Riley Matthews has high hopes for junior year.
It's definitely been harsher than she anticipated, with difficult classes and more interpersonal drama than she'd care to deal with amongst her closest friends. Only halfway through first semester, she's already feeling the pressure of midterms and social stress and focusing on just getting through each day one at a time.
She can tell it's not just her, because her friends are feeling the effects of the school year too. She's barely seen much of Farkle since the school year really kicked off and he went to keep an eye on Maya. She can't remember the last time she had a conversation with Zay. Smackle is probably the most consistent friend she has at this point, and even she has her own school work to contend with.
Lucas Friar, on the other hand, she makes a concentrated effort to keep up with.
His course load is even crazier than hers, and she can tell he's not having the easiest time keeping track of it all. Even still, he always has time to spare for her. Riley tries to spend some time with him at least twice a week, three days if she's lucky, and they always have their date night on the weekends.
Even if they're exhausted and overworked and stressed out, they find the time for each other. She figures it's for the best, because he's one of the few people who makes her feel relaxed.
The exhaustion is a factor, however, and it's the main reason that half the time they do spend together is spent catching up on sleep. Sometimes the napping is very much intentional, the two of them coming back to her apartment to collapse and knock for a couple hours without any other plans. Other times, it's incidental, the two of them intending to study or watch a movie before inevitably dozing off.
She can't count the amount of times her father has stormed in without knocking, likely thinking he's going to catch them doing something nefarious. Instead, he's greeted by a snoozing Lucas and a very groggy Riley, who's only awake enough to shoot him an annoyed glare until he shuts the door with an apologetic wave of surrender.
Lucas is usually the one to drift off first, but Riley never complains. She simply closes the laptop or textbook and places it securely on the carpet, readjusting both of them to rest more comfortably. If he needs the rest, she's certainly not going to take it from him—and besides, she'd be lying if she claimed she didn't like falling asleep next to him. It's something she's becoming very comfortable with and very accustomed to—a constant rather than a special occasion.
It comes second only to waking up next to him. She think she likes that best.
She likes how settled the room feels when they're both just rousing themselves from sleep. She likes how soft their voices are. She likes how gentle their touch is. She likes how the entire world has continued to spin without the two of them for the past couple hours, and they're still together, doing what they do.
"I just want it to be spring," Lucas admits in a murmur, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He focuses on their hands, pressing their fingertips together. "I feel like once baseball starts things will pick up. Like, I won't be so bogged down with school work because I'll have other stuff going on."
Riley smiles at him, nuzzling her head against his shoulder and linking their fingers instead. "Me too. Not the baseball, obviously, but spring. There is going to be so much fun stuff in second semester."
"Yep. Finals. AP exams. Starting to look at colleges. Fun stuff."
"Alright, negative Nelly," she says with an eye roll, smirking when he laughs at her expression. She sits up on her elbow, leaning forward to give him a peck on the lips. "I mean it, though. Think about all the good stuff coming up. I've got the musical, you've got baseball. Classes ending, junior prom—,"
"Oh, that reminds me," Lucas mutters, sitting up suddenly. Riley pushes off of him just in time to avoid being knocked over.
She shifts into sitting up as well while Lucas tosses the covers off of him, rounding the front of the bed and leaning over to grab his backpack. Riley gives him an intrigued look. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," he says off-handedly, kneeling down and going through his book bag. "Just don't want to forget. Or chicken out. Because I'm probably likely to do one or the other."
"Chicken out of what?" She frowns out at him, crossing her legs and watching him curiously. "What are you talking about?"
He glances up to lock eyes with her, waving off her look of concern. "Don't look so worried. This is a good thing, I promise."
Lucas switches to searching the front pocket of his backpack, making a small noise of exclamation when he finds what he's looking for. He raises his eyebrows at Riley and gives her a smile, hiding the object behind his back and settling back onto the bed across from her.
"So you know how we agreed we could just go to dances together without asking each other?"
"Yes," she says uncertainly, unable to hold back the smile that forms on her lips from the twinkle in his eyes. She squints slightly, trying to get a read on the situation. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well, you know, this is going to be our first year going to one. Like, a real one, because we know homecoming is a mess. And even though we agreed we didn't need to ask, I still wanted to do something. But I didn't want to do the whole big public poster thing because that felt sort of disingenuous. You know, that's like, what people do who don't really know each other. I just felt like we were past that, that you deserved something more than that." He pauses, meeting her eyes nervously. "You know, unless you wanted something like that. I could make it work."
