Word prompts: Street, greet, fleet

Choose one word and write what your imagination dictates. For an added challenge, include all three words in your entry.

Something True

Street, greet, fleet

Last Spring

The snickers and whispers buzzing around Riley's class were growing. Bella could hardly walk between a row of desks without catching the sound of her name followed by the name Mr. Biers. She pretended not to notice.

There was no way anyone could have known. They'd been so careful, acting just like student and teacher at school. Unless she was being followed when she walked to his house, which she highly doubted, nobody could have been sure.

It was Monday, meeting with Riley day.

After he greeted Bella with a kiss, took her jacket off, let it drop to the floor, she barely had a chance to glance at the fish before he was kissing her again, falling on top of her on the sofa.

In recent days, as they made out, he'd been getting more forward with her, breathing harder, sometimes moaning. Just then on the sofa, right after he climbed on top of her, she felt him through his jeans, hard against her leg already. It made her excited and nervous at the same time.

What did he expect her to do? Was she supposed to touch it? She knew guys liked that, but she didn't know if she should, if she could even do it right.

It had been over a week since he'd first felt her breasts. Following his lifting of her shirt and bra, she'd moved her arms to cover herself, but he'd pulled her wrists away from her body, putting his lips on her.

And now his hand was moving up the inside of her leg higher than ever before. His fingers pressed against her panties and she broke the kiss. He pulled his hand away.

"What are your fish's names?"

"What?" He laughed. "They don't have names."

"That's a travesty." She sat up, Riley moving with her. She looked at the tank behind the sofa. "Poor fellas. Can I name them?"

He traced the outside of her bottom lip. "I can't think of anyone better to name them."

She pointed to the one with the big graceful tail. "That one looks wise," she said. "He's The Fish in the Pot."

"His actual name is The Fish in the Pot?"

"From The Cat in the Hat. You know. It's Dr. Seuss. Literature. I thought you'd appreciate that."

"Literature. Right." He kissed her again. "Can't talk you into Marlin, then?"

"Who's Marlin?"

"The fish Santiago battled for in The Old Man and the Sea. Now that was a literary fish."

"I haven't read that, so no, it can't be Marlin." They laughed together. "And the other one is Cliff."

"That one's a female. If they were both males, they'd annihilate each other."

"Oh, then she's Cleo."

"Are you-" he kissed her. "Are you done now?"

She nodded.

Lips on hers, he laid her back on the cushions, spreading her knees with his hand.

She let her legs fall open.

His fingers wandered, but when they got to her panties, she broke the kiss again.

"Bella," he breathed. "You know how much I care for you, don't you?"

Her stomach jumped when he said that. "As much as I care for you?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure, that much?"

"I'm sure that much. Okay? So you can relax with me."

She looked into his eyes and nodded, lying back.

He kissed along her jaw and her throat, his fingers soft on her panties. She tried to relax. She really did. But when he stuck a finger beneath the cotton, she stiffened.

He sighed, pulled away and sat up. "All right."

"What?" She lifted up to her elbows.

"I've got to get some work done. Why don't you come back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. You're distracting me," he said with a smile. "You're too beautiful." He took her hand, walked her to the door, helped her get her coat on, and kissed her once more. "Tomorrow. I want to take you to dinner. I'll figure out a way."

It was raining as she walked home, but they'd agreed he couldn't drive her anymore, too risky. She pulled her umbrella out of her backpack, keeping her hood up and her head down to keep the freezing drops from hitting her face. She shivered—maybe because of the rain, or maybe because she remembered the moment Riley told her how much he cared about her. It made her heart stutter and feel almost as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She played that moment over in her mind. The look on his face, the wetness in his eyes, You know how much I care for you, don't you?

Her heart skipped.

She replayed the moment just to see if her heart would give her that feeling again: You know how much I care for you, don't you? and it worked.

This was love. It had to be. She smiled to herself, nobody else around to see it.

When she looked out at her surroundings, she found that she was already at her street. All she'd seen the whole way home was Riley's face. All she'd heard was his voice. And tomorrow—tomorrow he was taking her out.

...

Bella didn't have the proper dress to wear for a dinner out with an older man, a man she'd recently discovered would be thirty-seven in one more month.

