A/N: I really liked this story, so I decided to publish it here as well. Let me know what you think, and thank you reading! :)
Maeve is interrupted from her English lecture by a ping from her phone. She had tuned Ms. Sands out anyway; she'd long gone over the work that was being explained, so she took her phone out from her tote bag and sneaked a peek. It was a message from Otis, and subconsciously, the corners of her mouth turned up.
- "Go to the toilet blocks after school; I have a surprise."
Only the git could use semicolons in a text, and only he could misuse them, Maeve noticed as she read the message. Thoughts of the lesson long gone from her mind, she instead pondered on the surprise that Otis promised in the text. She hated surprises; he knew that; she'd faced way too many bad ones with her mum. But Otis, somehow, had the best ways to surprise her, sometimes shitty ways granted, but mostly the best. Her face frowned at the "toilet blocks" part of the message though. It had been ages since she'd visited that piece of filth, choosing to stick to the rooftop of the school or anywhere else where Otis took her to have her cigarette breaks. What possibly could he want from her there? Her eyes glinted at the thought of doing it there with Otis, Aimee had mentioned it was good in the dirt, but she soon stomped that thought out; they were still taking it slow.
After spending the rest of the class mulling over Otis's mysterious text, Maeve is interrupted by the ring of the school bell, signifying the end of the school day. She hurries out of class, barely mentioning thanks to Ms. Sands as she usually did, and walks to the toilets, finding them, to her surprise, vacant. She checked every stall, even behind the building, and there was still no sign of Otis. If it weren't the muppet's lifelong motto to be on time, she wouldn't have been this astonished, but Otis's tendencies to be punctual made Maeve question his appearance or lack thereof. After 5 minutes of waiting, as she grabbed her phone to text Otis, she stopped as her phone buzzed, indicating a message from Otis. She opens it and is faced by the cryptic words,
- "Own your narrative."
At this instance, she finally decides to phone Otis and starts dialing his number. After a few rings, there is a buzz at the end and a robotic voice telling her that the number was unavailable, followed by Otis's voicemail to call him at a later time. She hangs up the call, intrigued, confused, and slightly frustrated. She opens her messages app again and texts Otis, asking,
- "What's going on? Where are you?"
A few seconds later, a response comes through from Otis, stating,
- "You're doing a scavenger hunt; the last location is the spot for our date."
Maeve quirked her eyebrows at his response. She typed back,
- "What?"
Otis replied,
- "Just go along with, please?
Maeve huffed. It wasn't like she could say no to him,
- "Fine, what the hell does own your narrative mean, though?"
Otis answered,
- "It's your first clue."
- "I have to go now, hope you figure it out… or not ;)"
With that, Otis left Maeve hanging, leaving her wondering what exactly "own your narrative" meant. She owned her narrative; she was literally the most expressive person at school; what the fuck did that have to with anything? Her mind wandered to the day she first became acquainted with Otis at this place, the odd circumstance that led them to the clinic, them dating, and everything in between. To think it all started with some viagra and an asbestos-filled toilet block. It's then when it hits her. "Own your narrative," How could she forget? It was what Otis had said to Adam during their first session. But what did that have to do with anything here? She was at the location of the speech, but other than that, there wasn't much that hadn't happened that day. She paced up and down the aisle of stalls, cursing Otis under her breath for playing stupid games with her. Secretly, the idea of a scavenger hunt was growing on her; she'd never done fun activities like such in any of her previous relationships. She searched around the room, hoping for any visual clues around her.
On instinct, she enters the stall Adam had locked himself into that day, the third one from the right. She scours the space for anything, lifting empty cigarette packs and discarded papers lying on the floor. She then moves on to the rusty garbage can attached to the stall's flimsy wall, sliding her fingers through the slot. Her fingers come across a smooth piece of paper, and she lifts it up and out of the bin. She is faced with a small white envelope, with her name engraved in Otis's loopy handwriting on the front. She smiles and uses her fingernails to pry open the envelope, and a brown piece of construction paper falls out. She turns the envelope upside down in hopes of finding something else, but it comes up empty, save for the piece of brown construction paper. She picks it up from the ground and scrutinizes it, inspecting for anything remaining on it. But after a thorough investigation, she finds it bare and brown, a regular piece of construction paper. She groaned aloud, cursing Otis. Out of all the cute couple activities, the muppet came up with this? But Maeve was determined to solve the puzzle, and once she had set up her mind, there was no knowing who could stop her.
