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irwintry · 5 years

Text

Garden Guru

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: i should rly work on some new stuff

Word Count: 6k

You didn't understand your mother's love for Gerber daisies. Personally, you were a petunia gal yourself. The yard had plenty of each, along with a million other flowers that had been purchased in spurts throughout the year. Ever since you could remember, the garage of your family home never housed cars, but pots and planters instead to contribute to your mother's love for gardening.

This "love" spread elsewhere by the time you were fourteen. She'd gathered enough money to buy out the old abandoned fresh food market on Locust Ave, and in under a year, the final renovations revealed a spectacular flower shop made with all kinds of love. The porch was filled with annuals and perennials, even succulents that you talked her into ordering. She asked you to paint the great big sign that would dangle from the entrance, and even though you've never been much of an artist, you complied. Betty Bloom Florals was now open.

While you were away at college, your mother ran the shop all by herself. She felt thankful for summers especially; sales were out the wazoo and you were there right by her side. When she wasn't managing Betty Bloom, she was offering herself off as a gardener for anyone willing to pay the fees. Her background in landscape landed her roles through the Parks and Recreation department of the town, which made it harder for her to "be the boss". Though she didn't necessarily sell Betty Bloom, it opened under new management. Now, she owned but never operated.

The yard of your childhood home was your favorite landscape design of all time. The patch of green by the back fence housed a willow with a tire swing younger Y/N used to love. To its left, a fairly large greenhouse (for a backyard, at least) sat, filled to the brim with flowers, fruits, and veggies. Just off of the porch, a stone path hugged by two ginormous flower gardens led back to the greenhouse.

The garden your mother created was the love of your life. When she couldn't tend to it, you took charge. She wasn't picky per se, but often, she'd tell you what she would have preferred. Nonetheless, she never complained. It wasn't just her garden; it was yours as well.

It was the summer before your senior year. Working was going to be the same as every year had been since you started high school, but those plans fell short when your mother asked you to help out with landscaping instead. You jumped at the opportunity; however, that meant more days cooped up at home in her office while the two of you tried to agree on many, many decisions.

You loved being the daughter of a florist/ gardener because most of the time, life felt so simple.

"Y/N?"

You hummed, stirring in your sleep as you dreamt about what you would be doing now if you had gone to Hogwarts. Would you be an Auror? Okay, maybe not. They're, like, the elite... You've got to be really good.

"Y/N!" That voice was no longer a whisper, and you were no longer thinking about wandering through the Ministry of Magic and glaring at the certain wizards you disliked.

"Hmm?" You blinked your eyes open, but they had nothing to adjust to. It was still pitch dark in your room. Maybe you were hearing things. You closed your eyes again.

"Y/N." It was your mother's voice. "I think there are kids in our backyard."

"Mmm kay."

"Y/N."

"What?"

"There are kids in our backyard," she repeated.

Your eyes shot back open, and you nearly sprung out of bed to take ahold of her arms. "The flowers!"

"Yeah, the flowers," she mocked, folding her arms meanwhile freeing herself from your tight grip. She glanced toward the window that faced the backyard and nodded towards it. "Maybe you can open your window and listen in."

"Won't they hear me?" you asked. Your stomach began to hurt; you had gotten up way too fast.

She shrugged. "Yeah, and? I think they're drunk. And, they're ruining our garden."

You liked that she said our garden, even though most of the gardening had been done by her before you came back from school. You huffed and stomped over to the window, kneeling down so you could get a good angle to open the window. You tried your best to keep quiet as you did so, but apparently, they hadn't heard a thing.

"Have you fucking found any?" one asked after a long moment of rustling.

"I can't see jack shit, Luke," another replied. "Get off my butt."

You looked back to your mother, even though she was barely a visible silhouette. The kids below had flashlights – off of their phones most likely, and they were shining all over the place. There looked to be about five or six separate people darting around the yard.

"I think I found so– Nah, sorry, it was an actual weed."

