Plunge
Picnics (part 1)
~Cassidy~
Come outside.
I gazed down at the text, and gulped for a reason I didn’t know. Why the fuck was I suddenly so nervous around him? It was weird, like he could easily change me with a flick of his fingers. I really was bipolar.
I looked back up at him, only to find that he was wearing a knowing smile. God, he was beautiful. Was it possible that my feelings for him ran just a tiny bit deeper than what I perceived them to be?
No, it’s not possible.
I mentally groaned. Right when I thought that annoying-as-fuck, nagging voice had finally left me alone, she just had to show up again and ruin everything. I’d finally thought I was at peace, accepting the fact that I liked Harry, but now she was back, trying to convince me that I had no further feelings for him.
It fucking sucked.
I nodded my head warily before turning away, stuffing my cell in my pocket, trying to keep myself from sprinting downstairs and out the door. I was careful to take my time, not wanting to seem too desperate or too eager to see him, but quicker than I would’ve liked, I found myself at my main entrance. Slowly—very slowly—I slipped on my black Converse and opened the door, sauntering out into the night.
It was dark, and I could almost taste the humidity outside, wrinkling my nose. I could tell a night full of rain was ahead—probably filled with thunder—but I didn’t know when it would exactly strike.
After observing the scenery I looked around, only to find that Harry wasn’t there yet. I padded down my steps, sitting down on the top lightly, when suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard, “Boo.”
My head whipped to the side, a small gasp falling from my parted lips. He was standing there, hiding behind the side of my porch, his arms crossed, and a smug smirk adorning his face.
My hand flew to my forehead, and I stood, making my way over to him and punching him in the chest—hard.
“What the fuck?” I told him, but I wasn’t angry, “Don’t do that!”
He laughed, taking a step back and rubbing the space between his pectoral muscles. My eyes drifted down to where he’d dislodged the fabric of his shirt, revealing a bit more ink and skin. I swallowed quickly and looked back up, afraid he’d catch me staring.
But he himself seemed just as dazed, drinking me in hungrily. His eyes shamelessly raked down my body, and I fought to keep my arms at my sides. I wore white denim shorts, and a black ruffled tank top, and my black Converse—of course. My hair was hanging in a ponytail, a few wisps falling out, which I securely tucked behind my ear.
“What’s up?” I asked, not wanting him to stare at me like I was dinner anymore.
“Hmm?” his eyebrows rose but then he snapped out of his trance, “Oh—right. Well, erm,” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly; “I’m taking you out…on—on a date.”
My eyes visibly widened, and for a moment, I thought I’d heard him wrong. A date? No, he wasn’t.
“A date,” I repeated slowly, trying to get my mind to process it. He grinned at me, “Yeah. I figured I should, since you’re my girl.”
My girl.
The words sounded so good rolling off his tongue. I wanted to tease him though, so I crossed my arms over my chest as tried to maintain a poker face, saying, “I didn’t agree to a date.”
His eyes immediately flickered away from me, as though he was figuring out how to get out of this now. I was laughing inside; he looked like a deer caught in headlights, like he didn’t want to say or do the wrong things and ruin—whatever was going on here.
No, you’re his girlfriend now. Get used to it.
Right.
I realised that he was still fumbling, so I just laughed, unable to contain it any longer.
Without another word, I took a step forward and gripped his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him. I guess it shocked the both of us; I never initiated the contact before, but I didn’t mind it all that much. I liked kissing him; it felt nice.
He was surprised for a moment, completely still, before deciding not to question it. His lips began moving with mine, his hands cupping my face lightly, and we just stood there, kissing in the dim lighting of my front lights. Butterflies erupted in my stomach again, that same jittery feeling that made me think that I could run a marathon.
After a moment more, I pulled back, detaching our lips. He looked somewhat disappointed, making me laugh again, stepping back.
We just stared at each other for a few moments until his eyes widened, and he said, “Oh.”
He bent down, reaching for something on the ground, and picked it up. I watched, and as he was standing straightly again, he held out a single calla lily to me. I reached for it slowly, my lips parting in surprise. Nobody had ever given me flowers before.