For the time being, Maeve exits the grimy building, confident that nothing else was to be found there, and lights herself a cigarette to help her think. She notes her empty cigarette packet, making a mental note to stop at Brown's to pick up a pack sometime. Brown's, Brown's. Fuck, that's it. Maeve smirks, stomps the cigarette with her boot, and sets out to the Brown's Village Store.
Maeve is greeted at Brown's with the tinkling doorbell and a nod from the French exchange student behind the counter. Raymond, no, Ryan, no Rahim, that's it. Something went on between him and Eric, she knew, she meant to ask Otis, but with their newly established relationship and mended friendship and catching up in between, she'd barely had time to remember the little things as such. She'll ask him today if she finds Otis after this wild goose chase, she thinks, shaking her head. She roams up and down the aisles aimlessly, not exactly sure what she was searching for. She walks through the alcohol aisle, wondering if she should lift some for whatever Otis had planned tonight, when her phone rings. She opened it, seeing Otis's notification, who had sent a link to a youtube video. Maeve clicks on it, and on her phone's speakers, Sugar Daddy, one of the themes from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, starts blaring on full volume, which is met with a death stare from the middle-aged lady in the aisle beside her and an amused smirk from Rahim at the counter. She gives an apologetic glance to both, muttering a sorry and turning the volume down.
The musical number plays without any significance, and Maeve doesn't find anything noteworthy in the clip. She tries to remember anything to do with Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but the only thing she could reminisce about was Eric's ramblings about them when the Moordale musical was coming up. Other than that, the only thing Maeve could recollect was Otis's costume from the day she ran away from Jackson's house. They had been at Brown's that day, the memory coming to her. What had they gotten? Orange juice. Orange juice and that chocolate bar that Otis had tried and failed to steal. They'd shared it together while walking back to Aimee's house, Maeve recalls, smiling wistfully at the memory. She goes to the refrigerator, grabbing a pint of orange juice from the fridge and impulsively grabbing a bottle of alcohol from the shelves as well, and stuffs it into her tote bag. She stops by the chocolate bar aisle and takes two curly wurly's to go along with it.
She reaches the counter, points towards a pack of Benson & Hedges, and slaps the orange juice and chocolate bars in front of her. Rahim was it, raised her eyebrows towards her, but wordlessly rings all the items up.
"10 quid." He mentions solemnly when he looks up, still observing her.
Maeve rummages through her purse and drops a couple of bills, stuffing her purchases into her bag, not wanting to waste an extra 10 pence on getting a paper bag.
As she's heading out the door, she hears him calling out after her,
"Wait!" Maeve turns around to look.
"Otis told me to give this to you."
In his hand is a small white envelope, identical to the one she had found in the rubbish bin at the toilet blocks. She grabs it from him, murmurs a pleasantry, and sets out the door, stopping by the bench to sit down and open the envelope. On the front, she found the same haphazard script of Otis's handwriting, with her name etched on it as well, sealed tightly. She rips the envelope open, curious to what this one held. In her hands, a single slip of paper fell out. Written in Otis's penmanship was a poem,
"Learning to love differently is hard,
love with the hands wide open, love
with the doors banging on their hinges,
the cupboard unlocked, the wind
roaring and whimpering in the rooms
rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds
that thwack like rubber bands
in an open palm.
