outside his bedroom door.
"Having fun, Fflur?" he asks with a grin, staring hard at my fire-red face.
I press the palms of my hands to my cheeks and look away. With a shrug and my hand on the handle of the bathroom door, I offer, "I was until they started talking about sex and stuff."
He moves closer to me like that's the juiciest gossip he's had all week and needs to hear more.
"I thought that's what you girls did. What's wrong, you not up for it? Come on. You can give me the details."
"No. I'm not talking to you about stuff like that."
Galen smiles. It's the cocky one that always finds his face. The one he's perfected.
"Don't be scared about sex. Everyone does it."
"Have you?" I blurt out, my eyes clashing with his.
He shrugs but steps forward into my personal space, his face serious when he says, "You should wait until you find someone you're comfortable with, don’t give it up to just anyone."
His eyes flit to my lips, before finding mine once more.
I swallow. The gap between our bodies has almost disappeared. We are close enough to touch.
With shaky hands, I reach out and place both my palms on his chest. I couldn't say what gives me the awkward courage to do it. Maybe it was the talk with the girls, maybe it was the small bottle of Asti that Emma snuck out of her house, and we all had a few swigs of, but something encourages me to touch him.