Amongst The Wildflowers (Fleurs d'Amour Book 3)

by Amali Rose

  “Yes, I want to know how it went,” I force out. “I promise to overlook his douchiness and be a supportive friend.”

  She groans loudly, and my dick twitches at the sound. Jesus, I need to get that under control quickly.

  “You’re a pain in the butt, you know that?” She slaps me playfully on the chest. “Okay, well, it was good, I guess. He took me to a great restaurant; the food was awesome, and then we went and saw the new Avengers movie. It was fun.”

  I suppress a grimace. “That’s good.”

  Her laugh fills the room, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that this friends thing is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Because damn if the sound of her laughter doesn’t have my cock hardening.

  “That was the least convincing ‘that’s good’ I’ve ever heard.”

  “It is good. I’m not an asshole, Lay. I want you to be happy.” I can’t help adding, “Even if I have no idea how he could make you happy.”

  She snorts, and fuck, I’ve missed that sound. “You never did like any guy I dated, so I actually think you’re doing well, considering how much you hate him.” She rolls over onto her side, so she’s facing me. “Why exactly do you hate him so much?”

  I debate how to answer her question honestly, remembering every time Bradshaw has bragged about all the pussy he pounds. How he cruelly belittles the girls who sleep with him to a locker room full of horny jocks, offering up their phone numbers, as well as disgusting commentary on their sexual abilities, like some kind of prize.

  In an attempt to appear impartial, I offer a casual, “Just a personality clash, I guess,” while already planning how I’ll kill the motherfucker if I ever hear him talk about Layla like that.

  “What about you?”

  Her question throws me. “What about me, what?”

  “What about you and girls? Are you seeing anyone? What have I missed?”

  My stomach drops at the idea of telling her about the insanity of my first year at college. How I tried to fuck her out of my system with any willing girl. The desperation I felt when all that did was exacerbate the problem, leaving me feeling empty and pathetically alone.

  Making a conscious decision to leave that information in the past, where it belongs, I give her the censored version.

  “Nothing serious. I dated a few girls, but nothing took. I’m still looking for my Pam, I guess.”

  At the sound of my words, her eyes flick back to the screen and she slaps my stomach, her hand a little too close to my waistband for my comfort.

  “This bit makes me so sad.” I follow her gaze to the laptop screen where Jim is finally giving Pam her teapot, but he covertly sneaks his love note into his pocket.

  “Ugh, why doesn’t he just tell her? It’s so frustrating!”

  “You don’t think it would be terrifying to tell your best friend you love them?” The question has left my mouth before I even realize the thought.

  “Oh God, no, in real life you should never do it. That’s a sure-fire way to ruin a friendship. But this is television, so, yes, Jim should totally sac up and declare his love.”

  And if I ever wondered if Layla and I could possibly ever happen, I have my answer.

  The noise of the locker room is suffocating and that combined with the number of dicks flying around today, I can’t wait to get out of the building.

  “How fucking cool was that?” Seth exclaims. “Using your dick as a puppet? Fucking genius!”

  “I don’t even want to think about what Taylor was searching for when he discovered that video.” Referring to the YouTube video of a couple of Australian guys who do a puppet show with their dicks, I shake my head and snicker. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned by their ingenuity.” I use my shoulder to give him a shove. “I do know that I could have done without all you assholes trying to copy their moves. I’m pretty sure I’m scarred for life after seeing that.”

  “Dude, you loved it, I know you’re always looking for an excuse to see my junk.”

  “Not even your girlfriend wants to see your junk, man, maybe you should start keeping it in your pants. Keep some mystery.”

  “Whatever, Miller.” He leans over and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Catch ya later.”

  Christ, why the hell am I friends with him? Right, he had a spare room to rent. Although, with his lack of boundaries, it’s becoming clear why he goes through so many roommates.

  “Ethan?”

  I look over my shoulder to the small voice that’s calling my name and try to hide my annoyance when I see Tash walking toward me.

