g o l d e n  y o u
COVEY'S POV:

I pull the fuzzy blanket over my legs and Cooper Dino follows into my lap. Turning up the television, I try my best to get more comfy in the same bed I slept in the first time I stayed the night here. The bed I've only slept in once; the guest bedroom. 

I put a dino chicken nugget in my mouth and let out a deep breath. One day into me moving in permanently and it's already proved to be disastrous. Because the minute something becomes real, everything seems to fall apart.

Even unintentionally.

The door to the room cracks open and at first I think it's a ghost. But it's not. However, it's the man I believe will someday turn my heart into a ghost town. Even unintentionally.

"You're not coming to bed with me tonight?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

I shake my head. "You're not going to apologize?"

"Touché," he grumbles, walking to the middle of the room so that he's in front of the TV.

Glaring at him, I say, "Can you move?"

"No." He crosses his arms as his black hair falls into his eyes. "No, you can't get mad at me for not talking to you."

"I have every right to get mad at you for that," I whisper, clenching my jaw. "What happened to communication? Working things out so that we can work?"

"We can work," he says, his gray eyes intense. "I just don't see why my dad matters in all this."

Sucking up confidence into my lungs, I stand up from the bed so I look a little more intimidating. "It might not matter—but I'm a naturally inquisitive person and therefore I would like to know who my boyfriend's father is. Especially if he's affected you so greatly to the point where you talked to me in a shitty way."

"Covey," he deadpans, but his eyes trail to where the shirt falls just to my mid-thigh. 

"And then you don't just get to objectify me," I say sadly. "You don't get to talk to me in a shitty way and then think you're going to have sex with me. That's not how I operate."

"Covey."

"You do not get to Covey me again. The last time I checked," I say, stepping closer to him so we're not too far apart, "I'm twenty years old and I'm a big girl. I get to say words like shitty and fuck and asshole, especially if your behavior constitutes me to do that." A thought pops into my head. "Don't forget about my rights as a US citizen, the constitution states—"

And he shuts me up in a kiss. And I let him. And it feels like heaven has come to sweep me off my feet.

But his lips are mean and urgent and demanding despite them trying to convince me otherwise. Conrad pulls away, his lips plump and a dangerous look in his eyes. "You are a big girl, Cove. And you're a good girl too. But I don't want you knowing about my dad, okay?"

"No."

"Listen," he grumbles, tightening his grip on my face in his hands. "There are two things you need to know about my father. One, he's a dangerous bitch who has power. Two, he helped create me and now I'm alive. End of story."

"Continuation of story," I object. "If he's a dangerous man, am I in danger?"

"No, because I'm his son and he can't do shit to hurt you." Conrad kisses my forehead. "You don't have to worry, honey. You'll always be safe with me."

"Okay," I whisper, looking up into his eyes. "But," I shake my head, "it's not fair."

He softens the look in them a little. "I'm sorry for talking to you in a shitty way. My dad really fucking bothers me—and I'm not like him, I won't ever be like him." Sighing, he adds, "I wish you could know, but you just can't."

So I take my pride with me and back away from him. "I understand, but if he's going to make you make me feel inadequate and not good enough for you, I think I should know. His presence doesn't really matter, but in the grand scheme of things, it does. He really matters, especially if he can affect your mood."

"Well I can try to control my temper then," Conrad says, his eyes trailing down my legs. 

"You're doing it again," I mumble, snapping my fingers so he looks up at me.

"Can you blame me?" he asks, scoffing. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby."

I turn around so my back is to him. "I want to know. I want to be here for you and calm you down when he gets under your skin—"

"He does not get under my skin, okay?" There's an edge in his voice. "No way in hell—"

"He does and you just don't want to accept that," I mutter, getting into bed. "And you can try to deny it for however long you want, but it's true. Yet it doesn't matter if he does or doesn't because I'll be here for you regardless. And maybe you're not used to having someone be that for you, but I will always play my part. Get use to it."

Looking up to get his reaction, I see him glance at his feet and then back at me. "It's not easy to automatically let someone in when I've spent my whole life shutting people out. I'm trying with you, okay? I'm really fucking trying."

Conrad shakes his head and walks towards the other side of the bed. When he gets in, I turn my body to his so I can look him in the eyes, and when I do, he doesn't seem so closed off. He just looks confused. And then he looks even more confused as if the wheels are simply spinning in his head.

"What are you thinking?" I whisper, putting a hand out onto his chest. 

He places his hand on top of mine. "I'm trying. And I want you to understand."

"I want to understand too," I say, kissing his cheek.

"Maybe sometime soon." Why not now? What's so hard about it... He rubs my waist and says, "I love you, you know that?"

I hum. I know. "I love you too." And we'll figure this out eventually.

******

"Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost is one of the most famous poems in all of history, obviously with exception to Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and many other famous poets," Conrad says Friday morning during our lecture. "On Monday we discussed stanzas, different types of poetry, and the importance of word structure. Today, we will look at the figurative language Frost uses to convey his theme."

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

"What is the theme of this poem? Anyone?" he asks, both his judgemental eyes looking over the sea of students.

I put my hand up, as I always do, and when he calls on me I answer, "Frost is explaining that nothing, especially things that are perfect and beautiful in life, can or even will last forever."

Everything either dies or falls apart.

"And his symbolisms through nature?" Conrad gives me a knowing expression because he knows I know what he means. "That means?"

"Frost uses nature here as the main symbol for his theme because the cycle of life and death shown through the four seasons provides a form of imagery that many people can identify with." I fold my hands in my lap. "Which is the idea that all the good and beautiful things in life will eventually fade away, as sad as it is."

Conrad stares intensely at me and I try my hardest to keep a straight face. "And the lesson, anyone else?"

Margot raises her hand. "Once you recognize how fleeting and precious certain moments are, you will appreciate them even more."

Appreciation of the good times so they can somehow counteract the bad.

"Very good analysis, Miss Lee." Conrad gives her a nod of approval and she sits back in her chair.

Stupid Margot.

"Seasons change, just as life changes. And we change with the seasons, just as we change as our lives develop. It is good to use literature and things as such to reflect on who you are, why you are, where you are in life. Because as an author you are in the driver seat as far as how you affect your readers and listeners." I love it when he talks like a real teacher.

He walks back and forth at the front of the auditorium, and I get distracted with the way his dress shirt fits over his body, the way his hair is neatly in place, how his footsteps are so familiar, and the feeling I get when he turns to look up at me. And nobody knows he's looking at me, but I do. It's like our own secret language. 

We're appreciating the precious moments of life right now.

"Midterms are on Monday. You will be writing your own poem with a prompt I give you. Make sure to come to class prepared, as you will only have your brain and a piece of paper during the class period."

Yes, Sir.

Love you too, Coco Puff.

******
AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Sorry it's taken me forever to get this chapter out to you guys! AHHH- don't kill me.

Also, thank you so so much for 100k reads. That's such a major milestone and never have I ever imagined I could get this far. It's all you, babes.

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