Amongst The Wildflowers (Fleurs d'Amour Book 3)

by Amali Rose

  She then launches into a forty-five-minute tirade that has me pitying her unsuspecting boss.

  I never did get any food.

  Later that afternoon, I’ve got my ass planted on the sofa, ESPN on the TV and I’m chowing down on some mac and cheese when Mia comes storming in.

  “I’m going to kill him!”

  This statement should worry me. Or at the very least, cause my eyes to leave the television screen. It does neither.

  You see, Seth and Mia have this strange kind of love/hate, fight/fuck relationship. But it seems to work for them, and I’ve given up trying to figure it out.

  “Do you know what he did? Do you have any idea what that idiot did?”

  I continue eating, smart enough to realize that my input in this conversation is completely unnecessary.

  “He got a life-size cardboard cut-out of himself made. Naked, mind you. Naked! Holding a picture of me, me, in front of his tiny little dick, and left it in the dorm’s bathroom. Everyone saw it. Everyone! Now, they all think I’m dating an insane person.” She flops down on the recliner across the room. “I should cut his dick off, that’s what I should do.”

  It’s this comment, said in a malicious whisper, that finally gets my attention.

  “Please, don’t. I don’t need that kind of drama in my life,” I respond wryly.

  She’s staring off into space, a glazed expression on her face, and I watch her unabashedly, wondering if she’s fantasizing about Seth’s death and just how painful she’s planning on making it.

  “Ugh, I won’t. His dick is actually huge and he’s really good with it, so I would just be punishing myself.”

  I choke on my mac and cheese and grab for my water on the coffee table as my eyes tear up. After swallowing half the bottle down, I gasp for air before hitting Mia with my most ball-busting glare. “Don’t ever, and I mean ever, talk about one guy’s dick to another guy. Jesus, I could’ve choked!”

  She snorts out a laugh. “Funny, I said exactly the same thing last night.”

  I groan loudly, and she cackles as I try to erase the unwanted images of her deepthroating Seth from my mind. Someone pass the fucking eye bleach.

  “What have you got planned for tonight?”

  My mouth pulls down in a frown, her question reminding me of Layla and Bradshaw’s date.

  “Nothing,” I reply sulkily.

  “Want to come out with us? We’re going to check out Trent’s birthday party.”

  “You make it sound like a ten-year-old’s party,” I scoff.

  “Well, excuse me, douchebag. Consider the offer rescinded.”

  I cringe at her tone and hate myself a little more for being so rude to her.

  “Sorry. I’m just not up for going out tonight.”

  She looks at me curiously. “This have something to do with Layla?”

  A scowl falls across my face at her question. “She’s going out with Bradshaw tonight.”

  Mia jumps up excitedly, rushing over to take a seat on the sofa beside me, her legs curled underneath her, and blatant interest scrawled over her face. “So, what’s the deal with you two? Like, did you used to date and now you’re trying the friends thing? ‘Cause there’s definitely a vibe between you.”

  “Nope, never dated, best friends who lost touch for a while, that’s it.”

  Her eyes zero in on me suspiciously. “Nuh-uh, not buying it. You two have the zing.”

  “The zing?” I sneer. “What the hell is the zing?”

  Mia sighs loudly and looks at me as though she hasn’t had to deal with this level of stupid before. “The zing is when you can tell that two people want to rip each other’s clothes off, just by looking at them. It’s chemistry, Ethan, and you two? You’ve got it.”

  I lean forward, place my empty bowl on the coffee table and turn my body so I’m fully facing her. “Look, the thing is, I’ve been in love with her since the day I saw her lying in a field, crying her eyes out. I was four and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Even with puffy eyes and snot trails. But she’s never felt that way about me, and I’m doing my best to be okay with that, so hearing shit like that doesn’t help me.” I shrug.

  Mia is watching me, her brow furrowed in concern. “That’s so sad.” She smirks at me. “But also, completely untrue.”