Behind you, your mother huffed. "I don't have weeds."

That was when it hit you. They didn't happen upon your yard randomly while trying to sneak out somewhere, they were trying to find pot. That was also something your mother didn't have (to the extent of your knowledge), so naturally, these drunk boys were trespassing for no real reason at all.

"That's what they want," you whispered.

"What?"

"They're looking for weed," you said. "Not weeds." You shut the window slowly and began in the direction of the stairs to the first floor. "You don't happen to grow pot, do you?"

Your mother gasped as she followed you. "Oh my gosh, you're kidding me! That's what they're looking for?"

"Yep."

You opened the sliding glass door with a loud bang, and immediately a bunch of distressed swears followed. A second later, you had switched on the light. Both you and your mom stood with your arms crossed, but when the light illuminated your backyard, only one perpetrator could be found. The tall blond boy was staring at the two of you, his eyes wide and watery, his mouth hung wide open. His hands were shaky as he held them up, meanwhile shining you right in the eye with his flashlight.

"I-I-I'm– I'm s-so– "

"What's your name, sweetie?" your mother questioned slowly, her tone sharp yet calm.

He swallowed, hardly moving anything but his mouth or head. "L-Luke."

"Ah," you chuckled. "You're Luke. Did you get off of that guy's butt?"

It would have been a better joke if Luke hadn't looked so damn terrified. A part of you wanted to shrug and tell him to get the hell out; he looked too scared to be guilty of anything. But then, you took a look at the garden. Your mother seemed to be on the same page, for she had to sit down on a patio chair to keep her heart from racing too hard.

"We're calling the police," you said, trying your best to sound stern. In reality, you wanted to go back to bed. You wanted to curl up under your sheets and go back to dreaming about live in the wizarding world, but now you were having to deal with a cute trespasser with drunk intentions just to find weed.

He began shaking his head, and even from far away, you could see his lip trembling. "Please, I'll– I'll do anything."

"I'm sorry, but– "

"Anything?" your mother asked. The question itself sounded as sketchy as it was written. She uncrossed her legs before standing up, her arms still folded while she stared this Luke guy down.

He nodded. He still hadn't moved otherwise.

"You've torn my garden to shreds for what– weed?" She had a way of scaring people without yelling, something you realized early on when you were a child. It was her discipline tactic. "Gardens don't take minutes to plant and grow, so my proposition for you is– "

"Anything," he said. "Promise." This poor Luke needed a break.

"I'll give you the tools, and you fix my garden back up just the way I had designed it." Your mom walked back to the sliding door. "Come back here tomorrow at nine in the morning. You're pulling everything."

"I-I... I don't know how to garden."

She shrugged. "Y/N will show you."

You had been nodding along, and the sentence almost escaped you. Your eyes widened as your head snapped in her direction. "What? No. This is all his fault." And his other friends' of course, but if you knew guys any better, you knew that there was no way he'd be able to get his other friends to help. They weren't in the kind of trouble he was. Surely, he was going to be pissed at them.

"You work for me, so I'm asking you to help him out," she whispered to you. "Look at those eyes. Maybe you'll fall for the felon."

You sighed and glanced back at Luke. His arms were starting to lower back to his sides, but his sad eyes were as large as Jupiter. You didn't want to admit that your mother made a convincing argument; now that you'd gotten a better look at him, he was as cute as a button. And, he was so freakin' tall. How on earth a normal human could look like the embodiment of Gumby, you had no idea.

You glanced around at the stirred-up hell he and his friends created, the anger bubbling in your stomach at the thought of the hard work you and your mom put into the garden. Now, you had to do it all over again, this time with a stranger that caused it all. But, your mom was right; you work for her.

"Fine," you said. "Nine tomorrow. Bring money. We've got a lot of shit to buy because of you."

He nodded, holding back a gulp as your mother prepared to head back inside. "Thank you." His voice had strained confidence in it, almost as if he was now trying to sound less-wimpy.

