Not the Marrying Kind

by Jae

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess.” He handed over the plant, and she wrapped it for him while Brooke rang up his purchase.

  He slid his credit card back into his wallet and again tucked the orchid beneath his arm. “Wish me luck. I’ll let you know how powerful your plants are when I see ya at Johnny’s.”

  Ash nodded. “See you Saturday.” She would also see Sasha at the bar. But that was two days away. Was it really fair to wait that long? Ash knew she couldn’t expect Sasha to always be the one who came to her. She had been the one to start the kiss, and she had been the one who ran and left Sasha to deal with the mess in the kitchen. Now she would also have to be the one to seek her out and apologize.

  Maybe she should take a page from Travis’s book and give her an apology flower.

  Once Travis was gone, she glanced at the leftover white orchids.

  No. Orchids were out, since they also symbolized passion.

  What’s wrong with that? a little voice in the back of her head piped up. Her mind immediately flashed back to the way Sasha had kissed her. That little flutter thing she did with her tongue would have made her knees buckle if she hadn’t already been on the kitchen floor. Those had without a doubt been the most passionate moments of her life.

  “No,” Ash said loudly to drown out that other voice inside of her. “No orchids.”

  Brooke looked up from where she was cleaning up her workstation. “Um, no orchids for what?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud. I might take a flower to a…uh, a friend, and I was wondering which one would be the right one.” She looked over their stock as she changed the water in the buckets for the flowers in the cooler.

  The lavender roses were especially beautiful today, but they weren’t an option either since they represented love at first sight. Pink camellia were out too because they told the recipient I long for you. The message of lathyrus—Thank you for a lovely time—seemed a little ambiguous given how they had spent their last evening together.

  Too bad there wasn’t a flower that said, Sorry for kissing you and then running for the hills.

  “You’re letting all the cool air out of the cooler,” Brooke said. “Must be a super special friend if it’s taking you this long to decide.”

  “She is,” Ash said in a whisper not meant for Brooke’s ears. More loudly, she added, “Picking a flower with exactly the right meaning isn’t easy.”

  Brooke shrugged. “Most people wouldn’t know what they mean anyway.”

  “I would know,” Ash said quietly.

  “I think you’re making this way too complicated. Why don’t you get them something else?” Brooke suggested. “Like, I don’t know, cupcakes or something.”

  Ash chuckled nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Cupcakes were what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. She took the remaining alstroemeria and closed the cooler. The Peruvian lilies symbolized friendship, and Sasha had seemed to like them when she had seen them in the mock-up of the bridal bouquet. “Why don’t you take off now? All that’s left to do is closing out the cash register and dropping off the money at the bank.”

  Brooke reached for her jacket and slipped it on. But then she paused in the middle of the shop. “I was wondering if you could pay me early this week. I’m going to St. Joe for dinner and a movie with Logan tomorrow night, and I’m kinda broke.” She turned the front pockets of her jeans inside out as if to prove it.

  “Logan?” It was the first time Brooke had mentioned him. “Wait, you’re dating the Beasleys’ son?”

  “Hell, no.” But Brooke was blushing to the roots of her hair that she’d dyed blue last week. “We’re just hanging out. That’s why I need the money. I don’t want him to pay and assume…you know?”

  Ash could only wish she’d been so insightful about what she wanted and didn’t want at Brooke’s age. “I think that’s really good.”

  “So you think dating him would be a bad idea? Not that I want to. Just…in general and everything.”

  The knowing grin on Ash’s lips died away. Oh jeez, why did Brooke have to ask her of all people for dating advice? That was like going to eighty-nine-year-old Mr. Gillespie for tips on how to write a rap song. “I don’t know, Brooke. I only talk to his parents, but I don’t really know him well enough to say.”

  Brooke stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Yeah. Never mind. It’s totally hypothetical anyway.”

  Ash didn’t believe that for a second. She tried to think of something helpful to say. What kind of advice would Sasha give if she were here? “How does he treat you?”