Riley doesn't think she could ever meet someone else nearly as adorable as him. She tilts her head, giving him a reassuring smile and reaching forward to squeeze his knee. "Anything you do is fine with me."
Lucas smiles bashfully, nodding and removing his hand from behind his back. He turns over the small object in his fingers, holding it in the palm of his hand and tilting it for her to see.
It's a flower—only not exactly. It's a replica of one, a rose carved out of what looks like wood. From the careful way he's holding it, Riley can tell it's delicate. From the amount of detail put it into it, she can tell it's probably not cheap. Although the sun setting outside the bay window paints everything in the room a little bit gold, the petals of the rose are very clearly tinted lilac purple.
A purple rose. Her favorite kind of flower.
Riley bites her lip, raising her eyebrows at it before lifting her gaze to meet his. "What's this?"
"I know, it seems totally weird," he says quickly. He drops his eyes down to the rose, twirling the stem of it between his fingers anxiously. "I never really got the point of it either. Pappy Joe gave one to my grandma when they were young. She used to keep it on her bedside table, and it was like the one thing she wouldn't let me touch." He hesitates, smiling sheepishly. "Makes sense, cause I tended to break stuff back then. On accident, of course."
"Oh, of course."
He narrows his eyes at her teasing tone, clearing his throat and focusing back on the flower. "But yeah, he gave one like this to her and she was obsessed with it. I thought it was like the stupidest thing in the world. You know, why give someone a flower that isn't even a flower? It doesn't smell like anything. It's made of wood. What's the point?"
All things considered, Riley is pretty sure she could spend the rest of her life just listening to him talk. Committing the cadences of his voice to memory, admiring the way his eyes sparkle, noticing the endearing way he licks his lips when he's getting his thoughts together. Whether his tone is smooth with the confidence of a phrase well-thought out, or shy with apprehension, or raspy from sleep, his voice is always music to her ears. It's a symphony, and she loves every part of it.
"But then I came here. Then I met you. And you know, people change people, as the story goes, etc. And like, it was like all the sudden I started to figure out all these things that had never really made sense to me, and this was one of them. Why would Pappy Joe get my grandma a wooden rose? Well, why wouldn't he? It makes perfect sense to me."
Riley cocks her head, knowing very well she probably looks very lovesick. With him, she doesn't exactly know how else to look. "And why is that?"
"Most flowers, with proper care and attention, last a week or so. Two weeks, if you're lucky." Lucas stares down at the rose before locking eyes with her, giving her an affectionate smile. "This flower, with proper care and attention… well, it can last forever."
He hesitates for a moment until he gathers up the courage to offer it to her, holding it out towards her. Riley reaches forward and takes the stem in her fingers, hand brushing against his as she examines it.
"Riley Matthews," he says shyly, smiling in spite of himself. "Will you go to prom with me?"
It feels like a lot more than prom. It sort of feels like everything in the world is encompassed in this delicate piece of wood—the kind of flower that can last forever.
Lucas can understand why Pappy Joe would give his grandma one, and Riley has no trouble understanding why she would take such good care of it. It may just be a hunk of wood, but it's what it symbolizes that means everything. It reminds her of the conversation the two of them have had before—objects are just objects, but who gives them to you can make all the difference.
If the right person gives it to you, then it's gold.
"Yes, I will." Riley accepts the rose fully, rolling it between her fingers and giving him a fond smile. "How prompt of you."
"Well, I learned my lesson last time," he jokes, breaking into a grin as he watches her admire the rose. "Wasn't going to waste ten months again or something like that."
Riley laughs, lightly pressing the smooth petals against her lips and inhaling. "Wow, it smells amazing."
"It doesn't smell like anything."
"It smells amazing," she insists, holding it out. "Come on, see for yourself."
Lucas rolls his eyes but obliges, playing along. "Wow. Amazing."
Riley makes a face at him, rolling over and reaching to place the flower on her nightstand. More than prepared to give it all the proper care and attention it requires.
This, she's intending to make last forever.