He looked a bit nervous, like he was expecting me to be disappointed or something—probably because it was only a single plant. Truth be told, I liked it even better—I didn’t want to have to lug around a bouquet.
I brought the flower to my chest and smiled up at him, “Thank you.”
“Freshly picked straight from Mrs. Jansen’s garden,” he smiled proudly at me. I punched him in the chest again, and he feigned hurt.
“You didn’t!” I gasped, and he laughed.
“I did.”
I joined him in his laughter, pushing a wisp of hair away from my eyes and gripping the calla lily tightly. I turned around, running back up my porch steps, and I set the flower down on the mat in front of my door. I’d bring it inside once we came back.
“Where is this date taking place?” I questioned; running back down the stairs, unable to keep the smile off of my face.
“It’s a surprise,” he grinned at me. I groaned, “I hate surprises.”
“I kind of figured you would,” he snickered at me and then without another word grabbed my forearm, tugging me close to him. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he simply turned me around so that my back was pressed to his front. I was disappointed and excited at the exact same time.
One of his hands came to cover my eyes, the other cupping my waist, fitting around the curve perfectly. I cleared my throat, “You’re not going to drag me to some secluded area and kill me, are you?”
I simply heard him chuckle, and he leaned down, his breath flowing down the column of my throat, making hot tingles dance along my spine, “If I wanted to, I already would’ve.”
I snorted as he pressed a kiss to the spot parallel with my earlobe, and my eyes fluttered closed under his hand. Damn sweet spot.
“Come on,” he said, and he prodded me forward, guiding me along. My feet moved, my other senses sharpening. We were going straight, forward to where the road was. Now we were turning to the right…where was he taking me? It was so close that we could walk? No vehicle necessary?
There were no more turns after that. We just kept going straight. I cleared my throat, “Can I get a few hints, please?”
“You really hate not knowing things, don’t you?” he questioned; I had a feeling that he was smiling. I nodded vigorously, trying subtly to shake his hand off of my face, but he must’ve realised what I was doing, because he just chuckled, not giving me a single glance.
“Uh-uh,” he scolded, chuckling lowly. I made a faux-exasperated sound, rolling my eyes under his hand.
“Okay,” he sounded like he was thinking, “We’ve been here together before. There. That’s all I’m telling you.”
I stomped my foot, making a whining noise, “Come on! That’s nothing!”
He simply laughed, shushing me, “Nope, that’s it. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I sighed dramatically, and we continued walking in silence. Every two minutes or so, he’d whisper comforting things in my ear, telling me we were almost there, that he thought I would like it, and more.
“Close,” he mumbled, seemingly more to him than to me. I scoffed dramatically, momentarily letting my concentration waver—and I stumbled.
I fell forward, but he caught me quickly, his free arm wrapping tightly around my stomach, his hand stroking my opposite hip. I caught my breath for a moment, willing my racing pulse to soften and slow, but his breath was so close—tickling my neck and sending shivers down my spine. My mouth parted lightly, loving the way we stood right now.
“You should really be more careful,” he murmured into my ear, causing a small laugh to bubble up in my throat and flop out of my mouth as we commenced walking again, “Right. Because it’s my fault.”
“It is,” he agreed—I could almost hear him smiling—and then his hand around my stomach tightened, alerting me to stop, “We’re here.”
I held my breath as he removed his hand from my eyes. For a second, I blinked rapidly, noting light even though it was dark out. When I could see clearly again, my eyes processed that we were at the park. That same park we’d been before. Huh, so his hint had actually been legitimate.
Only a few feet in front of us was a small blanket laid out with a tiny candle in the middle. There was a small basket next to it, a few utensils already put out, lying next to two cups on either side. It was actually really sweet, and I found myself growing all happy, but—determined to downplay it—I simply whistled, my eyes wide.
“Wow.”
He chuckled, reaching for my hand and guiding us both to sit down on the blanket. He began taking out a few Tupperware containers from the basket, revealing small desserts and
delicacies: a container full of truffles, pieces of blueberry pie, pieces of chocolate cake, and a rather large box of chocolate covered strawberries.
“Holy fuck,” I marvelled, making him laugh. I looked up at him, “How did you know that I liked chocolate over vanilla?”
