Cause someone asked for it and your wish is my...okay it's sometimes my commend, other times I just ignore it and write what I want to. 😁

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Donovan rolled over in bed, stretching out his arm, searching for Carter, wanting to curl her close to him, but all he found was emptiness. Frowning, he blinked himself away and stared at the rumpled blankets that said she had been there. Propping himself on one elbow, he peered around the room.

"Carter?" he said, his voice rough with sleep.

There was no answer. When he looked back at her side of the bed, he spotted a folded note sitting on her pillow. Picking it up, he lay back down. On the inside was a single message: Come find me. Donovan stared at the cryptic note, still half asleep. He twisted to his nightstand planning to call her when he found another note waiting there.

No, I won't answer my phone. Use that brain of yours and come find me.

Smiling now at how well she knew him, Donovan threw back his blankets and climbed out of bed. He walked into their closet and noticed that her running shoes were missing: his first clue. Quickly, he changed into his own running gear and left their room. In the kitchen, on the counter was a glass filled with a power drink, next to it was another note. Drink up, you'll need it. Thoroughly bemused at what was going on, he downed the drink.

Outside, despite the calendar still proclaiming the season to be Winter, it felt warm with the sun offering what heat it could and the day free of any wind or breeze. Still early, the streets were bare for the most part, and what people Donovan did cross paths with were locked in their own world's that they paid no mind to him.

Donovan took to the normal route Carter and him always run, searching for signs of her everywhere. He didn't spot any until he reached the Lincoln memorial. Taped to a pillar was a folded card. Removing it, Donovan glanced around, knowing this note wouldn't have lasted long, one of the service people throwing it away before too long. But Carter wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Donovan, I never would have admitted this, even to myself but the first time I ran into you and James at this place I checked you out. Honestly, how could I not? You were in a t-shirt and I got to fully appreciate your arms for the first time. I'll tell you, I was impressed. But again, I never would have even admitted this to myself, but I felt you should know. All those hours of lifting weights were worth it.

Next: where did you and James go to breakfast?

Donovan read the note twice. "I knew it," he whispered to himself.

Tucking the note away, he raced down the steps, taking off for the cafe that James and he had gone to. It was one that since then Carter and he had often visited. As he ran he felt a sense of eagerness growing inside him, Carter's words playing over in his head. The further he got away from the Mall, the busier the sidewalks became, the day finally nudging others into action.

When Donovan pulled open the cafe doors, a burst of warmth and the bitter scent of coffee cascaded over him. The place hummed with conversations as friends met up over breakfast, needing the companionship as much as the caffeine to rouse them from their sleepy states. As Donovan approached the register, the barista smiled at him, but then cocked her head.

"Donovan?" she asked.

"Yeah..." The barista handed him a note. "How did she describe me?"

This made the girl blush. "Umm...extremely good looking in workout clothes that made you want to take up running." The girl swallowed, looking like she wanted to melt from humiliation.

Donovan held back his amusement for the barista's sake and nodded his head in thanks. Finding a corner, he read.

Three weeks when we were getting breakfast here you got really annoyed with me because you thought I wasn't paying attention to anything you were saying. I was paying attention. But I was also staring at the bit of spinach you had in your teeth. (Which went away when you drank your coffee. Black. Which is gross. Who drinks coffee black?) I didn't tell you about it because there was something so human about this one thing in your teeth. I was struck by how completely normal you were. And how I wanted to stare at you even with this spinach in your teeth.

Next: what was our twelfth date?

Donovan held the note, not sure how he felt about this one. Embarrassment over having spinach stuck in his teeth was at the top of the list. Following that was a puzzlement, trying to understand why it was noteworthy enough for Carter to have brought him here. The first admittance of checking him out made sense, but this one not so much.

Shaking off the confusion, he left, jogging his way through pedestrians to a bookstore nestled between a brewery and a gallery. A bell dinged overheard as he walked into the dusty establishment. Behind the counter, a wizened man was processing returned books. When Donovan walked towards him, the man raised his eyebrows but grinned to himself.

"You must be Donovan," the man said, retrieving another note.

"How did she describe me?"

"Attractive and not at all like someone who read a book."

Only mildly offended, Donovan accepted the note, finding a wall to lean on as he read it.

You took me here on our twelfth date. And do you know what you did? You spent half an hour talking about a series I had never heard of and how the first book and second book were vastly different but how they still complimented each other. I bored the entire time.

But I realized two things at that time. 1. You're a complete nerd without looking like one. You come off so polished and cool I never would have guessed it. 2. I was completely fine being bored by your explanations because I liked the way your eyes lit up when you were excited about certain parts.

Next: the spot I would say that I actually was embarrassed.

Donovan pressed his lips together, again not certain how he felt about this revelation. At the time he had been happy to share something with her that been something he loved, but knowing she was bored tainted that memory.

Shoving the note away, he took off. The next stop was a crowded cross street. He spun around looking for someone who would hand him something. But when no one did, he frowned and studied the area. He noticed a slip of paper taped to the edge of the curb and snatched it before it could be torn away. He ducked into a Starbucks nearby and settled into an empty chair.

On this corner, I sprained my ankle as I was trying to beat you in a race. I felt embarrassed because I looked like someone who didn't know how to run. You had to help me back to the apartment. I looked like some weak girl needing help from a super-strong guy and I felt pathetic. Also, you smelled. I did too.

Next: what's one place I truly hate.

Instead of jumping up to find the next clue, Donovan didn't move. He didn't want to. It wasn't that what Carter was saying was wrong, it had been an extremely hot day and they were both sweaty but he didn't understand why. Why mention that he smelled? Why make a memory something less than what he remembered? 