Truly, you didn't think he was a wimp. If you had been in his shoes, you would be terrified of getting arrested as well. The thing was, you liked the fact that he was scared. He deserved it for the mess he made.

You gave him a smile. "Don't thank us yet, Gumby."

You half-expected this kid to show up twenty minutes early (mostly because he looked so damn scared the night prior, so you figured he'd do anything to make it up to the both of you), but when he arrived at 9:30 in a flannel and jeans, you couldn't help but laugh. This was what you had to work with, someone who showed up late and in inappropriate clothing for the job.

"Are we going to like, Lowes or something?" Luke asked as he approached you on the front porch. He looked hungover and exhausted, but he was no longer in shock like he had been last night.

You slung your small backpack over your shoulder and brushed passed him without a second glance. "Sammi's Greenhouse. I hope you got a nice dandy playlist for the hour-long drive."

"Hour?" he questioned. He hadn't moved from his spot on the path to your house while you were now getting in the driver's seat of your car. "What the fu– "

You shut the door and turned on the ignition. When you looked back at him, he was rolling his eyes and finally making his way to the car. So, what? He was annoyed? You were dreading this now, and you were definitely going to text your mother a super long message once you arrived at Sammi's. By this rate, you were sure this garden would take the entire summer to manage. It would be too late by then.

"What are we going that far fo'?" he asked as he slid in the passenger seat. He made a face as he took in the interior of your car. Sure, it was somewhat messy, but Betsy had been through hell and back with you. "It's gonna take us all fuckin' day to get this dumb garden fixed."

"Listen, Gumby– " You took a breath as you began backing out of the driveway. "Clearly, you don't know shit about gardening, so how 'bout you start off by not speaking at all. Okay? You're damn lucky we're not reporting you. Suck it up and follow everything I do. You're already a pain in my ass and we haven't even left the neighborhood."

"Jesus... fine," he whispered as he began playing with the rings on his fingers.

"And, I hate to break it to you bud, but this dumb garden is going to take a little longer than one stupid day to fix," you continued. You were trying not to make your nerves known through your tone.

"What?"

Your eyes widened; his "what" had been so high and loud, you nearly slammed your foot on the brakes.

"How long's this gonna fuckin' take?" Meanwhile, as he spoke, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses that looked way too expensive to be worn in a car like Betsy. In fact, he looked way too expensive for Betsy. It made you wonder why he was scavenging around your garden for weed when he could most likely get as many grams as his dumbass wanted.

"Well," you said with a sigh, "to plant... maybe a week. Which, in all honesty, is the minimum approximate time I can give you. It's a big garden, and everything needs to be perfect to satisfy my mom. If one marigold is where a petunia should be, then I wouldn't be surprised if she threatened the police on you again. I mean, hell, Gumby, you all fucking dug up almost the entire garden."

"How do you know I didn't work alone?" he questioned, surprise lacing his tone. "Also, why do you keep calling me that?"

"What? Gumby?" you asked innocently. "You know Gumby, right?"

"That clay dude?"

"Yeah, you look like him," you said. You turned down Locust Ave.

"I do not."

"Hm, kinda do."

"No, fuck you, I– "

"Anyway, my mom and I heard you all from my bedroom." You didn't want to bicker with him at this early in the morning. "You guys weren't necessarily trying to be quiet."

"We were drunk." Luke had his entire body facing away from you as he watched the buildings go by outside. His fingers were drumming along the side while he spoke.

You chuckled. "Yeah, we know, dumbass." You took a short pause before continuing on with your previous thoughts. "But... not only are you going to help plant the garden, but I'm assuming my mom wants you to help tend to it too so you can count on being at my house a lot more than just a week, that's for sure."

"What the fuck," he muttered under his breath.

"Get some tunes ready, sweetie," you said. You certainly didn't like being around Luke, but you hoped to at least get along with him eventually. "It's gonna be a long road ahead."

