Infinite

"Ronnie, what are you doing?" I asked groggily, rolling over to stare at the man as he fell into the dresser while trying to step into a pair of shorts in the dark.

"Nothing," he replied softly, "Go back to sleep."

I hummed tiredly and rolled over on my back. My eyes followed him as he pulled a shirt on too. "Where are you going?" I questioned, sitting up, finally realizing that he was up to something.

"Bathroom," he said, although I didn't believe it at all.

"You're putting clothes on to go to the bathroom," I asked rhetorically, reaching to grab onto his picture covered arms and yank the cell phone from his fingers. "What're you doing?"

In the darkness, I could see his lips as they curled into a smile. He slid his cell phone into the pocket of his shorts before I could try to take it from him again. "Just going to mess with your sister a little bit," he stated with a smirk and a shrug, "Nothing serious."

I rolled my eyes and sighed loudly, dropping back onto the mattress, "You woke me up at-" I glanced at the clock quickly, "Three in the morning so you could pull a prank on my sister?"

Ronnie sat on the edge of the bed, still grinning cheekily. "She deserves it," he said, "She's just tries so hard to push all the wrong buttons. It's time I push some of hers."

I chuckled, unable to disagree with his theory, but not going along with his plan. "She's a teenager," I defended, "and she's Frida. How's she supposed to react to a trouble-maker like you dating her innocent, impressionable older sister?"

Ronnie scoffed in the darkness. "Bullshit," he whispered, gradually getting closer to me as he crawled back onto the bed, his body sliding over mine, his arms holding him up on either side of me.

"Complete truth," I whispered back, meeting his dark eyes as they glinted in the light from the window.

His head dipped down and his lips pressed against mine. I kissed him back slowly, loving the moment that we were living in right now. I touched the tips of his hair as they fell down in front of his shoulders.

"What were you going to do?" I asked, referring to the prank he was going to play on my sister.

Ronnie shrugged against me and shook his head. "I was just going to take a couple pictures and post them on Twitter," he said innocently.

"She would kill you," I said, surprised that he would even consider embarrassing her like that. "You wouldn't live to see tomorrow, Ronnie. I'm serious."

"I don't really care," he chuckled, "It'd totally be worth it to see her face when Caleb tells her about the picture."

"No," I defended, shaking my head, "You're not putting a picture of my sister all over the internet."

Ronnie complained softly. "I post your picture all the time!" he rebutted, "And nothing bad comes from that!"

"That's hardly true," I replied, unable to understand how he could act so unfazed by all the hatred people write on his Instagram and Twitter pictures.

Ronnie understood what I meant and rolled his eyes dramatically. "They're just a bunch of kids, Atticus," he said, whispering quickly, "I don't care what they say and neither do my fans. So you shouldn't either, Atti. None of it really matters. Don't let it get to you."

"It's hard being your girlfriend," I stated honestly, sitting up and leaning against the head board of our bed. "It's really hard, Ronnie."

The man next to me was suddenly quiet, unable to think of a reply that could even start to combat what I'd just said. After a few, silent moments, he moved closer to me and asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were having a hard time?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. It's not a big deal, I guess. It's just something I have to deal with you to get to be with you."

"Yes, it is," he defended, "I could've done something. Atti, I could've kept you out of the spotlight. I wouldn't have posted pictures of you or talked about you online. They wouldn't have known anything about us."

"No, it's not that," I told him, grabbing his hand, "It's not that people know who I am. I've always been in the spotlight and I'm okay with that... It's just that, well," I faltered, not wanting him to be offended or hurt by my words.

"What?" he asked before I could continue, "Just tell me, Atticus. I don't want you to keep things from me. Ever." He slipped his fingers between mine and tightened his grip on my hand.

"You're so controversial," I stated, biting my bottom lip to keep from exploding, "I hate it. I hate seeing you so cut up when you get off Twitter and have just read all the shitty things people say about you. I hate it when you act like it doesn't bother you, even though I know it does. I hated this summer when you cancelled signings because people were throwing things at you and berating you with unspeakable names. It's hard, Ronnie, to watch you go through all of this bullshit and not to be able to do anything about it. You're a better person than they know and they don't even give you a chance."

"Atticus, it's not-"

"Shut up, Ronnie," I demanded, running my fingers through my own hair, "Don't even tell me that it's not that bad, because it's getting worse."

"It's my fault," he defended, looking up to me with incredibly understanding eyes, "I've done some pretty bad shit in the past and I can't expect every fucking person out there to overlook that."

"I don't expect them to," I stressed, "I'm just asking them to also see all the great things and the generous things you've done since then. People are versatile and they're refusing to acknowledge that there's more than you side to you. You're an asshole, but also a good guy."

Ronnie rolled his eyes, unable to have a conversation about the good person inside of him. "It's my fault," he said simply, "You can't worry about it, Atticus. There are always going to be people who don't like me. There's nothing we can do about it."

I pulled my fingers from his and leaned back. I didn't want to accept that. I didn't have to accept other people's hatred of him. Especially sine none of them really knew him. "It's not fair," I dead-panned, sounding like a whining teenager, "People hate you for the things they think you did."

He scooted farther onto the bed and wrapped his arms around my waist. "That's called life, Atti," he murmured, trying to console me, "Life plus bad decisions and fame get you a lot of people who look down on you."

I leaned against his chest and listened to the sound of his words as he tried to make me feel better about the people harassing him.

"For every person out there that hates me," he continued softly, his chin almost touching my shoulder, "There's another person or two that look up to me."

"That's a lot of pressure," I whispered, reaching to touch the bottom of his shirt, wanting him to take it off and crawl back into bed with me.

"It's part of the job description," he said quietly, "It's what I wanted. It's what I've always wanted."

Sappy, romantic words came to mind, but I didn't say them. Instead I pushed his shirt up his stomach and smiled softly when he pulled it over his head, finally giving up on the idea of pranking my sister. He tossed his shirt onto the dresser and his shorts followed, leaving him in only his boxers as I curled into his side.

"Can you believe this is really our life?" I asked, looking up to him with my chin still on his chest.

His fingers touched my bare arm. "No," he said, "Not really. It seems too good to be true."

"That's how I feel," I replied, "I never imagined that I'd feel like this about anyone. I thought I loved people in the past, but it's never felt like this. I guess you kind of snuck up on me."

His chest rumbled as he laughed lightly. "Yeah, well, I didn't expect my friend's daughter to become the center of my universe, but I guess the world really is that fucked up."

I lazily wrapped an arm around Ronnie's bare waist.

"Atti," Ronnie whispered for my attention.

"What?" I asked, my eyes drooping as sleep started coming back to me.

He shifted underneath me and I ended up laying next to him instead of on him. "Are you really going to marry me?" he questioned, his look in his eyes dead-serious as if he could actually doubt me and the insane feelings I had for him.

I hummed, unable to get the words out until the importance of the question finally made its way to the forefront of my mind. "Yes," I said, "Yes, without a doubt. I don't know how you don't see it."

My eyes were closed, but even though it was silent, I knew by the way Ronnie pulled me back to him that he was smiling. I curled back into his side and grumbled to him about doubting me and the wedding ring that already graced my finger.

"I love you," I told him, running my fingers around his side as I wrapped my arm around his waist, "Now go to sleep."

He chuckled and I felt him nod against his pillow. "Okay," he agreed, scooting down to get comfortable, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Afternoon," I clarified, "Nobody is getting out of bed until it's afternoon."

"Okay," he murmured again, pressing the palm of his hand against my back as we went back to sleep. "I'll see you in the afternoon."