  I shake my head and decide the only way to make her see sense is to give her the whole uncensored story. I lay out all my cards, explaining how my feelings grew over the years, how it felt seeing her never shine the way she deserved to. How many fights I got into, and threats I handed out, defending her to ignorant douches who never could see what she worked so hard to hide. I told her how hurt I was when Layla blew me off for the prom and how hard it was to watch her with someone else. I shared it all. Even my supreme asshole-ishness when I ghosted on her so epically.

  I watched as her expression morphed from one of sympathy to one of frustration and finally anger.

  When I’m finally all storied out, we sit in silence. Me, exhausted from spilling my guts and her, well, I think in disbelief.

  Mia looks up at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

  “So, yeah, she’s never felt that way about me. If she had, I definitely would know.”

  A small smile teases her lips, and she shakes her head slowly. “You poor deluded fool.” She stands, stretching tall and working the kinks out of her long, lean body before walking toward the kitchen.

  Pausing, she stands in the doorway, folding her arms across her chest. “You should try and see her tonight, after her date. Make sure you’re the one she’s thinking about when her head hits her pillow.” She shakes her head again, and a gentle laugh escapes her as she walks away. “God, your grandchildren are going to love that story.”

  Layla

  Evie tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, a serious look on her face before declaring, “Perfect.”

  I stand in front of the full-length mirror on the back of our door, taking in my reflection and wish I could muster the same enthusiasm.

  “You look gorgeous, Lay. Michael’s gonna come in his pants the second he sees how hot you look tonight.” I grimace at her crude assessment. She sounds so assured and I envy her confidence in me.

  “It’ll do,” I reply with a shrug. It’s the best I can do.

  “Ugh, whatever.” Rolling her eyes, she pushes me toward the bed, sits me down and begins spraying me generously, with her favorite perfume.

  I cough and wave my hands around desperately as my lungs burn each time I inhale another mouthful of toxic air.

  “Enough! That’s enough!” She looks at me innocently before replacing the cap and putting the bottle away.

  “Are you nervous?”

  Her question rattles me. I had gone to my happy place where nerves can’t reach me, a subtle numbness enveloping me, but her question drags me back to reality and forces me to consider what I’m about to do.

  “Do you think he was right?”

  Evie’s face pinches in confusion. “Do I think who was right about what?”

  “Ethan. Do you think he was right when he said Michael’s only trying to get to him by dating me?”

  “Okay, let me start this by saying that I am Team Ethan.” My eyes narrow in confusion. “Don’t look at me like that. That boy is into you, and I am fully on board with Layhan becoming a thing.”

  “Layhan?”

  She holds a finger up, effectively silencing me. “Don’t interrupt. But until you both pull your heads out of your asses and make that happen, I’m all for you going out and having fun. And maybe Michael did only notice you because of Ethan, because God knows you’re not out there flaunting your wares for all the guys to see, but do I think he’s dating you just to piss Ethan off? No, I don’t.” She takes a deep breath before continuing with a mischievous smirk. “That’s just an added bonus.”

  Her little speech has thoroughly confused me, so I grasp onto the completely ridiculous.

  “Layhan?�
�

  A knock on the door saves Evie from answering, and she practically falls over herself to get to it. Before turning the doorknob, she turns to me and mouths, “You ready?” I stand up and nod, my brain still not fully caught up after her spiel.

  Michael steps into our room and his eyes widen slightly as he takes me in.

  I self-consciously smooth my hands down my black sweater dress that ends mid-thigh and hugs my many curves in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.

  “You look incredible, Layla.” He smiles at me appreciatively, and I feel a little bit of my anxiety melt away. “You ready to go?”

  I smile with more confidence than I’m feeling and reach out to take his proffered hand.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Belladonna is fancy. Much fancier than I’m used to, but I can’t deny the elegant restaurant has a warmth that evokes romance and intimacy. The ideal place for both a first date or a twenty-year anniversary dinner, it really is perfect.