Luke groaned but pulled out his phone nevertheless.

"So..."

"So?"

"You got a Pokey, Gumby?" You couldn't stop smiling.

He huffed. "Fuck off."

You knew the flowers your mother liked to plant off the top of your head, but apparently, it would have been helpful if you had written things down. On your own, shopping would have been fine; however, you were with Luke who had no idea how to tell the difference between hydrangeas and dahlias (which, quite honestly, you weren't that peeved about considering the fact that they were placed right next to each other in the greenhouse and the blooms were the same color).

"What do you think of these?" you asked as you glanced around at the pansies. It had already been about an hour since you arrived, and Luke was certainly having the time of his life as you took ten minutes picking out which flowers you deemed perfect. "My mom is kind of lenient sometimes when it comes to the flowers I prefer. Orange or blue?"

"Look, I literally don't– "

"Orange or blue?" you repeated, now agitated. He had been pissy ever since you arrived – well, he had been pissy all damn day technically.

"Blue," he replied. "How much is this all gonna be anyway? I don't need my bank callin' and askin' why I purchased a thousand dollars' worth of fucking flowers."

You shrugged. "Maybe they'll just assume you've actually found a passion for once in your life."

Luke clearly did not like your response. Not only had you avoided his question about the price, but you had also insulted his personality in a way. Granted, you knew nothing about him, so it was rude to assume he had no passions. Maybe he wanted to be an astronaut. He'd have to behave a bit better to get there.

"I'm in a band," he seethed. "I'd honestly rather be in jail right now than be here with you."

You laughed, but it stung. Laughter was your coping mechanism. Humor – in general – made you pretend to feel better about a lot of things. "'m sure bail is much more than this garden will ever cost, sweetie."

"Okay, don't call me that," he said. "Again, how much is this going to be?"

You tried to think back to previous years while you eyed the impatiens. According to your mother's garden plan, you needed a lot of those. You hadn't gone shopping with her since before college, and now you were nearly about to start your last year. Her garden designs had certainly changed since then, but you couldn't imagine the prices being too terribly different.

"A few hundred," you answered honestly. "Not more than five, I believe."

You couldn't tell if he believed you, but he stayed silent for the first time since the two of you met completely sober this morning. Luke rubbed his eyes and pushed the cart closer to you so you could begin loading a few plastic pots. Poor old Betsy would not be able to handle this load, so, like in years past, you would have to get Peter to transport a few as well.

Peter was a friend of your family's. He had been working at Sammi's for as long as you could remember, and ever since you and your mom became garden goddesses, he had been helping you out. Most often, he'd take the heavy load of flowers or bushes in his pick-up, and then you'd give him a generous tip at the end. Even though Luke was paying for the whole purchase, you were going to give Peter the tip for personal reasons.

"'m not sure this is even legal," Luke mumbled after a few quiet minutes.

You winced; you had been hoping for more silence. "What?"

"You should've taken me to court," he said, "and then you could've given the judge an alternative. According to the law, 'm not sure you and your mum can make the rules."

"You scratch our back, we'll scratch yours."

"Don't think that's the case, darlin'," he replied, and he even cracked a smile. That was the first time he had given you a genuine smile that wasn't a fake or mean laugh of some sorts.

You put one foot up onto the cart and began pushing with the other so you could ride with it. The weight of the many flowers kept the whole thing from tipping over with you. Behind you, Luke muttered a "Jesus" under his breath, but he laughed anyway.

"You do it, too, Gumby." You nodded towards his own cart – also full of flowers. It was most likely time to start loading the car before coming back for more. "Make fun of this escapade."

He simply shook his head as he unbuttoned his flannel one or two times. "There's nothing fun about this escapade. I wouldn't even call it an escapade. And, dunno if ridin' a damn cart like a four-year-old will make it any better."