  “Hey, Tash. What’s up?”

  She falls into step beside me and when she matches my strides, I notice for the first time, how tall she is. Risking a sideways glance, I admire her long, toned legs, but immediately kick myself when she catches me, laughing lightly, and slips her arm through mine, holding on tight.

  “Go ahead and look. I have great legs, they deserve to be admired.” She giggles, but I can’t help thinking it feels rehearsed and it sucks away the tiny granule of respect I felt for her confidence.

  Coughing, I look away. “Did you want something?”

  “Yes. Are you ready to agree to a date, yet? I heard Layla say you wanted to see that Chris Evans movie, and I’m psyched to see it, too.” She arches a perfect brow at me. “You up for it?”

  I choose to ignore her innuendo, instead zeroing in on the part of her sentence that actually interests me.

  “Layla was talking about me?” Jesus, I hope I don’t sound like as much of a pussy as I think I do.

  Tash stops in her tracks, our arms still entwined so I’m pulled backward, and she stares at me incredulously. Okay, yeah, I guess you can call me Pussy Boy.

  “What?” My voice is rough with embarrassment. This chick is the last person I want to know about my feelings for Layla.

  Shaking her head, she smirks at me and I get the distinct impression that Tash has a conniving side she would have no problem utilizing if needed. And I’m not going to lie. That makes me nervous as fuck.

  “Nothing, nothing at all.” She laughs. “Okay, so I’m guessing a date is out of the question, then. What about a fuck?”

  I whip my head around, eyes wide and pretty much choke on my own spit as her words sink in.

  She laughs again, a slightly mocking snigger that causes my hackles to rise.

  “Fuck, Ethan. We should fuck.” She sighs dramatically. “Look, I get that you’re into Layla.” I start to argue, but she barrels on. “I mean I’m not going to lie, I don’t get it. She’s very sweet, but she’s kinda blah if you ask me.”

  Those hackles that had risen? They’re fucking jumping in anger now.

  “Jesus, aren’t you supposed to be her friend? She’s so fucking far from blah, and if you really knew her, you’d fucking know that.” I’m beyond pissed right now, and when she throws her hands up in mock surrender and widens her eyes innocently, I’m ready to leave this bitch in the dust.

  “Of course I’m her friend!” She has the nerve to chastise me. “I just want her to be the best she can be.” Tash rolls her eyes and nudges me with her elbow, as though we’re fucking BFFs. “She never listens to me though.”

  Thank Christ for that, I can’t help thinking.

  “Well, speak of the devil and she appears.”

  I ignore the hardness in Tash’s tone as I look up to see Layla and Evie walking into the dining hall.

  I immediately head in their direction, determined to continue the headway I made the other night. It was the closest we’d come to feeling like old times and I was intent on not backsliding.

  “Hey, we’re not done here, Ethan!” she calls to my retreating back. She sounds all kinds of irritated, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.

  “Yeah, we are.”

  Layla

  “Hey! Layla! Evie! Wait up!”

  I look over my shoulder and see Ethan jogging our way. The start of a smile sneaks across my lips, but it
stops abruptly when I notice Tash right behind him, trying to keep up with a look of annoyance plastered all over her face.

  I hate the twinge of jealousy that shoots through me as I imagine them together.

  I ignore the painful stab of emotion and lean into Ethan’s touch as he pulls me into a side hug.

  “Have either of you started that art history paper yet?” He shakes his head ruefully. “I’ve got to admit, I thought that class would be a cakewalk, but I’m kinda worried it’s gonna kick my ass.”

  I give him a playful shove and laugh. Ethan has never struggled with classes, it’s one of his most infuriating qualities.

  “Just think of all the incredible buildings you’ll design after everything you learn in this course. You’ll be the most sought-after architect in New York.”

  “Just New York?” he teases.

