Amongst The Wildflowers (Fleurs d'Amour Book 3)

by Amali Rose

  “Wait, wait.” She laughs. “Give me a second.”

  I blatantly watch her as she straightens her clothes and runs a brush through her hair, my eyes devouring every inch of her. I have no idea how we ended up here today, but I’m thankful we did, and I’ll do whatever I have to, to make sure I don’t fuck it up.

  “Ready.” She takes my hand and we begin to walk to the door, but I stop her as she reaches for the handle and press her against the wall.

  “We’ll figure this out. I promise I won’t ruin us, Bug.”

  She smiles softly before standing on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth to mine.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Ethan?” Her tongue sneaks out and steals a taste of my lips. “I’ve been waiting for you to ruin me for the longest time.”

  Layla

  How did this happen? How did this day go from a nightmare to a dream?

  I’m still trying to process everything that has happened over the last half hour. The words, the touching, the kissing, oh good Lord the kissing. He exceeded every single fantasy I’ve ever had about him. And trust me, I’ve had a lot of them.

  Although, there will be consequences for the stupid comments.

  I’m currently being pulled toward the parking lot, and when I glance at Ethan, he has the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. I still can’t quite believe I’m the one that put it there.

  “Quit staring at me, Lay.” His voice rouses me from my not-so-subtle admiration.

  “Ugh, get over yourself, I was looking at that guy behind you, he’s hot.” Ethan’s face contorts and his eyes cloud over. He whips his head around and scowls at the poor guy behind him. This is so weird.

  Releasing my hand, he slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in tight. This is something he has done a thousand times over the years, but there’s something so different about this touch. Like he’s claiming me, which is ludicrous, and something I really shouldn’t like the idea of so much.

  “How about Delilah’s?”

  My mouth immediately starts to water at the idea of one of their burgers. Delilah’s is a low-key diner tucked away in a scummy-looking alley, only a few blocks away from campus. It might not look like much, but the food is to die for.

  “Oh, God, yes please,” I groan.

  Ethan stops in his tracks, looking down at me with an expression I can’t quite identify.

  “Say that again.”

  I roll my eyes, laughing at his demand. “C’mon, you should know by now the way to a chubby girl’s heart is through her stomach. Feed me.”

  I start walking but am held back when the arm around my shoulders stays attached to the very non-moving, very annoyed-looking guy beside me.

  “Don’t do that.”

  My heart sinks a little when I realize what I said. “It was just a joke, Ethan, relax. Let’s go.” I try to pull him forward, but he stands resolute.

  “It wasn’t a joke and we both know it. I’ve never let you pull that shit with me before, I don’t know why you think I’m going to start now.”

  He’s right, he never has, always calling me out any time I use self-deprecation as a shield. Which, honestly, annoys the hell out of me. It’s my best defense mechanism, and when I’m stripped of it, I’m left feeling way too vulnerable.

  Just like now.

  “Fine.”

  He smirks down at me while I glower right back at him. Seriously, sometimes people that know you too well are a pain in the butt.

  “Good, let’s go, then.”

  We change our direction slightly since we can walk to Delilah’s and make our way there, hand in hand.

  Ethan chats away throughout the entire walk and it turns out he’s pretty touchy-feely with the girls he dates, because he spends an inordinate amount of time with his hands on me. Running his hand up and down my back, playing with my hair and teasing along the back of my neck with his fingertips. Every touch has my body humming in anticipation.

  I can’t deny that our exchange has rattled me, though, and instead of concentrating on the wonderful strangeness of his intimate caresses, I find myself scanning everyone we pass, looking for the sneers, or laughter I expect at the sight of us together.

  It occurs to me that I never felt this way with Michael, but I quickly realize it’s because he was never particularly tactile with me, at least not in public. To passers-by, we would have simply looked like friends.

  After a ten-minute walk that feels like an eternity, we make our way into the diner. It’s relatively quiet, which pleases me, but it’s still pretty early. I have no doubt it’ll be packed in an hour or two.

  “What about that booth over there?” Ethan points to a table over in the corner and I nod, happy that it’s slightly out of the way.

  We get settled and the waitress comes to take our order before we have a chance to talk. She goes straight to Ethan because let’s face it, she’s a woman and she has eyes.

  “I’ll have fried chicken, the loaded cheese fries and a chocolate shake, thanks.” He glances across at me. “Bacon cheeseburger, no pickle or tomato, sweet potato fries and a caramel frappe?”

  I can’t help but laugh softly at his eagerness to impress me. Have I mentioned how weird this is?

  I hold my thumb and forefinger up, so they’re only millimeters apart. “So close,” I answer and turn to the waitress. “Peach iced tea instead of the frappe, please.”

  She nods, noting our orders down before turning to leave, but not before she throws a little wink Ethan’s way. I roll my eyes.

  The silence that follows feels a bit awkward, as though we’ve both realized this is supposed to be a date and we don’t do that. Date, I mean. Although, I guess we do now. Huh, how about that. So weird.

  I miss the confidence I felt back in my dorm room. It all seemed so straightforward twenty minutes ago. I also miss his mouth on me, but that’s another subject entirely.