You shrugged again. "Not with that attitude." You were kind of surprised with how well you and Luke got along, despite the fact that it appeared you two disliked each other strongly. Truthfully, you were starting to like bantering with him, and you could tell he was lying about not having fun. At least you were having fun. "Hey, can I ask ya somethin'?" You sped down an aisle, kicking the concrete as if you were riding a scooter.

Luke trailed slowly behind you as he said, "you just did."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, stupid. Whatever. Why were you and your friends in our yard anyway? Why did you think we had weed?"

"Someone pranked us, I think," he answered and pulled his cart up next to you. "Need geraniums?"

"Yes, thank you." You eyed the many colors and began picking the pots up one-by-one.

"Mhm."

"Pranked you?" you asked, picking up a pot of lavender-colored geraniums and putting them into your very full cart. "How so?"

Luke let out a cough. It sounded like he was clearing his throat, but it came out much louder than he probably suspected. "We were tryin' to find some at this party because my friend Cal's dealer didn't show, and this one dude gave us the address to your house because he said the owner's – you and your mum – grew some. Think he just knew you both loved gardening 'n shit. I do feel terrible."

"'s quite a story," you said. "Ya looked fucking guilty last night, so I get you're sorry. Sorry you have to endure all of this with me."

He chuckled softly. "You're all right, I guess. I just don't know shit about gardening."

You set one last geranium into your cart and turned to Luke with a great big grin. "I'm the garden guru, sweetie. Just wait, by the end of this summer, you'll know everything there is to know about gardening."

"Again, don't call me sweetie."

You sent him a wink. "Let's get ready for round two, sweetie. Time to buy some bulbs."

The first week went better than you had imagined it to. Luke finally knew how to dress appropriate for gardening and hot weather, and the two of you no longer sent each other glares when the other said something wrong. At least, by this point, you both knew what not to say.

You were glad a portion of the garden had been salvageable. Some of the perennials were still a-okay, so you didn't have to buy as many bulbs as you did with buying pots of annuals. However, you did have to buy a shit ton of soil because your mother insisted that the other was soiled. She joked about it, but you were somewhat annoyed because that was more work than needed.

So, the garden was looking... better.

Luke could only work in the mornings due to his actual job in the afternoon, which meant that not a lot would get done. On the days he was late, his presence felt pointless. It took over a week to actually get one thing planted. He and his friends had unrooted nearly everything (aside from that one portion), plus the greenhouse was a fucking disaster.

As a token of your mother's gratitude, she offered you up to make Luke lunch on the days he was working. While you weren't happy about it, you did it nevertheless. He hadn't put up a fight since the proposal was offered the night he trespassed. His attitude surely sucked sometimes, but he did want to make it up to the both of you. The least you could do was feed him.

He met your dog Bubbles on a Tuesday. Your dog was nervous around people, so it was a slow introduction that ended in Luke being attacked with kisses. It shocked you at first. In all of your years of owning Bubbles, he had never once been fond of any of your friends. You hoped he liked Luke solely because you weren't friends.

"Why do you have animal crackers?" he asked on a Friday morning. It had been two weeks since he began helping to fix the garden. A lot of things had been planted, and the next plan was to figure out where to get replica items for your mother's old fairy garden. "And, what are Whales?" Luke tossed you the box of Cheez-It's you had asked him to reach for you since he was standing, and the food was in the top cupboard. "Why do you need these many crackers?"

"Stop being mean," you whined with a pout. "Those are the frosted animal crackers, and they're good. And, you have to try Whales. They're like better Cheez-It's."

"Then why are you eating Cheez-It's?"

"Shut it, Gumby."

Luke mocked your tone with incoherent words but he still opened the box of Whales. You watched as he took a few in his mouth, and you waited for his reaction after he finished chewing.

He hummed. "Not bad. Not better than the white cheddar Cheez-It's though."

"Oh no," you gasped. "You like white cheddar? Have fun in jail."

"Ha-ha." Luke turned to the fridge, but before he opened it, he examined the magnets and pictures on the front. "Is this you?"

"Hm?"