  “To begin with.” I nod seriously. “But then your reputation will grow and people will come from all around the world to have you design majestic buildings that they’ll then brag about to all of their rich friends. Dude, you are going to be famous!” I partner my last sentence with a huge cheesy grin, remembering how much Ethan loathes the limelight.

  As the son of an ESPY-award-winning, NFL Hall of Famer, he spent a lot of his childhood being paraded around as a pivotal part of his father’s perfect life. And as much as he loves his dad, he found the pressure suffocating.

  Rolling his eyes, he replies, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s my life dream.”

  “Oh my God, don’t knock it, I would love to be famous one day,” Tash interrupts, with a sigh.

  Ethan’s eyes connect with mine, his filled with humor, mine filled with frustration. Sometimes, I find her superficiality too much. I can overlook her condescending comments about my clothes and my hair. I understand that in her own way, she believes she’s helping. But I worry that one of the reasons she’s so desperate to sink her claws into Ethan is that she believes his father’s celebrity status will shine a light on her. It might make me a horrible person, but he can do so much better, and if I have to suffer through seeing him with someone else, I need it to at least be someone worthy of his awesome.

  A rush of warmth hits us as we make our way inside, and my stomach immediately grumbles its approval. Realizing I forgot to grab a granola bar on my way to class this morning, I thank the food gods that my college has a dining hall that can rival any food court and start visualizing my plan of attack.

  The four of us split up before meeting at a large table by the side exit, slightly hidden away from the chaos.

  Taking a seat next to Ethan, my eyes practically roll back in pleasure when the smell of his burger and loaded cheese fries hits my nostrils.

  “Ugh, that smells so good!”

  “Yep, the burgers here are fucking amazing.” He eyes my plate suspiciously. “But, uh, that looks good too.”

  “That was convincing.” I snort. Picking up my ham and salad wrap, I bite down and groan in pleasure.

  “You know, there’s so much fat in that, Ethan. Don’t you have team nutritionists that would kick your ass for eating something like that?” Tash can’t hide the disgust in her voice and her brow is laughably crinkled as she observes him devouring his burger.

  Evie and I glance at each other and I have to bite my lip, hard, to stop my laughter from escaping.

  “That’s why I avoid sharing meals with our nutritionists whenever possible.” He shrugs good-naturedly. “If it makes you feel better, I promise to do an extra hour of cardio tonight.”

  She looks down and plays with her sad-looking garden salad. “If you say so. It’s none of my business, I guess. I was just trying to look out for you.”

  Ethan’s face echoes the surprise I’m feeling. He reaches over and gently squeezes her shoulder. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Evie pulls a face at me and I giggle quietly before we all return to our food.

  Twenty minutes later we have been joined by various members of the football team, not to mention their groupies, and I’m cursing Ethan’s presence for removing my ability to remain invisible.

  Keeping my attention focused on Evie and Mia, who arrived at the table mid-argument with Seth, we’re having a passionate discussion about soulmates.

  “I’m not saying they don’t exist, I’m just saying that I don’t think there’s someone out there for everyone. I mean, that’s statistically impossible, right?” I insist.

  “Nope, there is totally someone out there for everyone. You might need to lower your expectations though, ‘cause believe me, if you had told me Seth Parker was my soulmate five years ago, I would have laughed in your face.” Her face softens. “But, he’s it for me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” She purses her lips. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  Evie laughs, nodding her head in agreement. “It takes work, and sometimes you have to trust that they’ll finally figure out what you already know.” Her eyes cloud over, and I just know she’s thinking about the guy she left behind in her small town. “But I honestly believe we all have someone that’s destined to be in our lives. What sort of life is it, if it’s spent without the hope of passion and intimacy?”

  “I hope you’re right, I really do, but I just don’t think—”

  “Oh my God, Layla!” Tash, who has been engaged in a low-key flirt fest with one of the football players, suddenly interrupts loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Jesus Christ, there are plenty of other ugly girls out there who have boyfriends, if you just—” Her voice breaks off, as though she has suddenly realized what she just said.