  “Depends. When it’s just us and a bunch of friends, he’s great. Really listens to me, you know? Like my opinion matters.”

  “That sounds great.” Ash knew Brooke didn’t get that at home. Most of the time, her parents’ idea of communication was to shout at her.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t want his parents to know that he hangs out with me.” Brooke’s shoulders slumped, and she sank into her jacket up to her chin, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

  Ash’s stomach bunched into a tight ball. Her first instinct was to tell Brooke how stupid he was for not being proud to have her as his friend—or even date—but who was she to say that when she had run out on Sasha so her aunt wouldn’t see them together?

  “I’m sorry, Brooke. I wish I had some real advice to give you. The only thing I can tell you is that I don’t think it’s about you. It’s about him and his own insecurities.”

  Brooke didn’t look convinced. “How do you know?”

  Ash sighed. “Because I’ve been there.”

  Brooke let out a snort. “Yeah, right. Everybody’s always talking about how you dated Mr. Homecoming King when you were my age. I bet he proudly paraded you around every chance he got.”

  Ash’s gaze went to the door. “Promise you won’t repeat what I’m about to tell you to anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone by making this public knowledge.”

  “Cross my heart.” Brooke drew an X on the left side of her chest with her finger and leaned forward eagerly so she wouldn’t miss a word.

  Shit. Now she had put herself into a situation where she had to maneuver carefully so she wouldn’t say too much. But helping Brooke was worth it. “Brandon did parade me around, and I did the same to him. But that’s all it was. We were with each other for all the wrong reasons—because it was kind of expected of the head cheerleader and the star quarterback, not because we cared deeply for each other.”

  “So that’s why you broke up?” Brooke asked.

  “Yeah, basically.” There was a lot more to it, of course, but she couldn’t tell Brooke that. Not without coming out to her.

  “Are you saying that if Logan and I really care for each other—totally hypothetically, of course—it doesn’t matter if he keeps it from his parents?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” She had seen what hiding their relationship had done to Holly. It had slowly suffocated that joy she now saw back in Holly’s eyes. She didn’t want that for Brooke. “Maybe you should talk to Logan and try to find a solution together.”

  Brooke sighed. “What if there is no solution? You know his mother. She wants him to bring home someone like you. Not…this.” She gestured at her blue hair and her nose ring.

  God, the irony of it. “Trust me, Mrs. Beasley would be lucky to have someone like you, not someone like me, as her potential daughter-in-law.”

  “Whoa!” Brooke’s kohl-rimmed eyes widened. “Hey, we’re talking hypothetically! No one said anything about daughter-in-law.”

  “Oops. Sorry. Of course. Completely hypothetical.” She opened the cash register, handed Brooke her money for the week, and added a little extra. “Gas money,” she said at Brooke’s questioning gaze. “Wouldn’t want Logan to think it’s a date because he’s driving.”

  Brooke c
huckled. “Right. Thanks. For the money and, you know, the advice.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ash watched her leave. When the door closed behind Brooke, she arranged the alstroemeria into a hand-tied bouquet. It was time to take her own advice and go talk to Sasha.

  Sasha lay stretched out on her couch, cradling a bottle of beer. The Great British Baking Show was on TV, but even the 3D novelty cake the contestants were making couldn’t capture her interest today.

  Snap out of it. So she kissed you, and now she’s avoiding you. Big deal. Ashley hadn’t come by the bakery today, but that was hardly a surprise. Avoidance was how Ashley dealt with problems, and that was why Sasha never should have kissed her back.

  Sasha snorted. She couldn’t not have kissed her back even if her life depended on it. Back in high school, she had wondered a time or two—okay, maybe two hundred—what kissing those soft-looking lips would be like. For once, reality didn’t just live up to her fantasies but even surpassed them. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Ashley would kiss with such intensity, as if she wanted to crawl inside Sasha’s skin to experience her even more closely.

