Authors: Lila Felix
“Look at me, Breaker. I need you to tell me what kind of roses we should get. I’m such a flower folly, I’m liable to pick them exclusively for their color and nothing else. And my luck, I will pick the only one in the bunch that’s not meant for greenhouses. Or the only one that can’t be owned by people named Ash.”
I could see her through the cloud and I focused on the motion of her lips. The way she cocked her right eyebrow when she was being facetious. But when she touched my hands, clutched to the sides of the orchid’s clay pot—the spell ended. The tornado was sucked into my imagination and put away for further use.
My brain and my heart were in dissidence—and neither had a lead over the other. And this instance proved a perfect example of why. She healed me with one touch. My twisted heart allowed her crystal perceptions to override mine with a simple touch of my hand. But my brain knew better. It knew my heart for the fickle beast it was. It knew my ticker’s weakness. And she was it. And I had a sneaking suspicion that one of these days my damned brain would win and smash my heart’s hope to pieces. Or she would—she would find me out for the fraud I was and smash everything to bits.
“I’m ok. I’m fine,” I focused on an elementary task, putting my treasures into the shopping basket she’d been pushing. Then I made my feet go one in front of the other.
“Good. Now, I love the orangey ones.”
She practically ran to the orange roses with crimson tips and in her exuberance, allowed a thorn to pierce her finger.
“Ouch,” she hissed and jerked her hand back.
“Let me see,” I rushed over to her.
“It’s just a little drop of blood, not a big deal.” She slid her finger in her mouth. Her velvet brown eyes flicked up to mine, clearly not aware of what she’d done. And I made the grave mistake of watching as she pulled it out, her paradisiacal, pouty lips made a perfect circle around it. It was almost worse that I knew what those lips felt like now. They were sirens to mine, calling them back to the original scene of the sin. And as we stood there I became the committer of multiple sins—more than I ever thought possible.
I cleared my throat, desperate for a subject change, but instead I dug myself a little deeper, “Orange means passion, or the beginning of a new relationship that you hope will go further.”
“Or both?” She asked not so innocently.
“Or both.”
“Let’s buy the whole place out of orange then,” she giggled. That was the first time I’d heard a true giggle out of her. She wasn’t the giddy, silly kind.
After explaining to her what the other roses meant, she decided to get one of each color. I got the other things we needed and as we headed out to the car I realized I’d made it through another trip in public without a flip out. Well, there was an almost flip out, but not a full blown one. But then fear whispered, “Only because Ash is with you. You couldn’t have done it on your own.”
And it was right. But I was too damned selfish and overly attached to her to admit it out loud.
We got home and I replanted all the roses in pots bought at the nursery. She’d picked out some wacky designs, but I went with it. They were all going to be for her anyway. I loved the growing of them, but the results would be for her.
She jumped up on the shelf next to where I was working and watched. Ash was such a voyeur, not that I had any room to talk.
“How long can they go between watering?”
“Why?” I continued to prune the dead leaves off of the last rose bush.
“I’m just thinking,” She looked in the air.
“When you think, I get in trouble.”
“That’s true, but I thought you liked my kind of trouble.”
“I do like your kind of trouble.” I looked at her briefly. She swung her legs back and forth and inadvertently stuck her chest out—such trouble.
I finished up and we stood back. “You look happy,” she remarked.
I flinched, then backtracked. “I think I am happy. I feel more like Breaker James and less like the head case on the tab of the file.”
“I love your name.”
I stepped closer to her but my damned hands were encrusted with potting soil.
“I love when you say both of my names," I said, putting only a breath’s distance between us.
“Do you? I’m gonna have to remember that.” Her Southern accent grew a little thicker as she laid on the charm.
“Wait. I don’t know your middle name.”
“Oh no, you’re gonna have to work for that Breaker James.”
She hopped off the shelf and walked out and if she wasn’t purposefully swaying her hips back and forth like that—I’d love to be witness to a time when she really tried. It was devastatingly sexy.