  “Are you ready for Halloween?” His voice snaps me out of my melancholy thoughts and I shake my head.

  “I haven’t even thought about it. Evie normally drags me to Greek Row and we party hop.” I grimace. “It’s awful.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t really sound like your thing.” He laughs. “She won’t mind if I tag along, will she?”

  “Uh, no I don’t think so.” I purse my lips. “She’s kind of a fan of yours.”

  “Ah, she’s a smart girl, that one. So, I promised Emme I would take her trick or treating, you want to come with us? I know she’d love to see you.”

  “Yeah, I’d love to. I actually owe her a bag of gummy worms.”

  “Why?”

  “Last time I was there, I bet her she couldn’t rub her tummy and pat her head at the same time.” I shake my head in amusement at the memory. “I’m pretty sure she hustled me.”

  “Wait, when did you see Emme?” he asks in confusion.

  “When I was home on break.”

  “Oh, you ran into her?”

  “No.” I try to keep the exasperation from my voice. “I went to see her. I visit Emme and your mom and dad whenever I’m home.”

  I don’t know what I’ve said that’s so shocking, but he’s staring at me as if he has no idea what to say.

  Thankfully, we’re interrupted by the arrival of our food. We spend the next forty-five minutes planning our Halloween; trick or treating followed by parties later that night, and I have to admit I’m not sure how to feel about this ‘date.’

  On the one hand, I’m relieved that our earlier confessions haven’t made things awkward. But, on the other hand, now that we’re sitting here, it’s feeling remarkably like every other meal we’ve shared over the years.

  I don’t know what I expected, but I think it was more than this.

  “What’s going on in there?” He reaches across the table and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and gently taps my temple.

  “This is weird.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yeah, but that’s why it’s weir
d. Don’t you think after what happened, things should be a little strange?”

  He considers what I’ve said and continues to stuff his face with cheese fries.

  Finally, he points a fry at me and asks, “You know what I think?”

  “That’s kind of why I asked, Millhouse.”

  “Have you ever noticed that you only call me Millhouse when you’re annoyed? I’m beginning to think it’s not the term of endearment I always believed it was. But—” he shoves the fry in his mouth, “—I digress. I don’t think our relationship is really going to change.”

  I open my mouth to point out the bright, shiny, flashing flaw in his argument, but he cuts me off.

  “Think about it. I’ve been in love with you for years.” I wiggle in my seat, uncomfortable with how casually he keeps throwing around the ‘L’ word. “And you’ve had feelings for me for years, right?” He smiles broadly at my nod. “So, nothing has actually changed for us, we’ve just stopped being stupid and admitted it.”

  I raise my eyebrows and glare at him. “You really think nothing is going to change?” I snort incredulously.

  “Of course things are going to change, Bug. But, we’re not.”

  He gets up and moves around the table so that he’s sitting beside me.

  “Like, whenever you think I’m being completely ridiculous you do this thing with your lips, and I always want to do this.” He leans over and loosely cradles my throat with his hand, before biting down on my bottom lip and swiping his tongue along it to soothe the sting.

  I instinctively relax into his touch, needing so much more than he can give me in the middle of a bustling diner.

  “We’re going to be fine,” he whispers.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  And with all the confidence in the world, he responds, “Because I won’t let us not be.”

  The music is too loud and there are too many bodies cramped in a too small space, but somehow, I’m actually having fun. Believe me, I’m surprised too.

  I giggle as Evie pulls out some wicked dance moves in an attempt to entice me to dance with her.

  Ethan pulls me in closer to him, so my back is flush up against his front and leans down to whisper in my ear.

  “You should go and dance, baby, I’d definitely like to watch that.” His voice, all growly and sexy, tickles my ear and holds a note of hunger.

  I stare at him, with his ridiculous Harry Potter-style glasses and lightning bolt scar drawn on his forehead and wonder how I got this lucky. This last week has been amazing and to be honest, I’m still kind of in shock.

  There has been a lot of talking, an abundance of confessions and I’ve spent the week vacillating between complete happiness and overwhelming sadness. Every intimate touch and whispered endearment is counterbalanced by an intense feeling of loss for the years we missed out on. It makes me so damn mad that Ethan was right. We were so very stupid.

  But we’ve made it. We’re where we want to be now, and Ethan was, once again, right. Although I’ll never admit that to his face. Our relationship really hasn’t changed too much. The big difference is the touching. So much touching. Swoony, thigh-clenching, panty-melting touching.

  “Where’d you just go?”

  Leaning back against him, I sigh softly as his soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Somewhere really, really nice.”

  “Ugh, you two are disgusting.” Evie grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Come. I need to pee.”

  I notice she doesn’t give a second look to her date for the night, which disappoints me.

  Jonathan is a cute, gamer geek who plays alongside Ethan, and I was hopeful she might like him. Because, well, double dates and all that.

  We make our way to the off-limits downstairs bathroom Ethan told us about, and I’m grateful we’re in Ethan’s teammates’ frat house so we can avoid the lines of people doing who knows what, in the upstairs bathrooms.

  I keep my back turned while Evie pees, and we chat idly while I reapply my lip gloss.

  “What do you think of Jonathan?”