To Have Without Holding by Marge Piercy was the poem Maeve recognized. She also recognized when she had mentioned the poem; it was the first time she'd told Otis she loved him. It was hard, extremely hard for her to utter those words, so she'd just recited the poem, which was a much simpler task in her head. It was not a simple task, and in true fashion of their relationship, it ended comically; she'd absently said it while they were watching an episode from the Office, just blurted it out loud, leaving a perplexed Otis trying to process a soliloquy and David yelling at Neil. He'd paused the episode, and Maeve had come again, and when Otis finally got the significance behind it, he had given her one of his smiles and told her that he'd be ready to hear that from her whenever she was, and they'd gotten back to watching the Office, snuggled into each other.
A month later, Otis had told her countless times that he'd loved her, but she hadn't mentioned it once to him. There was never any pressure from his side, but Maeve always felt a surge of guilt when he casually muttered those three words. She folds the poem back into the envelope, not exactly sure what it meant, but set out towards her caravan, stumped with this clue.
Maeve unlocked her caravan, successfully avoiding Cynthia and Isaac on her trek to the trailer park. She walked inside and dropped her bag on the couch, heading to her bedroom to find her copy of The Moon is Always Female, where the poem was from. She rummaged through her bed, lifting discarded clothes lying haphazardly and multiple jumpers, courtesy of Otis. It was times like these she wished she was organised like Otis. She checked her bedside table, sorted through the plethora of books left on the table. The irony of never finding things in her ant-sized caravan always struck her, but instead of being amused, she was frustrated at the moment. After ransacking her room apart, she moved on to the main room, tearing that one apart as well. She cursed and cursed some more, but finally, she found the blue cover of the book under the sofa; she flipped to the poem's page, and on top of the words, lay an envelope. She tore it open and out fell a piece of paper. Inside it stated,
The Office, Season 4, Episode 3/4 , 34:22
Maeve fumbled across the sofa for her bag and fished around for her phone inside. She opens the Netflix app, also courtesy of Otis, who had shared his account with her. Conveniently, the episode was at the top as she clicked on the show, and she thumbed through the episode to reach the specific timing. She watched as Dwight and Michael argued over which right to take, ending up in the lake, with Dwight yelling, "There is no road here."
Maeve smiles as she turns her phone off, pocketing it and the book. She knew exactly where to go.
Maeve trekked to the little quarry by the river, which Otis had shown her from his house's deck. It was a small inlet beside his home, the tiniest landing which would be missed unless you were looking for it. She ducked under the bridge, and soon enough, she found Otis next to the river, immersed in his phone, sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket on top of it. Maeve decided to poke some fun at Otis, considering the journey he had put her through to get here. She scurries behind him, squeezing the sides of his stomach, eliciting a yelp from Otis, which caused him to jump. Maeve began giggling at his shock, feeling satisfied at getting back at him.
"Maeve! You made it!" Otis exclaimed when he realized who had frightened him.
"Do you really think I was stupid enough to not?" Maeve asks, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.
"No, no, I was just concerned, and we've never done this before…." Maeve smirks, amused as she watches Otis ramble.
"Anyways, how did you like the scavenger hunt?"
Maeve motioned Otis to get up, which he did. Then, she took her fist and gently punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow, what was that for?" Otis whined.
"For making me go on a wild goose chase when you could have literally just told me to meet you at the quarry." Maeve retorted.
"But then it wouldn't have been as fun," Otis pointed out.
"Okay, okay, yeah, it was fun," Maeve admitted, raising her hands in mock surrender.
Otis gave her a smug look, and Maeve took a second to take her surroundings in. There was a humongous picnic basket to her right, accompanied by a portable record player as well as a bouquet. She was intrigued by the flowers but didn't say anything and instead asked Otis,
"Why did you bring me here? Or more specifically, why did you make me hunt down a bunch of envelopes to come here?"
"I thought we could have a picnic, you know listen to some music, have some fun. Not that it seems like that word is in your dictionary." Otis teases.
"Watch it, you're already on a thin line for the spectacle you put on today," Maeve retorts, moving closer to Otis and laying down on his lap, to which Otis jumps again. They get comfortable, and they smile at each other, grins they couldn't contain, after not seeing the other the entire day. Maeve leans up to kiss him, and they do so for a while, long kisses with no goal, lazy, idle, and content. When they finally seem satisfied with their snogging, they separate, and Maeve starts setting the food out.