He grinned and shrugged, setting each small rubber box down, “Who doesn’t like chocolate over vanilla?”
I laughed, “Very true.”
I smiled as I reached down, wrapping my fingers around a plastic fork and extending my arm, swiftly stabbing a piece of chocolate cake and bringing it back up to meet my watering mouth. I hummed in appreciation as the dessert disappeared past my lips, closing my eyes as I brush hair away from my forehead.
When I opened them again, I saw Harry biting his lip, staring at me intently, an emotion that I couldn’t distinguish present in his eyes, making them glint with something I could only assumed to be hunger.
Hunger for food, obviously.
“You going to have some?” I questioned, waving my fork around in the air, and he blinked, seeming to snap out of it, because he just smiled and picked up his own fork, biting into a piece of blueberry pie.
“Mm, I love blueberries,” he told me, and I couldn’t help but to swoon at the way he pronounced ‘blueberries’. It sounded like bluebrees.
He was so attractive; it actually made my chest ache. I nodded, this time reaching for a piece of pie and tasting it, proceeding to lick my lips free of any essence of blueberry, agreeing with him, “You’re right. They’re tasty.”
He smiled at me before I asked him about his friends—the ones that were visiting—and the rest of the conversation just took off after that. He told me about how they’d all known each other for a long time—about four and a half years—and how they were in a band. They didn’t do much, just travel around to clubs in England and play, nothing too major. I’d poke fun at him, declaring that I wasn’t into the whole boy band thing.
“We’re the farthest thing from a boy band, I’ll have you know,” he protested, and I laughed.
He smiled at me before standing suddenly, holding his hands out to me. I took them as he said, “Want to play at the park?”
“You are a very childish man, Harry Styles,” I noted, sighing as he pulled me up.
Come outside.
I gazed down at the text, and gulped for a reason I didn’t know. Why the fuck was I suddenly so nervous around him? It was weird, like he could easily change me with a flick of his fingers. I really was bipolar.
I looked back up at him, only to find that he was wearing a knowing smile. God, he was beautiful. Was it possible that my feelings for him ran just a tiny bit deeper than what I perceived them to be?
No, it’s not possible.
I mentally groaned. Right when I thought that annoying-as-fuck, nagging voice had finally left me alone, she just had to show up again and ruin everything. I’d finally thought I was at peace, accepting the fact that I liked Harry, but now she was back, trying to convince me that I had no further feelings for him.
It fucking sucked.
I nodded my head warily before turning away, stuffing my cell in my pocket, trying to keep myself from sprinting downstairs and out the door. I was careful to take my time, not wanting to seem too desperate or too eager to see him, but quicker than I would’ve liked, I found myself at my main entrance. Slowly—very slowly—I slipped on my black Converse and opened the door, sauntering out into the night.
It was dark, and I could almost taste the humidity outside, wrinkling my nose. I could tell a night full of rain was ahead—probably filled with thunder—but I didn’t know when it would exactly strike.
After observing the scenery I looked around, only to find that Harry wasn’t there yet. I padded down my steps, sitting down on the top lightly, when suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard, “Boo.”
My head whipped to the side, a small gasp falling from my parted lips. He was standing there, hiding behind the side of my porch, his arms crossed, and a smug smirk adorning his face.
My hand flew to my forehead, and I stood, making my way over to him and punching him in the chest—hard.
“What the fuck?” I told him, but I wasn’t angry, “Don’t do that!”
He laughed, taking a step back and rubbing the space between his pectoral muscles. My eyes drifted down to where he’d dislodged the fabric of his shirt, revealing a bit more ink and skin. I swallowed quickly and looked back up, afraid he’d catch me staring.
But he himself seemed just as dazed, drinking me in hungrily. His eyes shamelessly raked down my body, and I fought to keep my arms at my sides. I wore white denim shorts, and a black ruffled tank top, and my black Converse—of course. My hair was hanging in a ponytail, a few wisps falling out, which I securely tucked behind my ear.
“What’s up?” I asked, not wanting him to stare at me like I was dinner anymore.
“Hmm?” his eyebrows rose but then he snapped out of his trance, “Oh—right. Well, erm,” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly; “I’m taking you out…on—on a date.”