  Just thinking about it now made her body temperature shoot up. She took a swig of beer and then grimaced because it had gone lukewarm.

  When the doorbell rang, she nearly dropped the bottle.

  Ashley! She scrambled upright and shoved the beer onto the coffee table, then stopped herself from dashing to the door. It would probably be Holly or one of the neighbors, not Ashley.

  But her heart was still beating faster as she walked to the door. Idiot.

  She peeked through the peephole.

  The first thing she saw was a bunch of flowers—Peruvian lilies, if she wasn’t mistaken. Then they were lowered, and Ashley’s face appeared.

  Wow. She came. That was the third time in twenty-four hours that Ashley had surprised her—first by starting a food fight and then… She shoved the thought away. It was better not to think about the last time Ashley had surprised her.

  But…flowers. Ashley had brought flowers. What did that mean? Was it just a florist thing, or was there more behind the gesture?

  Ashley leaned closer, as if trying to see through the peephole. Her shoulders lifted and fell beneath a long sigh before she turned and disappeared from view.

  No! Sasha wrenched the door open. “Wait!”

  Ashley froze, already halfway down the stairs. Slowly, she turned. “Oh. I thought maybe you weren’t home.”

  “I’m home.” Sasha grimaced inwardly. Yeah, genius, obviously you are, or she wouldn’t be able to talk to you.

  Ashley scraped the tip of her pink sneaker along the concrete step beneath her. “Um, can we talk?”

  With her heart hammering in her ears, Sasha nodded and opened the door wider. “Sure. Come in.”

  The Great British Baking Show was still blasting from the TV. It took her a minute to find the remote to switch it off.

  Silence filled the living room.

  “Oh.” Ashley thrust out the flowers as if only now remembering them. “For you.” Her hands were shaking.

  It eased Sasha’s own nerves to know that Ashley hadn’t been able to just brush off the kiss either. “Thank you. I’ll try my best not to let them die right away.” She took the flowers, carried them to her tiny kitchenette, and rooted through the cupboards for anything resembling a vase.

  “I think…um, I owe you an apology,” Ashley said, as if finding it easier to talk while Sasha wasn’t facing her.

  With her largest jug in hand, Sasha turned. She studied Ashley’s pale face. Dark shadows beneath her eyes revealed that she hadn’t slept much either, but to Sasha, she still looked lovely. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

  “Kissing you.” A blush brought color to Ashley’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have done that. And I especially shouldn’t have run out of there and left you to deal with the mess in the kitchen all by yourself.”

  Sasha looked her in the eyes. “I won’t lie. That hurt.”

  Ashley glanced away.

  “Well, not the kiss.” Sasha cracked a smile to ease the tension. “That didn’t hurt a bit, even though it did leave some parts of me aching.”

  Ashley’s blush intensified.

  Sasha was sure it extended all the way down to her toes. She tried to focus on the conversation instead of imagining what places the blush might be touching in between. “You running. That’s what hurt. It’s what my mother did to me and my dad when I was little.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here.” Ashley lifted her gaze with obvious effort. “I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

  Sasha needed a moment to process all the different emotions that statement brought. Appreciation won out, but only by an ounce. She removed the tissue paper from the flowers, put them into the jug she’d filled with water, and carried them to the coffee table. “Come on. Let’s sit.”

  Ashley followed her to the couch. Without taking off her jacket, she settled down on the opposite end of the couch and rearranged the bouquet in the improvised vase. It probably helped calm her, so Sasha let her do it.

  “Friendship,” Ashley said when she looked up from the flowers. “Um, I mean, the Peruvian lilies. That’s what they symbolize.”

  So the flowers were more than an apology. They were a message—one Sasha wasn’t entirely sure she was happy with.

  “I’ve known you practically all of my life,” Ashley added, “and for the past nine or ten years, I’ve seen you nearly every day in the bakery, but I never really saw you, if you know what I mean.”