"What did you bring to eat?" Maeve asks.
"Well, there's a charcuterie board…"
"Come again?" Maeve repeats, smirking.
"A charcuterie board?"
"You mean charcuterie board." Maeve corrects.
"Yes, that, that's what I said," Otis states plainly, frowning.
"No, you said, charcuterie," Maeve mocks, laughing.
"Okay, okay, grazing platter?" Otis rolls his eyes.
"Fancy aren't you, with your grazing platter," Maeve teases further.
"Fine, cheese and crackers, is that better?" Otis corrects.
"Much. What is that?" Maeve says with a straight face, pulling out a brown piece of crumbs that could have once passed as a cake.
"It's an angel food cake."
Maeve bites back a smile, her lips tugged on by her teeth, nodding as she goes along with Otis.
"It's funny because…"
"No, I get it; it's hilarious."
"Oh?" Otis raises his eyebrows. "Can't a guy bake a cake in peace?"
"Not when it comes out looking like the devil food cake," Maeve snorts. "I mean, Aimee would be jealous of this masterpiece."
"Shut up. It tastes good, I promise. And I brought lemon bars too, and wotsits too, just in case."
"Burnt angel food cake, lemon bars, wotsits, a charcuterie board," Maeve emphasizes, "orange juice, and curly wurly's, what a lovely picnic."
"Only the best for you, m'lady," Otis responds, with the same tone of sarcasm Maeve had put on.
"I love it," Maeve comments, this time genuinely.
"Really?" Otis asks, shocked.
"I mean food and orange juice, as well as my favourite boy? What more could I ask for?" Maeve bats her eyelashes.
"A record player?" Otis mentions as he pulls out the portable record player from behind his back.
"A record player." Maeve nods. "Yes, a record player just brings all of this together."
Otis reached out to the picnic basket, pulled out a record, and attached it to the record player. Maeve noticed another record in the basket, but she couldn't see the cover. Soon, soft jazz tunes started playing. Otis smiled elatedly,
"Not bad, for a picnic is this," Otis says, looking over everything proudly.
"Not bad at all," Maeve answers, smiling at his elatedness.
They soon begin devouring the "feast" in front of them, Maeve comically holds the grapes from the grazing platter over her mouth, dangling across her lips. Otis notices and laughs,
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to act like you're my muse and write poetry about you?"
"Are you saying that you're not writing poetry about me already?" Maeve teases.
"No…" Otis jokes.
"Oh, who is your esteemed muse then?" Maeve questioned.
"I thought we were reversing gender roles and shit?" Otis pointed out. "Shouldn't you be writing poetry about me, then?"
"You got me there, Milburn," Maeve laughs as she pulls out her notebook from her tote-back, semi-seriously jotting down words in her journal, the same one Otis had gifted her.
Otis got out his phone and started clicking pictures of Maeve, jokingly stating, "The best I can do is take mediocre photos."
"That'll have to do for now," Maeve acquiesced, smiling and putting down her diary to reach for Otis's guacamole.
"I think…" Maeve reached for another cracker and dipped it into the bowl of guacamole. "I think I am in love with your guacamole."
"I'm sure the guacamole will be down to make stellar paintings of you," Otis said, grabbing for the bag of wotsits.
"I'm sure," Maeve dunked a crisp into the bowl of guacamole, finishing the entire bowl with a satisfied moan.
Over the next half an hour or so, the two sat in peaceful content, finishing the banquet laid out in front of them. The "devil's" food cake turned out to be surprisingly scrumptious, despite the burnt edges' chalky aftertaste. Otis's lemon bars were terrific, as usual, and by 15 minutes, the charcuterie board was empty as well. Maeve gave a satisfied sigh and laid down on the blanket, noticing the rushing river by her feet, sun tickling her nose, looking at the clouds above her.
"Tired of writing, oh, wise one?" Otis questioned as he laid down beside her.
Maeve giggled and reached for Otis's hand, which she held across her stomach. "Nope, just happy."
"Well, I'm glad."