  “This place is beautiful.” My voice holds a note of reverence and I can’t stop my eyes bouncing around, trying to take everything in.

  “Yeah, my sister recommended it, it’s her favorite restaurant.”

  My face warms at the idea of him going to his sister about our date. “Well, color me impressed. Although, I am surprised you had to get tips from your sister. I would’ve thought you would know all the best places to impress the girls.”

  “Meh, I don’t date much.” He cringes slightly when he realizes what he just said. I smile brightly in an attempt to put his mind at ease. His slut status is well known on campus, but I’m not one to shame a person, so long as they’re not hurting anybody.

  “Calm down, cowboy, I choose to be flattered by that statement.” I snort.

  He eyes me curiously. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”

  I immediately tamp down my inner voice. She’s a nasty witch and I’m trying to learn to ignore her.

  “Thanks?” I question drolly.

  “No, shit, sorry. I just mean, you seem so quiet and you kinda keep to yourself. I don’t think you had ever actually looked at me before that morning in the coffee shop. I guess I kind of thought you might be a bit stuck up?”

  I unconsciously flinch at his observation. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it still stings, and I can’t help the wave of shame that washes over me. Nobody wants people to think they’re an uppity snob.

  “I’m shy, that’s all. It’s hard for me to get to know people.” I try to keep my voice from shaking.

  “You seem to know Miller pretty well.” He’s arching a brow at me, but there’s no antagonism there, only playful curiosity, and I relax slightly.

  “I’ve known Ethan practically my whole life.” Now it’s my turn to challenge him. “Is that the only reason you asked me out? To annoy him?”

  Michael has the good grace to duck his head in embarrassment.

  “Honestly? That was the plan. He was giving off all kinds of fuck off vibes that morning in the coffee shop, and I don’t like him, so I figured flirting with you would be an easy way to piss him off.” He pauses briefly and my inner voice slash witch, starts to whisper, ‘I told you so.’

  “But that night at Hound Dog, you were different. Watching you with your friend and Miller, you were funny and relaxed.” He shrugs. “You seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. Pissing Miller off is just the icing on the cake. Scout’s honor.” He holds his right hand up in the universal sign, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  I consider what he said and realize that I’m not entirely surprised and I think I can live with his explanation.

  “Plus, you’re hot as fuck and that’s always good for the rep.” He winks at me across the table, and I groan before we both dissolve into laughter.

  Maybe tonight will be more fun than I had expected.

  “I just can’t believe that ending.” I shake my head, still reeling from the surprise ending of the movie.

  Michael chuckles beside me, his warm hand holding mine as we stroll across campus, making our way back to my dorm.

  “I still can’t believe you wanted to see Infinity War. I was all set to suffer through some cheesy rom-com.”

  The leaves crunch beneath our feet and the sight of my breath puffing out in a small cloud highlights the chill in the air. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, but despite all of this, there is a warmth spreading through me at the memory of tonight’s date and how well it has gone.

  Michael one-on-one isn’t nearly as overwhelming as he is in a group of his fawning groupies. He’s actually quite charming and endearing, in a boyish kind of way.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I scoff. “Plenty of girls love those movies.” I pause briefly. “But I do love a good rom-com too.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough, I can admit when I’m wrong.” He huffs out a laugh and a shiver races up my spine. Mistaking it for a chill, Michael releases my hand, throwing his arm around me and pulling me in close to him. His body heat immediately warms me, but also fills me with a slight sense of discomfort that I’m at a loss to explain.

  Two minutes ago, his laugh was giving me the shivers, so why does his touch feel so wrong?

  I spend the remainder of our short walk trying to get out of my head and focus on enjoying Michael’s company.

  Coming to a stop in front of my building, he turns and pulls my body close to his.

  “I had a great time tonight.” A small smile plays on his lips, and my breath hitches as I realize that I have no desire to kiss him. Ridiculously, I feel the burn of tears as I try to figure out why, only a month ago the thought of kissing him made my pulse race, and my thighs clench, but right now? It just fills me with dread.