  Sasha nodded, even though it had been different for her. She had noticed Ashley a little too much back in high school, but what she had admired back then had just been Ashley’s good looks and the way she got along with everyone. Now she was getting to know the person behind that mask.

  “Now that I finally do, you’re turning out to be an amazing friend. Someone I can be myself with, and that’s rare for me.” A look of almost desperate intensity flashed across Ashley’s face. Sasha had only seen that look once before—when she had kissed her. “I need that kind of friendship in my life, Sasha. I don’t want to do anything to endanger that.”

  “Friendship,” Sasha repeated. The word tasted bittersweet on her lips. “But you kissed me.”

  Ashley swallowed. “Yes. I did.” Her fingertips fluttered over her lips as if she wasn’t even aware of it. “I admit I find you attractive. I mean, look at you. Who wouldn’t?”

  Maybe Sasha should have been flattered, but at the moment, she couldn’t have cared less about other people finding her attractive.

  “But we’re adults,” Ashley said. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  The kiss hadn’t felt as if it didn’t mean a thing. But maybe that had just been her. “So that kiss was just…what? A meaningless bit of chemistry?”

  Ashley leaned back heavily, pulled the hair band from her ponytail, and let her hair tumble down around her face, like a curtain that was supposed to hide her feelings. “That kiss…” Her voice was a whisper. “…was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced.”

  Her words settled on Sasha, heavy with meaning. Immediately, she had to fight the urge to crawl across the couch and show her even more amazing things. Instead, she sought refuge in a joking remark. “Just one of the most amazing?”

  Ashley reached over and lightly pinched Sasha’s thigh. “Oh, don’t get cocky.”

  They smiled at each other, and Sasha tried her best to ignore the tingle shooting up from the place Ashley had touched.

  Ashley sobered, pushed her hair back behind her ear, and regarded her with a serious expression. “As amazing as the kiss was, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t start a relationship with you.”

  “Relationship?” Sasha echoed. “Who’s talking about a relationship? I’m
not sure I’m ready for the entire steak dinner either. But you said you’re not the pizza type, so maybe we could…I don’t know…just start with the appetizer. Maybe go on a date or something and see where that takes us.”

  Ashley looked just as startled as Sasha felt.

  Wow. Had she really just suggested that? And had she meant it? Was she ready to date, especially someone as complicated as Ashley, with the option of it becoming more? Appetizer, she reminded herself. Just think about the appetizer, not the entire meal.

  “Sasha…” Ashley sighed. “Even if that was what we both wanted, where would we go?”

  “Go?”

  “Yeah. On our date. We can’t go anywhere without people talking.”

  “Um, I don’t know. Where did you take Holly when you were dating?”

  “That’s the thing. We never went on a real date. I knew if we did, my parents would find out.” Ashley took a shuddery breath. “I can’t do that. I can’t lose them too.” She tugged on one of the lilies and removed a leaf that had been beneath the waterline. “That day…when Melissa…when she killed herself, it was my mother who found her. It was the week before Valentine’s Day, and she had taken me to the store to get card stock and glitter glue so I could make my own cards. When we got back, the house was strangely quiet. My mom went upstairs to check on Melissa. It took so long for her to return that I headed upstairs too.”

  Sasha knew the end of that story, of course, had heard it at least a dozen times from various people over the years. But hearing it from Ashley made her stomach hurt.

  “My mother urged me out of the room before I could see Melissa. But from the look on her face, I knew something horrible must have happened.” A tremor went through Ashley. “I still see that look on my parents’ faces sometimes, when they think I’m not paying attention. Not knowing why…why she killed herself, never finding any kind of closure…that keeps the pain alive, you know? I don’t want to cause my parents the same kind of pain.”

  The urge to take Ashley into her arms and to shelter her from that pain gripped her, but she wasn’t sure it would be welcome. “Do you…?” She had to clear her throat before she could continue. “Do you really think having a gay daughter would be the same for them as having a daughter who…a daughter who died?”