"Way to overstate the obvious, dickhead."
"Overstater of the obvious, great organizer of picnics, what can I say?" Otis bragged, mockingly.
"Also, very humble, may I add?"
"Oh always," Otis agreed.
"Look, look, that cloud looks like you!" Maeve pointed out a fluffy white cloud.
"Wait, where?" Otis exclaimed.
"Look over there!"
"I don't see the resemblance," Otis frowned.
"I don't know; I think the cloud looks quite like a dick to me," Maeve chuckled.
Otis sacked her shoulder, to which Maeve sacked his back, leading to a semi-play fight between the two, in which it ended with Otis tickling Maeve, which made the latter erupt in loud bursts of laughter. They laid there like that for a while, together, laughing and bathing in the sunshine. It took several cycles of laughter and repetition for them to collect themselves finally, but when they did, Otis asked,
"Oh! Did you bring The Moon is Always Female?
"Yeah, I have a couple of other books too. Why?"
"I think you mentioned once that you'd like to read poetry and go on a picnic with me, so I thought we could go do that today?" Otis proposed shyly.
Maeve had to stop herself from letting out a big grin and bit her lips to keep it in, elated at the proposal. She'd never gone on such an eccentric date before, and she was immensely enjoying it. Unable to express herself, she nods and motions to get the books. She returns with The Moon is Always Female and a few other novels she had in her bag that she carried everywhere. She laid back down next to Otis, this time resting her head on Otis's chest, her hair splayed across his torso. He wrapped his arms around her, and she began reciting her annotations, excitedly pointing out poems and chapters that she found intriguing, Otis intently listening to her analysis. The sun was bright; the river was rushing by, the blanket soft, Otis's warm smell all-encompassing, the smooth jazz from the
record player in the background lovely, and for a minute, everything was perfect.
As Maeve recited her poetry to Otis, the sun was setting in the west, which caught her attention. Maeve never missed a sunset; they held a special significance to her. She shook Otis's hand and pointed towards its direction, urging him to get up and look at the sunset with her. They both got up and faced west, admiring the beauty of the colors presented by nature. After a minute, Otis jumped, scaring Maeve, and ran to the picnic basket, fishing out the second record that Maeve had spotted earlier. He quickly switched out the jazz playing on the record player and swapped it with this new record. He set the needle down and ran back to Maeve,
"A dance, my lady," Otis asked as he offered her a hand.
Maeve giggled and accepted, resting one hand on his shoulder as another one wrapped around her waist. The opening notes to Le Festin, the theme from Ratatouille, started playing, and Maeve couldn't help but giggle into Otis's shoulder.
"Are we really about to slow dance to a song about a rat becoming a chef?" Maeve questioned.
"Firstly, no Ratatouille slander will be tolerated; secondly, I'll explain the significance after the dance. Shall we dance?" Otis responded.
Maeve nodded, and they began, swaying under the sunset, the hopeful and sweet tune of Le Festin, accompanying them in the background. They tripped over a couple of the rocks by the river, which elicited giggles from both of them, but they soon found each other back on track again. As the ending notes shrilled and the record scratched to an end. They both collapsed onto the blanket, leaning on each other, as the last of the sun's rays glowed to an end as well. After a few moments of peace and taking in the atmosphere's aura, Maeve broke the silence with her itching question about Otis's song choice.
"So, muppet, why did we dance to the opening themes of Ratatouille?"
"Well, Le Festin, the song we just danced to, means "the Feast" in French, which considering we just had one, I thought would set the mood."
"However, the song also talks about the hardships in life and the turmoil we go through. The latter half is a more hopeful tune, which sings for the hopeful times in life and has a feast to celebrate the good times we enjoy. I thought it was a good metaphor for our situation." Otis explained shyly.
Maeve nodded along, leaning into Otis's shoulder, a soft smile on her face, once again bewildered that the depths that this amateur sex therapist carried and how much thought he put into everything. She couldn't find much to say, so she went with, "You manage to make many things perfect." Her way of saying, "I love you."
"Really?" Otis jokes. "That's not helping my ego."