My eyes visibly widened, and for a moment, I thought I’d heard him wrong. A date? No, he wasn’t.
“A date,” I repeated slowly, trying to get my mind to process it. He grinned at me, “Yeah. I figured I should, since you’re my girl.”
My girl.
The words sounded so good rolling off his tongue. I wanted to tease him though, so I crossed my arms over my chest as tried to maintain a poker face, saying, “I didn’t agree to a date.”
His eyes immediately flickered away from me, as though he was figuring out how to get out of this now. I was laughing inside; he looked like a deer caught in headlights, like he didn’t want to say or do the wrong things and ruin—whatever was going on here.
No, you’re his girlfriend now. Get used to it.
Right.
I realised that he was still fumbling, so I just laughed, unable to contain it any longer.
Without another word, I took a step forward and gripped his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him. I guess it shocked the both of us; I never initiated the contact before, but I didn’t mind it all that much. I liked kissing him; it felt nice.
He was surprised for a moment, completely still, before deciding not to question it. His lips began moving with mine, his hands cupping my face lightly, and we just stood there, kissing in the dim lighting of my front lights. Butterflies erupted in my stomach again, that same jittery feeling that made me think that I could run a marathon.
After a moment more, I pulled back, detaching our lips. He looked somewhat disappointed, making me laugh again, stepping back.
We just stared at each other for a few moments until his eyes widened, and he said, “Oh.”
He bent down, reaching for something on the ground, and picked it up. I watched, and as he was standing straightly again, he held out a single calla lily to me. I reached for it slowly, my lips parting in surprise. Nobody had ever given me flowers before.
He looked a bit nervous, like he was expecting me to be disappointed or something—probably because it was only a single plant. Truth be told, I liked it even better—I didn’t want to have to lug around a bouquet.
I brought the flower to my chest and smiled up at him, “Thank you.”
“Freshly picked straight from Mrs. Jansen’s garden,” he smiled proudly at me. I punched him in the chest again, and he feigned hurt.
“You didn’t!” I gasped, and he laughed.
“I did.”
I joined him in his laughter, pushing a wisp of hair away from my eyes and gripping the calla lily tightly. I turned around, running back up my porch steps, and I set the flower down on the mat in front of my door. I’d bring it inside once we came back.
“Where is this date taking place?” I questioned; running back down the stairs, unable to keep the smile off of my face.
“It’s a surprise,” he grinned at me. I groaned, “I hate surprises.”
“I kind of figured you would,” he snickered at me and then without another word grabbed my forearm, tugging me close to him. I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he simply turned me around so that my back was pressed to his front. I was disappointed and excited at the exact same time.
One of his hands came to cover my eyes, the other cupping my waist, fitting around the curve perfectly. I cleared my throat, “You’re not going to drag me to some secluded area and kill me, are you?”
I simply heard him chuckle, and he leaned down, his breath flowing down the column of my throat, making hot tingles dance along my spine, “If I wanted to, I already would’ve.”
I snorted as he pressed a kiss to the spot parallel with my earlobe, and my eyes fluttered closed under his hand. Damn sweet spot.
“Come on,” he said, and he prodded me forward, guiding me along. My feet moved, my other senses sharpening. We were going straight, forward to where the road was. Now we were turning to the right…where was he taking me? It was so close that we could walk? No vehicle necessary?
There were no more turns after that. We just kept going straight. I cleared my throat, “Can I get a few hints, please?”
“You really hate not knowing things, don’t you?” he questioned; I had a feeling that he was smiling. I nodded vigorously, trying subtly to shake his hand off of my face, but he must’ve realised what I was doing, because he just chuckled, not giving me a single glance.
“Uh-uh,” he scolded, chuckling lowly. I made a faux-exasperated sound, rolling my eyes under his hand.
“Okay,” he sounded like he was thinking, “We’ve been here together before. There. That’s all I’m telling you.”
I stomped my foot, making a whining noise, “Come on! That’s nothing!”
He simply laughed, shushing me, “Nope, that’s it. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I sighed dramatically, and we continued walking in silence. Every two minutes or so, he’d whisper comforting things in my ear, telling me we were almost there, that he thought I would like it, and more.