He held up the picture of a little girl – you – holding up two lollipops with a cute grin on your face. You were always told that you wore your happiness well as a child. You had been so excited to win lollies in school that your mother actually kept the picture.

"I won a spelling bee," you said. "Got two lollipops as a reward."

"Huh, cool."

"The final word was knives," you chuckled. "I don't know why I remember that, but I also remember feeling confused as to why the other kid didn't know how to spell it."

Luke set the picture back under a magnet and opened the fridge. "You were cute," he said as he pulled out a yogurt. "Can I have this?"

You nodded. "Did you just compliment me, Gumby?" You pretended to be shocked, even faked a gasp, but you actually were kind of surprised he had said that.

"I said were, darlin'," he replied with a smirk. "Why would I compliment someone who calls me Gumby?"

"It's endearing."

"Not one bit, Pokey."

You let out another gasp, except this time, this one was as real as climate change (which is very, very real). "I'm your Pokey? I'm so honored."

Luke rolled his eyes as he peeled the film lid off of the yogurt. He didn't reply, but he smiled. To you, that said enough.

You started noticing your feelings right when the two of you were finishing up planting. The garden wasn't flourishing as of yet, but for the most part, the dirty work had been done. Now, all Luke had to do was visit in the mornings to water. You honestly believed that he enjoyed this work now. He no longer complained, nor did he whine or groan when he had to bend over. He even stayed longer into the afternoon even though you were positive he had another job.

He laughed at your jokes. Your dry, corny humor couldn't please a child, but he laughed, and it felt genuine. His eyes would crinkle, and the harder the laugh, the higher the pitch. It made your heart swell. It was because of his laughter that you were able to recognize the feelings it gave you. And, it sucked.

Most of all, it sucked because your mother was right.

You were falling for the stupid felon.

"Did you ever tell your friends off for leaving you that night?" you asked. You were nibbling on a granola bar while Luke was turning on the hose. "If my friends did that to me, I'd probably– "

"No," he said sharply. He began watering right away, his hand tight against the handle of the spray nozzle he had been forced to purchase. Somehow, someone had snapped the handle on the old one the night of the trespassing. "'m not very good at talking to people about stuff that upsets me."

"Does that upset you?"

"What, that I can't talk to people about what they did wrong?" he questioned.

You nodded.

Luke shrugged as he wandered over to the bushes by the fence. "I guess."

"Well, there ya go!" you exclaimed. You set down the granola bar wrapper on the table nearby, and afterward, you nearly tripped on his glorious stonework on your way over to him. "'s solved. Now you can address it."

He sent you a playful glare, and you could tell it was playful because of the small smirk that had adorned his face. He had a beautiful smile, you had to admit. It was accompanied by a damn good pair of lips as well. You especially liked making him smile.

"'m not good at anything, really," he mumbled. "Singing... I guess. Shit at gardening and shit at feelings."

"Okay, first of all," you started, "you were shit at gardening. You had me so you're pretty damn good now, I would say. I can officially give myself a pat on the back for that one." You were beaming. Talking to him made you happier than you wanted it to.

Luke pushed his curls back from his forehead, giving you a perfect glance at his ring-clad fingers. He even had his nails painted a dull red. The color had started to chip, but it suited him nonetheless. "You givin' me a compliment?"

"Oh, no," you said, shaking your head. "I'm giving myself a compliment."

Luke shook his own head as he started to cackle quietly. Suddenly, he had the hose turned on you, and you began to shriek as his laughter became the cute squealy laughter that made your insides burn.

"Fuck, fuck!" You started to run around, but Luke was hot on your tail as he changed the settings on the nozzle. What had been the shower setting was now the jet setting, and you were being pelted. "Ow, you dummy!"

His giggles only got louder as he hit you with the cone setting, and at least the water on that one hurt less than the fucking jet. "Slow down!" he shouted after you. "I've missed a spot on your ass." He cornered you by the greenhouse, and just as he thought he had gotten you good, you were able to grab the hose from his slippery grip. Luckily, the hose was long enough to reach this far back in the yard.