  My vision blurs and humiliation washes over me as the meaning of Tash’s words sink in around the table. Glancing up, I see embarrassed looks being exchanged and a couple of jaws hanging open. Tash, at least, has the decency to look ashamed.

  “I didn’t mean, I mean, just because you’re—” She’s stumbling over her words in an effort to save face and I take pity on her, cutting her off.

  “You know what? People have all kinds of weird fetishes, right?” My chest aches painfully as I force myself to continue. “I’m sure there’s some kind of ugly girl fetish, so I haven’t given up hope just yet.” I roll my eyes self-deprecatingly before turning to Evie. “Oh God, do you remember that guy you went out with and you busted him stealing your panties?” I laugh lightly, my words drawing Evie’s angry gaze from Tash to myself, my eyes beseeching her to save me from this painful attention.

  She nods slightly, plastering on a huge grin, and proceeds to tell the story of the panty-stealer, embellishing somewhat and playing to her audience like a master.

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone is completely enthralled, allowing me to make a quiet exit. Gathering my trash, I turn to Ethan only to find his eyes glued to me, obviously warring with himself. I know him well enough to know that he desperately wants to defend my honor, but he also wants to respect my, equally desperate, need to let it drop.

  “I need to grab a textbook before my next class, I’ll see you later.” I stand, but before I can move away, his hand gently grips my forearm, preventing my departure. I ignore the heat that follows his touch, my breath stilling as I wait.

  “Are you okay?”

  I release my breath and force a smile, prepared to play the role I play so well.

  “I’m fine, Millhouse.” I scrunch my nose humorously, infusing my tone with as much light-heartedness as I can. “Don’t even worry about it. She doesn’t mean anything, it’s just the way she is.” I shrug helplessly. “It’s just Tash.”

  Ethan’s expression is decidedly pissy so I act fast before he can draw any unwanted attention back to me.

  “I’ll catch you later.” Before he can respond, my feet are propelling me toward the exit, and I pray I make it to my room before the burn behind my eyes inevitably develops into the tears I need to hide.

  I stand in front of the mirror, the same mirror that held the reflection Evie was gushing over just days ago, and watch the tears s
ilently streaming down my cheeks with morbid curiosity. I feel the familiar tightening in my chest. The ache in my jaw as it clenches tight. As I stare at the reflection I loathe. The image I would give anything to change.

  I understand what I look like, I realize there’s no changing it, and I do my best to be at peace with it. But hearing Tash actually put a voice to my inner demons has hit me viscerally. Like a punch to the gut that I can’t catch my breath from, and the self-hate pulsing through me is painful in its intensity.

  I look myself up and down, slowly cataloging the flaws I’m all too familiar with. From the huge mouth that’s slightly too big for my face to the hips that will always be a little too big, too wide, no matter how much weight I lose, to the short legs that verge on stumpy. My inner voice is cruelly whispering in my ear, reminding me how disgusting I am, when the sobs finally come, loudly wracking my body. The habitual despair has me once again questioning if I will ever feel like I’m enough. In a world so obsessed with beauty, it is soul destroying when you realize you’re so far from that ideal, it’s laughable.

  Loud thumping on my door distracts me from my pity party and I do my best to calm myself and stop the last little whimpers tormenting me.

  “Layla, let me in.”

  I flinch at the sound of Ethan’s voice. How many times does he have to see me like this? Decimated over people’s cruelty toward me. It’s no wonder he could never see me as more than a friend, I’m lucky he sees me as anything more than some pathetic victim.

  “I can hear you, Bug. Let me in.”

  I grab a tissue, scrubbing it across my face and wiping away the trails of tears, before quickly blowing my nose.

  My movement toward the door is stilted. I feel lethargic from the emotional intensity of my breakdown and the beginning of a headache is pulsing along my forehead.

  Taking a moment to center myself before I open the door, I take a cleansing breath and turn the knob.