Frowning, Donovan turned the note over and over in his hand, not sure if he wanted to keep following this trail. Before he could decide whether to head home, someone called out his name. He raised his head, knowing he hadn't ordered coffee.

"Donovan Keller. I just got a call saying to tell you to keep moving," a barista said.

Shaking his head, Donovan stood up, catching the barista's eyes. The guy looked at him sympathetically as if he were in trouble. Donovan waved the guy off and stepped outside. He searched the surrounding area, trying to see Carter among the crowd but she wasn't there. Sighing, he headed towards their apartment building, stopping a few blocks before and stepping into a dry cleaner's. The middle-aged woman behind the counter perked up.

"How did she describe me?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

The woman gave a soft laugh. "Disgruntled but in a very appealing way."

She handed over the note and Donovan sank into a hard chair.

I never explained to you why I hate the dry cleaners. I feel as if it is the stereotypical cliché for a woman to be asked to pick up the dry cleaning. When you asked if I was up for grabbing it on my way home one day I almost punched you. Luckily, I didn't and our marriage was saved. But since then you've dropped off and picked up items from the dry cleaners without any comment. I feel like you deserved an explanation.

Next: It's only happened three times.

Donovan was at a loss for what the next clue meant. In the span of their relationship, there didn't seem to be anything that this clue pertained to. Thinking, he rose and left the dry cleaners. Sunlight bounced off a car window and hit him in the face. Squinting against the glare, he surveyed the other stores on the block, trying to put together the last piece. But nothing came to him.

Dragging his hand through his hair, he made his way part to the apartment. He was halfway there when he passed by a florist shop. He paused, looking at the bouquets on the other side of the window. Realization dawned on him and he walked into the sweet-smelling place that was bursting with an array of color.

"Donovan?" the clerk asked.

"Yup."

The man held out the folded piece of paper.

"Funny," the man said, tilting his head. "Until I saw you her description was vague."

Donovan raised his eyebrow, not sure he wanted to know what this one was. The man didn't seem to care, either way, deciding to tell him. "It was a man who looks like he just realized something but is unsure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing."

Donovan shook his head. "Of course. Thanks."

He left and read the note outside in the sun's warmth.

In the years we've been together you've only ever bought me three bouquets. Why is that?

Next: come home, the bed is lonely.

As Donovan headed back to the apartment he had no idea what was waiting for him. The eagerness he had first felt over the scavenger hunt had long since died and he was left with this baffling mix of confusion and worry as if something bad waited for him at home. When he closed the door behind him, he called out to Carter.

"In here," she said.

On their bed, Carter had assembled two trays, one with coffee and mugs and the other with two plates full of food still steaming. She was wearing one of his shirts and smiled at him.

"Have fun?" she asked.

Donovan lifted the note in his hand. "What was this, Carter? Why do all of this?"

Despite Donovan's obvious displeasure and confusion, she kept smiling. Which seemed to annoy Donovan more than he wanted it to.

"First," she said. "I want an answer to the question. Why have you only brought three bouquets for me?"

Uncomfortable, Donovan dropped his gaze and rolled his shoulders. "It's because the first time I ever brought you flowers you made a joke about them, how I was your suitor and if I asked your father one day I might have your hand in marriage and we would settle down and you would clean the house and be a good little wife. The other two times were less offensive but you never seemed to like flowers so I stopped."

To her credit, Carter was no longer smiling. She nodded in acceptance to that. "Well, it's nice to know I've always been a pain and completely condescending."

Donovan chuckled and relaxed. Carter scooted over and patted the spot on the mattress beside her. Donovan took a step but paused.

"I've been running so I probably smell," he said.

"Good." She patted the spot again. After a breath of hesitation, Donovan kicked off his shoes and sat beside her. Carter cupped his face.

"You hated all of this and I get it."

"I didn't hate all of it."

"No, you liked the first one but after that, you hated the rest."

Donovan didn't respond since any sort of denial would be pointless. Carter ran a hand through his hair.

"Donovan, I know this might come out wrong, but you're human, imperfect, flawed."

"You're right," Donovan said. "That did come out wrong."

She smiled at him and Donovan found his annoyance was weaning.

"I'm serious. But you should know that this is something that makes me incredibly happy." Donovan stared at her skeptical. "I watch how women regard you like you are some perfect man. That you could never do wrong. But for me knowing that you're not perfect helps me know I can be my own messed up self with you.

"I like that you get spinach stuck in your teeth. I like that you smell. I like that I can get bored while you talk because that means that I still have ways to learn to understand you. I like that you don't buy me flowers constantly even when that's what a perfect husband would do. Instead, you pick up the dry cleaning not even knowing why I hate it. You're a mix of wonderful and flawed. Handsome and sweaty. And everything in between. You're human. And the best part of that is that you're my human."

Laughing, Donovan pulled her close and kissed her. "I haven't brushed my teeth this morning."

"And you taste like power shake, my favorite," Carter said between kisses. "At least it's not black coffee. Who does that?"

Donovan just shook his head at her. "You are imperfect, flawed and human, Carter."

"But I'm your human?" she asked, cocking her head.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, you're my human."

"Good." She kissed him. "Happy Valentine's Day."

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*waves at you and you scream* Oh come on! My face is not that terrifying! 🙄

Well we got to give Carter props for doing Valentine's Day her own way, it's a very Carter thing to do! What's your take on all of it? 💭💭🗯❤️🎈

I gotta admit it was hard to imagine Donovan with spinach in his teeth but like Carter said, I guess he's human. Kinda ruined the perfect image of him I had but it's good to know he's just as we are all and has moments of being embarrassed.

Any Valentine's Day stories to share? Good or bad? (Though honestly the bad ones are usually the funniest)

Vote, comment, follow because we're all human!