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chapter thirty eight
florence thompson
song: no one compares to you - jack & jack

After our moment with the sunglasses, we had decided we were going to pick out each other's outfits. After much apprehension on his part, I finally won him over.

It only took another hour and a half in Marshalls before we had effectively dressed one another and paid for our clothing. I had picked out a plain white t-shirt for him and a pair of light wash denim jeans that he was very apprehensive to, along with a pair of black and white athletic shoes that we'd found.

Talk about bargain shopping.

I had tried my best to not put him in something that was ridiculous and out of his comfort zone. I was trying to be a nice friend, you could say.

Vincent, on the other hand?

An asshole.

Hence why I am currently sat in his car in a tank top, blue and white, pinstripe jumpsuit with a bow tied around the waist. Let's not forget the white athletic sneakers he decided to pair with it. Obviously a natural-born fashionista.

Honestly, it isn't even the outfit combination I'm mad at. It's the fact that the height in which I stand at makes me look like a leprechaun in jumpsuits 99% of the time. This one happens to be no exception to the rule.

"Oh, stop looking so grumpy." Vincent grinned from beside me, nudging his elbow in my direction. I didn't look at him and instead kept my gaze on the road in front of us. "You look fine, Florence."

I glared at him for a long moment before returning my attention to where it had been before.

He let a snicker escape that he was clearly trying to hold in.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're angry?" He asked, grinning childishly.

Fine and cute. The most reassuring words one could be given.

"Has anyone ever told you to eat a bag of dic-,"

"Hey! How about McDonald's!" He exclaimed loudly, cutting off my sentence as he tried to stop his laughter.

I shook my head with the ghost of a playful smile on my lips as we pulled into the relatively quiet seeming McDonalds and he parked the vehicle. We both exited the car and entered the building, him, of course, holding each door open for me. The aroma of fast food hit us as soon as we set foot inside.

"Have you ever had McDonald's?" I asked, glancing up at him. He shook his head as he glanced over the menu behind the registers, reading over the different options. I felt my eyes bulge at his answer. I grabbed his arm, tugging his attention down to me. "What?" I blinked, unsure of how to handle this information.

"What?" He parroted, unsure of my shock.

"You've never had McDonald's?" I repeated for clarification.

"No." He shrugged. "My parents were very strict with our diets growing up. Chicken, fish, loads of fish, rice, vegetables."

"But even once you grew up you never wanted to try it?" I asked, turning my attention back to the menu and leaning my head against his arm, trying and failing to suppress a yawn.

He glanced down at me, I could feel it but didn't see it. He pulled his arm away, wrapping it around my shoulders and pulling me against him. I smiled fondly at the action, my inner voice of reason was screaming at me with a pitchfork in hand but I decided that for today and today only I would let my soul sing. Even if that included a man that on any normal day I wouldn't allow myself to become attached to.

"I guess I just didn't have a desire for anything else," he mumbled, his hand running up and down my arm.

"May I take your order?" A polite woman asked as she came to the register where we'd been standing, mulling over the menu and talking.

"What are you getting, Flo?" Vincent asked, looking down to me as I was still secure against his side.

"Can I just get a Big Mac and water, please?" I asked, smiling politely to the lady behind the counter.

I wanted a Sprite, but I think we can all agree that McDonald's Sprite leaves something to be desired.

"Absolutely." She nodded, punching in my order on her screen before turning her attention back to Vincent. "And for you, sir?"

I craned my neck to look up at him. He pursed his lips to the side as he looked over the menu again like he had been before, like something was going to jump out to him.

"May I just get the same thing, but with a medium fry as well?" He asked, his mismatched gaze falling to the lady in front of us.

"Of course," she chirped happily. "For here or to go?" She asked, and I glanced to Vincent who shrugged.

"Here," we spoke simultaneously before she read off our total.

I, being the genius that I am, had thought ahead and when Vincent denied me paying for our clothes at Marshall's, slipped out my debit card and snuck it into the pocket (yes, pockets in a jumpsuit) so I would be quicker at our next stop.

Poor, unsuspecting, Vincent went to pull out his wallet but before it could even leave his pocket, I had already inserted my card into the machine. Vincent stilled behind me and I turned to face him slowly when I caught sight of his deadly look, I grinned cheesily.

I approved the total before removing my card and slipping it back into my pocket.

The lady handed me the receipt before telling us our meals would be out in a short while. With how barren the place was, I believed her.

I moved out of the way even though no one was behind us and went to stand near the pickup area, doing my best to avoid any eye contact with the brooding De Bellis. Before I could even say anything, I felt his angry presence behind me.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his chest as he leaned down to nuzzle his face into the crook of my neck. Immediately all the tension in my body dissolved, leaving me only with the fuzzy, warm feeling that I welcomed with open arms.

"You're not mad?" I asked quietly, placing my hands on his muscular arms that encircled me.

"Oh, I'm mad," he mumbled into my skin, his voice muffled. "Raging, you could say."

"You don't seem it," I whispered, leaning into him and relishing in the feeling.

I realized in that moment of the two of us tangled together that to any onlookers we looked like a couple who couldn't keep their hands of each other. Maybe even two young people in love, two people who wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in one another. Like our end goal was forever, and as Vincent's strong arms held me together, I wished that the onlookers would be right.

I wish that our goal was forever.

But it wasn't. It isn't.

"Vincent?" I asked, my voice sounding detached and distant as he grumbled into my neck, motioning for me to continue. "Who is Julia?"

The words were off my tongue before I could catch them, my heart immediately picking up speed and I wished so desperately that I could take the question back. The part of me that wanted so desperately to know the answer to the question was nowhere to be found, hiding in the shadows.

A prolonged silence lingered between us and I was sure he could feel my pulse skyrocket. He immediately went to release me and step away and thankfully at that moment a lady came to the counter, calling our order. I thanked her quietly and took the tray from her, moving past Vincent, my heart crawling up my throat.

"Where do you want to sit?" I asked, my voice coming out more strangled than usual. My mouth suddenly seemed as dry as the Sahara.

"It doesn't matter," he responded, walking behind me.

The tension between the two of us was ridiculously thick as I set the tray down onto a table near the back of the restaurant and slid into the booth. Vincent slid into the opposite side, not making a move to talk to me or even look at me really.

After a long few moments of the two of us taking our food off the tray and getting ready to eat, I finally broke the silence in a move that I knew I may regret.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, glancing up at him across from me. His mismatched gaze immediately found mine.

He looked at me, sighed, and shook his head. His wayward hair shaking with the motion.

"Don't be, Florence," he breathed, leaning back against the booth.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, we were having a good night," I admitted, feeling like an inexperienced girl all over again. I don't know anything when it comes to dating and I especially don't know anything when it comes to being a sugar baby.

"Who said we weren't still?" He smiled softly, gazing at me in a way that made my insides turn into mush.

"Your grumpy face, I believe." I shrugged.

He raised his brows, cocking his head at me before grabbing a single fry from his box and tossing it across the table at me. I squealed, dodging it quickly. It got stuck in my hair and then lamely fell to the table.

"You're gross," I groaned, tossing it onto the tray as I wrinkled my nose.

He stuck his tongue out childishly before I gasped playfully, grabbing the same fry and chucking it across the table at him.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

• • •

q: favorite flower??

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