“Close,” he mumbled, seemingly more to him than to me. I scoffed dramatically, momentarily letting my concentration waver—and I stumbled.
I fell forward, but he caught me quickly, his free arm wrapping tightly around my stomach, his hand stroking my opposite hip. I caught my breath for a moment, willing my racing pulse to soften and slow, but his breath was so close—tickling my neck and sending shivers down my spine. My mouth parted lightly, loving the way we stood right now.
“You should really be more careful,” he murmured into my ear, causing a small laugh to bubble up in my throat and flop out of my mouth as we commenced walking again, “Right. Because it’s my fault.”
“It is,” he agreed—I could almost hear him smiling—and then his hand around my stomach tightened, alerting me to stop, “We’re here.”
I held my breath as he removed his hand from my eyes. For a second, I blinked rapidly, noting light even though it was dark out. When I could see clearly again, my eyes processed that we were at the park. That same park we’d been before. Huh, so his hint had actually been legitimate.
Only a few feet in front of us was a small blanket laid out with a tiny candle in the middle. There was a small basket next to it, a few utensils already put out, lying next to two cups on either side. It was actually really sweet, and I found myself growing all happy, but—determined to downplay it—I simply whistled, my eyes wide.
“Wow.”
He chuckled, reaching for my hand and guiding us both to sit down on the blanket. He began taking out a few Tupperware containers from the basket, revealing small desserts and
delicacies: a container full of truffles, pieces of blueberry pie, pieces of chocolate cake, and a rather large box of chocolate covered strawberries.
“Holy fuck,” I marvelled, making him laugh. I looked up at him, “How did you know that I liked chocolate over vanilla?”
He grinned and shrugged, setting each small rubber box down, “Who doesn’t like chocolate over vanilla?”
I laughed, “Very true.”
I smiled as I reached down, wrapping my fingers around a plastic fork and extending my arm, swiftly stabbing a piece of chocolate cake and bringing it back up to meet my watering mouth. I hummed in appreciation as the dessert disappeared past my lips, closing my eyes as I brush hair away from my forehead.
When I opened them again, I saw Harry biting his lip, staring at me intently, an emotion that I couldn’t distinguish present in his eyes, making them glint with something I could only assumed to be hunger.
Hunger for food, obviously.
“You going to have some?” I questioned, waving my fork around in the air, and he blinked, seeming to snap out of it, because he just smiled and picked up his own fork, biting into a piece of blueberry pie.
“Mm, I love blueberries,” he told me, and I couldn’t help but to swoon at the way he pronounced ‘blueberries’. It sounded like bluebrees.
He was so attractive; it actually made my chest ache. I nodded, this time reaching for a piece of pie and tasting it, proceeding to lick my lips free of any essence of blueberry, agreeing with him, “You’re right. They’re tasty.”
He smiled at me before I asked him about his friends—the ones that were visiting—and the rest of the conversation just took off after that. He told me about how they’d all known each other for a long time—about four and a half years—and how they were in a band. They didn’t do much, just travel around to clubs in England and play, nothing too major. I’d poke fun at him, declaring that I wasn’t into the whole boy band thing.
“We’re the farthest thing from a boy band, I’ll have you know,” he protested, and I laughed.
He smiled at me before standing suddenly, holding his hands out to me. I took them as he said, “Want to play at the park?”
“You are a very childish man, Harry Styles,” I noted, sighing as he pulled me up.
Notes
I loved writing this chapter for some reason! I've already started on part 2, but school is hectic for me right now, guys! I'm sorry! Hopefully I'll be able to update in a week, maybe longer? Please bear with me!Until then, COMMENT, VOTE and SUBSCRIBE! Let me know what you thought of this chapter! And can we PLEASE reach 100+ votes? I would literally be doing a happy dance!
And oh my fucking God! Guys, 5sauce just won an award at the AMA's, I'm like, crying, they're all so beautiful, and just...Lucas...I'm dead. I legit can't holy shit he's so goddamn beautiful, like why?
Random fact: Jackals have one more pair of chromosomes than dogs or wolves.
~Y'all are the best~
I haven't forgotten about this story. Please update soon!!
10/25/15