"You could probably do with a little bit of confidence, anyway." Maeve laughed.
They're interrupted by a buzz from Otis's phone, which he pulls out to check. He turns a bright red reading his message, and Maeve immediately notices and is at once intrigued.
"What's up?"
"Nothing, nothing, it's just Eric." Otis brushes off.
"Oh? What's he asking?"
"Nothing, just wondering how our forest-glade fantasy is going." Otis blurts. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes the grave mistake he has made. Fuck! How is he gonna get out of this one?
"Oh?" Maeve raises an eyebrow. "What forest-glade fantasy?"
"Oh, no, it's nothing, don't worry about it." Otis quickly stated.
"No, no, please do tell." Maeve pressed.
Otis sighed. He was trapped. Better tell the truth than nothing, he figured; he was done lying to Maeve.
"Do you remember our first clinic session?"
"The one with Adam?" Maeve asked.
"No, no, not that one. Our first "official one."
"Mhmm"
"Yeah, that. Do you remember how I couldn't look you in the eye when we met up?"
"Yeah, yeah, you were acting a little stranger than usual that morning."
"Well, basically, the night before, I had my first wet dream." Maeve gasped.
"About you," Otis added meekly.
Maeve covered her face in shock, holding back part laughter and part intrigue.
"What was it about?" She questioned as inconspicuously as possible.
"Nothing, nothing." Otis blushed.
"Otis!"
"Fine, fine! I dreamt we were in the forest, you know the one by Aimee's house, and we were on a picnic, and we were having a good time, and then you stripped, and we kinda did it there." Otis whispered.
"So, kinda like today?" Maeve questioned innocently.
"Yes, no, what, no, definitely not!" Otis exclaimed, dumbstruck.
"Do you want me to strip Otis?" Maeve raised her eyebrows in a manner Otis would have loved to describe as flirtatiously.
"No, I think I'm fine. Just fine," he answered, his face a brighter shade than before.
"Okay, if you say so," Maeve moved closer to whisper into his ear, "I think I would have loved stripping for you."
Otis jumps while Maeve watches, amused. She leans into him, resting on his shoulder, as the duo watch the last glimpses of the sun vanish. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the bouquet she'd seen earlier, wondering what they were for.
They're sitting on the bridge — the bridge of almost kisses and Nutella stained jumpers. Their legs dangle side-by-side against the matured, dusty pieces of oak that line the bridge. He had tried to wrap his storky legs into a fold. Still, after several unsuccessful drunken attempts and much amusement from Maeve's behalf, he had conceded to his legs, and instead, inserted them through the narrow slots of the bridge. They swayed with the breeze, and occasionally, he would grab their interlocked hands and swing them up and down as well. This elicited giggles, yes giggles, from Maeve. The bridge was a spot of comfort for them now; they came here often to look at the stars, after hopping a bottle of tequila from Brown's. Maeve had suggested coming here after the sun had set, not entirely wanting to end her perfect day with Otis. They sat against the wood panels, hand in hand, legs touching, discussing everything and nothing. The future, Maeve's full-ride scholarship to Cambridge, universities, Otis's plans for uni, and videos of dogs getting stuck in doors (from Otis). The bouquet of flowers was still in his hand, and she'd noticed him carrying it the whole evening. Much to her entertainment, she had observed him building up the courage to hand them to her on their walk here, but each time he had faltered and nervously pushed them away. This earned a few smirks from Maeve, and deciding that the nervous dickhead was never going to build up the courage to hand them to her, she asked:
"Are those flowers for me?"
Otis smiles and fidgets with the bunch of flowers in his hand. "Yeah," he says shyly. "Yeah," he adds a few seconds later, with wavering confidence. He tentatively hands them over to her.
"There are so many colors on here it kinda looks like Eric's outfit." she jokes. It was true, to the eye, the bouquet looked like mismatched socks paired together, none of the flowers complementing each other. It was quite different from the bouquet he'd given her on the day of her abortion.