  “Meh, he’s okay, I guess.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek at her answer. “But he’s not Tyler?”

  I hear the toilet flush and she appears beside me. “Nobody is like Tyler Bailey.” Her face softens at the mention of his name, and I send up a silent prayer that she gets her chance with him.

  “So, I can tell Ethan to stop with the setups?”

  “Oh, hell no. I still need to have a little fun while Tyler figures his shit out, and I am in no way opposed to doing that with hot football players.” She dries her hands on the paper towels so thoughtfully left out at the sink. I guess hand towels are too high class for frat boys.

  “Oh God, please don’t tell him that. He’s convinced that he’s destined to be some kind of matchmaker extraordinaire. When you agreed to go out with Jonathan tonight, he tried to make me call him Mr. Romance.”

  We spend a few minutes engaging in some trivial gossip and laughing over our Minions costumes. The fitted yellow t-shirt, black suspenders, and short jean-shorts were the perfect compromise between her desire to be sexy and my need to be comfortable.

  Our voices echo through the narrow stairway as we make our way back to the party, but it dies on our lips at the sight that greets us.

  Ethan is being held back by three of his teammates, a trickle of blood sliding down his chin and a feral look in his eye.

  On the floor, holding his jaw and with a bloody nose, is Michael.

  “What were you thinking?”

  It took five guys, Evie, and me to drag him out of the party. Michael was intent on provoking a fight and we left with his vile comments ringing in our ears.

  “I was thinking that the guy’s a dickhead and he deserved to be pounded.” Ethan’s voice is petulant, and I know he’s annoyed we put an end to the fight before it really began.

  “Yes, he is, and yes, he does. But not by you. Let’s leave the pounding to karma, ‘kay?”

  We’re in his apartment and he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, my discarded suspenders and his Harry Potter glasses beside him, his bare feet swinging. I reach up to dab some ointment on the small cut along his bottom lip, trying to hide my amusement at his pout.

  “So, what happened anyway? Why’d you start something with him?” I steel myself for what’s to come, knowing Ethan would only behave like that in defense of his family, or me.

  His face clouds over, but when his eyes meet mine it clears, and the familiar look of mischief replaces it. He shakes his head and slides down off the counter, looming over me. The air in the room suddenly shifts.

  His nose grazes along mine and his mouth is inches from my own.

  “Hi,” he whispers.

  My core pulses at that one word and I have to suppress the urge to push my body into his, seeking the friction I need.

  While there has been a lot of touching these past five days, we haven’t crossed that line yet.

  Five days. I can’t believe it’s only been five days. I never believed I would be ready to sleep with someone after only five days, to make myself that vulnerable. But there is no one I trust more than Ethan, and with his body so close to mine, his breath mingling with my own, I’m about ready to jump him.

  “Hi.”

  His lips crash against mine and my mouth opens on a sigh. Goosebumps break out across my skin when his tongue finds mine, teasing and tasting.

  My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer and his hands slide down my body, shamelessly groping until he has a handful of butt and he grinds our pelvises together, causing little zings of electricity to pop in all the good spots.

  He lifts my feet off the ground and heads in the direction of his room, never once breaking the connection our mouths have created.

  Slamming the door behind us with his foot, he gently places me down and breaks the kiss. We’ve made out a lot this week, but something about this feels different. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.<
br />
  “Is this okay?” His voice is thick, as though talking is difficult, and I bite my lip as I consider his question. Is this okay? It’s more than okay.

  “Yes.”

  His hands are back on me in a flash, pulling at my clothes until they find the warmth of my skin and he exhales a ragged breath. I can see him attempting to get himself under control, so I take a step back putting some distance between us.

  Slowly, I pull my t-shirt over my head, kick my Converse off my feet and shimmy out of my jean shorts. A shiver travels down my spine, initially from the chill in the air, but when I see the look in his eyes, it turns into a ripple of anticipation.

  I stand before him in my pink cotton panties and black lace bra, the one with the small rip along the edge of the lace cup, and his eyes roam all over my body. I feel a twinge of self-consciousness at his blatant perusal.

  “I wasn’t expecting this to happen. I would have worn something sluttier if I had known.” I try to disguise my nervousness with bravado.

  Finding his voice, he replies, “Slutty, huh? I’m not sure you could ever look slutty, Bug. You’re too sweet.” His eyes alight with kind humor.

  I feel an intense pang of doubt overwhelm me. I want Ethan to want me. I want him to crave me the way I crave him, and I’m scared he’s right; I’m not sure I could ever be that girl. But I refuse to let insecurity spoil this moment.

  “I could be slutty if I wanted to be.” My voice is quietly defiant, and his answering smirk riles me. Before I can get too inside my head, he steps forward, crowding me and invading my space.

  He leans down, running his nose along my jaw and my knees almost buckle as he overwhelms all my senses.

  “You wanna be slutty, Bug?” His lips kiss a path toward my ear. “You want to be my little slut? Just for me?” Teeth bite down on my lobe, sending a jolt straight to my core. “Only for me?”

  I can’t breathe. His proximity and the filthy things he’s saying leave me capable of one word only.

  “Please.”

  Ethan