When he'd mentioned his birthday, she'd asked how old he would be. He countered with, "How old do you think I'll be?"

"Thirty-four."

That had made him touch her chin. He told her he'd be thirty-seven in May.

While her dad was on duty and her mother was downstairs, Bella snuck into their room and snatched one of her mother's dresses from their closet. Standing in front of her mirror in only her bra and underwear, she held the dress up on its hanger giving it a once over before slipping into it. It was sleeveless black silk that fell just below her mid-thigh. A little too big on her, she reached far back into her underwear drawer for her padded bra. Riley already knew what her chest looked like so that didn't make a difference. What was important was that the dress fit better. She pinned her hair into an updo and applied more makeup than usual.

She chose her thick, wool coat just in case she ran into her mother on her way out the door. Buttoned up it would cover her completely to the knees—she might have appeared as though she wasn't wearing a thing underneath.

Fueled with anticipation, walking six blocks in heels didn't bother her in the least. The scent of pine was strong in the air.

Keeping to the left side of the street, she avoided the park her mother used to take her to. After all these years, she still couldn't pass it without getting the tune of Mairzy Doats stuck in her head.

Riley opened the door before she knocked. Inside, as he helped her out of her coat, she could smell that he was cooking dinner.

"I thought we were going out."

"You look nice." With a hand on her back, he kissed her. "I thought about it. We'd have to meet at the restaurant. Take separate cars. We'll plan it another time. I didn't feel like being separated from you tonight."

She smiled.

"You look happy." That was something her friends had been telling her. She credited it to the end of junior year coming up. Who isn't happy at this time of year? she'd asked.

But it was the truth; she was happy. Not even the whisperers at school could bring her down.

"Riley," she said, moving farther into the living room with him. "I was thinking on my way home yesterday. I love the way I feel when I'm with you and I don't love the way I feel when I'm not with you."

He turned to her and picked up her hand. "It's as though you're speaking from my mind."

"I've never loved anyone before, but I think—is this it? Is this love?"

"If it feels like love, it's love."

"Does it feel like love to you?

He didn't answer right away, and the look on his face, the way his features pulled tight—his lips, his eyes, his brows—was not what she was used to seeing. He almost looked like a stranger. No longer able to face him, she turned her back to him.

Cupping a hand over her shoulder, he pressed a fleeting kiss to the nape of her neck. When he spoke, it was a whisper. "It feels precisely like love." Another kiss to her neck. "You are in my main artery, beautiful Bella."

Bella's smile returned, greater than before.

They ate at the small, two-person kitchen table. Riley poured them both a glass of red wine. She watched him raise the glass, aligning it with his eyes, check it out, smell it, and then sip it. She did the same, even if she didn't know what she was looking for or what she was smelling for.

"Good?" He asked.

She licked her lips and said it was, though she had nothing to compare it to.

He reached for her hand and she gave it to him. Pulling her out of her seat, he brought her to the sofa, and she knew exactly why. He never brought her to his bed, and she decided this was because he didn't want her to feel pressured.

Hands rubbing backs, they kissed, sharing the same taste of wine on each other's lips. Finding her zipper, he slid it down and lifted her dress off. It fell to the floor. Button by button, his own shirt followed. She touched his chest, the roundness of his stomach. She stopped when she got to the waistline of his pants. He nodded at her. He wanted her to do something.

But her hand was shaking so she brought it up to his shoulder. He was fast on top of her then, his mouth returning to hers. He shifted them to their sides, his fingers traveling between her legs, pressing against her panties. She stiffened. She couldn't help it. Opening his eyes, he moved his hand away and sat up.

"Really? Still? Am I making you that uncomfortable? I want nothing more than to make you feel good."

"I'm not uncomfortable, I've just never been touched there before."

"Bella, technically, I've touched you there before. I like touching you. If you just relax, you'll like it too."

His eyebrows were pulled together. She didn't want to disappoint him, especially not after their evening, and after admitting they loved each other.

If it wasn't right with the person you loved, when would it be right? She was unable to say anything but she nodded, lying back, trying to relax. She closed her eyes and let him touch her.