"Payback, bitch," you said with a grin as you sprayed him. You expected him to run away as you had done, but instead, he stepped closer to you.

His laughter died down only slightly, yet you hardly noticed the change before he closed the space between the two of you. The water hit him directly in the stomach as his hand found the back of your neck to pull you into him. Your lips met in a sloppy yet comforting kiss, the kind of first kiss that people talked about for years. It was like kissing in the rain, but also completely different at the same time.

He pulled away almost as fast as he had initiated the kiss. His hair was hanging in his eyes, the strands dripping wet as he wiped the water off of his nose. That only caused you to aim the water at his face as another fit of giggles erupted through your body.

"Gonna fuckin' get you for this," he muttered, taking you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder.

"No, no, no!" you shrieked, hitting his back and spraying his butt with the jet setting.

"Hey, that's inappropriate," he whispered into your ear.

You lifted the hose again, hitting him in the face once more. "Eat my butt, Gumby."

You did not mind falling for the felon one bit.

You saw Luke less after that. It was partially due to the fact that the garden had been finished, and all he needed to do was stop by and water them. But, he never stayed to talk. This not only crushed you but made you resent letting yourself open up in the first place. The steady banter had been comfortable, and you should have kept it that way. You let yourself fall for someone who wasn't ready for anything in the first place.

You wanted to believe that you spoke too soon the day he pecked your lips goodbye. He made sure to wink and wave on his way out, yet somehow, your heart fell deep into your chest. Someone who didn't want to give you everything wasn't worth your time. Luke said had a tendency to avoid talking about things that upset him, but you weren't going to let yourself do the same.

"Hey, Gumby," you said, your tone a little too harsh as you approached him one morning.

He had taken his shirt off due to the incredulous heat index of the day, and it was only ten in the morning. He turned as soon as he heard your voice. "Hm?"

"Do you have feelings for me?" you questioned. You weren't going to sugarcoat anything. You wanted the answers as straightforward as possible.

Luke released his grip on the handle of the nozzle. "What?" His eyes had widened slightly, and if he hadn't already been red due to the heat, you would have assumed the question made him blush.

"Do you like me? Are you into me? Would you fuck me? Just let me know."

He blinked rapidly. "Why are you asking all of this?"

You shrugged, but you knew why you were asking all of this. You let out a laugh before you continued. "Because you fucking kissed me, you dumbfuck. You kissed me twice, and that was it! You've hardly talked to me since. Were you just doing it because you knew I liked you? Or do you actually fucking like me back?"

Luke dropped the hose and ambled towards you, his long legs taking him to you in under a second. Both of his hands grabbed hold of your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss grew heated in a matter of milliseconds. His tongue slipped in between your lips before you could register what had even happened. You felt warm all over, and it wasn't because of the hot air.

His lips left yours a moment later, slipping away with a filthy pop before he began kissing along your cheeks and forehead.

"What does this mean?" you whispered lowly and gripped his wrists loosely.

Luke retracted, looking right into your eyes so he could say exactly what he wanted. "It means I like you back," he responded. He swallowed thickly and pressed another quick kiss to your lips. "And, I'm bad at feelings," he whispered, "so I'm sorry I did that to you. 'm really sorry."

His hands found your waist as he started kissing you again. You wound your fingers in his long blond curls, not even worrying about how sweaty they might be. You couldn't find it in yourself to worry about anything but how well you were kissing him. Your lips were numb as he pulled away again, and you found yourself glancing down at his exposed chest so you wouldn't have to look into his eyes.

You were too giddy, but looking at the hairs on his chest was not helping your case one bit.

Suddenly, Luke was bending over and reaching for the hose, quickly turning it back on and spraying you like had done a week or two prior. His loud giggles filled the air, and even though you were screaming for dear life, you had never felt happier.

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