"Care to explain why it looks like a Picasso painting threw up on my bouquet?" she asks. She turns to look at him, but instead of meeting his eye, she sees him averting her gaze, seemingly finding something exciting in his nail bed. And, is he blushing?
After a lengthy silence, she hears him murmur, "Well, each of the flowers means something."
The silence ensues, and he continues after a few seconds,
"The red roses symbolize love. Our love and I think it would be a nice touch from the bouquet I gave you the first time. The violet columbines represent wisdom and intelligence. They're often overlooked for their sister plants, the African violets. I personally think they represent you."
He looks over at Maeve, meeting her brown eyes. He thinks they are watering, as he can see the faint glow and the bright moonlight glittering against them, reflecting little flecks of copper that he could get lost in. There are a thousand words he could say about them, like how when she's lost in books, they turn big and full, like a crystal orb. Or in the morning sunlight, they remind him of freshly turned earth in the rain, honey dripping from their sides. There are a thousand words he could say about them, but now he's interrupted by a soft squeak. Apparently, the squeak in question is something that Maeve is saying.
"How do they remind you of me?"
"Well, you are a columbine, Maeve. I mean, like I am not degrading you to a flower, and I'm certainly not objectifying you, I would never…"
Maeve leans over and shuts him up with a soft kiss. She releases and whispers, "You were saying something about columbines?"
"Right, so yeah, the columbines remind me of you. You're intelligent and smart, and so incredibly wise. And you're constantly underestimated and overlooked by everyone, but that doesn't stop you from growing. There's so much more to you than what meets the eye, just like the columbine."
His eyes wander over to Maeve, and she thinks that he's expecting her to say something. Still, his short speech has rendered her speechless, so she gently squeezes his thigh, urging him to continue. Thankfully, his dense head finally realizes the meaning, and he forgers on.
"And then we come to the lupines. Lupines are special because they come in an abundance of different colors. They're multi-faceted, and if I'm honest, some of them have more characteristics than people at our school."
They both share a chuckle, and Otis goes on. "I guess these mean that I love every side of you. I love blonde Maeve and brunette Maeve; I love scary Maeve and vulnerable Maeve. I love Maeve when she's a bitch, which is most of the time, and I love Maeve when she's failing to cook me omelets for breakfast. I love every side of you, and I'm so glad you trusted me with opening up to all your different quirks."
Maeve smiles and punches Otis in the shoulder, "You were pushing it there, for a second, dickhead."
"Which brings me to the sunflower and the king protea. The king protea is a symbol of courage. It is, in all notions, a symbol of you. Strong, beautiful, brave, each of the things that you encompass each day. Each and every one of the things you've taught me. Lastly, the sunflower. The sunflower was a joke of sorts, you know, because you're an absolute fucking ray of sunshine. And, as a whole, these mismatches of flowers portray us. By the books, we were never supposed to work. I was an anxious, lanky teenage sex therapist, and you were a rebellious, intelligent, social outcast. We're like each and every one of these flowers, a contradiction of personalities, but for some godforsaken reason, we work."
Otis takes in a breath, and for a while, he doesn't look at Maeve. He is extremely embarrassed to find that his cheeks are turning a bright shade of red, and he prays that either Maeve is looking away or she can't see his face in the dim moonlight. It is, by far, one of the most personal things he has done for her. Even though he has confessed their love for each other, this, for some reason, feels personal on a different level.
A few moments pass, a comfortable silence encompassing them both. Otis is turning a bit fearful and panicky from Maeve's quietness, but he wills himself not to show it. He is half scared that Maeve will get up and run, but she surprises him and instead pulls him closer and leans her forehead against his. The sudden intimacy shocks him, but her touch is calming, and he relaxes. They stay in that position until Maeve pulls him in for a kiss. The kiss is a juxtaposition of sorts; it feels like everything and nothing. It's slow with contentment but feels fast and passionate, a flurry of emotions coursing through both of them. When breathing becomes a necessity, they pull apart, leaning against one another, Otis's long arms around Maeve's shoulder. Softly, in the dark, she whispers the words she had struggled to say so far, "I love you."