  Giving myself a mental shake, I pull myself together enough to respond.

  “I did, too.” I force a smile and pray he can’t see right through me.

  Turns out he can’t because the next thing I know, he is leaning down and brushing a kiss across my lips. His mouth moves against mine, sweetly, definitely not what I expected from a Michael Bradshaw kiss, and despite my hesitation, I find myself responding. With my eyes closed, I allow myself to fall into the kiss and press my body closer to his, as Ethan’s hands – wait, what?

  My eyes snap open and I pull back in shock to find Michael, not Ethan, staring down at me, a hint of confusion in his expression.

  My cheeks flush, this time in embarrassment rather than with a chill, and I take a step away from him. His arms fall to his side, but he rallies quickly.

  “I’ll call you?”

  I nod slightly. “Sure.” I try to sound enthusiastic, but my head is too confused to fake it. Doing my best to appear unaffected, I throw him a smile and turn toward my dorm.

  My mind is racing as I make my way back to my room. I consider myself pretty self-aware and I know I’m not over Ethan. But I also know I’ve been crushing on Michael Bradshaw for months. So, why can’t my heart let me enjoy the guy who is interested in me, rather than pine over the guy I can never have?

  Sighing, I push my door open and gasp in shock.

  Ethan

  “Hey, Bug, how’s it going?”

  Her eyes practically pop out of her head before skimming their way along my body, which is casually reclined on her bed, her laptop propped on my knees, an old episode of The Office playing.

  Her shoulders sag slightly in defeat and she makes her way toward the bed, silently.

  “Move over.” She attempts to push me aside, but considering I have a foot and a hundred pounds on her, she fails miserably. Being the gentleman I am, I scoot over, making enough room for her to lie down.

  “You should stop calling me that, you know.”

  “What? Bug?” Like fuck, I’ll stop. “Why?”

  “It makes me sound like a five-year-old,” she replies sulkily, and I have to fight back a laugh.

  “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?�
�� Her voice is laced with suspicion, but I ignore it, holding out a hand impatiently.

  “Just hand it over.”

  “Ugh, fine. Here.” She thrusts her phone at me, and I bite my lip, willing my body not to react to her pouty expression.

  I quickly pull up her lock screen and fight back an exclamation of triumph when I see it. A close-up picture of two ladybugs, crawling along the stem of a beautiful wildflower. She has been obsessed with ladybugs since we were kids and was constantly dragging me through the field behind her house, searching for them.

  I have so many memories connected to those tiny-ass ladybugs, so, no. I will never stop calling her Bug. No matter how sexy she looks, pouting at me like that.

  “Never gonna happen.” I hand her phone back and turn my attention back to the laptop. It’s the Christmas episode when Jim has bought Pam a teapot and filled it with surprises, including a note confessing his feelings. But his plan to give it to her is thwarted when Steve Carell’s character insists on playing “Yankee Swap” instead of sticking to Secret Santa.

  Layla reaches out to move the screen slightly, and then curls into my side, her head on my shoulder. I can’t remember how many times we lay like this over the years, but I do remember it stopped abruptly the night my dick could no longer control itself when a half-asleep Layla pressed her body into mine, a little too intimately.

  “You know, I have no idea how Pam was so clueless. It’s so obvious Jim’s in love with her and they’re perfect for each other. What’s she thinking wasting her time with Roy?”

  I want to laugh at the irony of this but can’t quite manage it. Instead, I nod noncommittally.

  “So, how was your date tonight?” I do my best to sound unbothered, but Layla knows me too well and turns slightly, giving me the side-eye.

  “Really? You really want to talk about my date, or do you just want an excuse to moan about Michael?”

  I close my eyes and squeeze them shut for a moment. Friendship, I tell myself. Don’t be an asshole, she’s your friend, be supportive.