I took a shower shortly after and then ordered pizzas. And this time, I wouldn’t pull my chicken shit move. Usually I ordered the pizzas and paid for them over the internet. Then, I left a note on the door, telling the delivery guy to just leave them on the stoop and ring the doorbell. Chicken shit, right?
I went down and passed right in front of Ash, who was now in one of those damned strapless dresses again, looking confused at my enthusiasm at answering the door.
I took the pizzas from the guy and even said thank you and everything. I came back in, beaming like I’d just won the gold medal in manners 101.
“What? No ‘Bravo’?”
“I’m still in shock that you actually answered the door when the doorbell rang. I didn’t realize His Majesty knew what that signified.”
“Just for that, I’m not sharing my pizza, Missy.”
“Ok,” she shrugged.
“What? No debate, no debacle?”
“Nah-ah.”
I plopped the pizzas down on the counter and opened them up. I wafted the scent of them in her direction, using the top of the box as my fan.
“Quit it, Breaker!” She yelled from the living room.
“I can’t believe you. The girl who spends day and night thinking of food. How can you resist me?”
She didn’t know it, but I heard her mumble, “I can resist the food, not you.”
I dropped two slices on a plate, intending to share, despite her rebellion, when the doorbell rang again. She popped up and a shrill rang through the house.
“Ash?” I walked over to the door wondering who she was talking to. I couldn’t help but think it was the Appalachia guy, despite his less than gentlemanly behavior on their date.
“Breaker, do you want to meet my best friend?”
“Um,” and before I could answer, a boisterous blonde bounced through the door.
“Hi, I’m Stephanie. Ash talks about you all the time.” Ash’s hand shot out and she pulled Blondie’s hair, hard.
“Ow! What? You do!” Her hand was outstretched, waiting to make mine’s acquaintance.
I shook her hand, “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m just glad you’re not Appalachia or Rocky—whatever his name is.”
The corners of her baby blue eyes crinkled before her mouth rang out the most ear piercing giggle I’d even heard.
“Ash, he seriously is funny. You were right. Ok,” she held up the bag in her hands. “As requested, catfish po-boys and sweet potato fries, and one large bread pudding. Anything else babe?” She directed her question at Ash who was now drooling.
“No, thank you so much. I really just wanted to see your mug.”
I broke in, “Stephanie, why don’t you stay a while?”
“Nah, I’ve got a date in a few. I dumped Tower.”
Ash gasped, and they gossiped a few minutes about some guy named Tower and there were some knowing looks shared between them. I tried not to pay attention for the most part. They eventually said their goodbyes and she left.
I waited until she was done eating and then made my move. She’d tempted me so many times today. First with the blasted finger and then poised on the same shelf I’d kissed her the first time. She was an incessant bundle of temptation.
“I want to show you something.”
“Lead the way.” She followed me upstairs to the library.
“I’ve seen this, your Majesty.”
Her and her royalty euphemisms were growing on me.
“Hold on.” I ran to my room and flipped the switch on the starry sky I’d crafted so long ago for an unimpressed Holly.
“Oh my God, Breaker! It’s so cheesy, in the best way possible. Turn all the other lights off.” She commanded. I didn’t hesitate to comply.
She went inside and sat on the floor and eventually leaned back on her elbows. She gazes at the simplicity of white Christmas lights through holes in the ceiling as if it were the very Milky Way itself. I knew it had to be incredibly uncomfortable on those hardwood floors so I bolted for the linen closet. I grabbed four or five blankets, so many that I could barely see to walk.
I fumbled into the room and threw them all on the floor. I went back for some pillows and when I came back she’d gotten my drift and most of the blankets were laid out one atop the other like a bed. She billowed out the last one and laid it on top. I threw the pillows on top, shut the lights off and shut the door. I’d also grabbed my iPad from my room. I slid my finger along the screen until I got to the ambient sounds app. I started it and chose the forest mode. I put it behind our heads and finally relaxed beside her, chirping grasshoppers and bullfrogs providing us a choir.
We laid there for a long time before her hand found mine. I turned on my right side, propped up on my elbow, enjoying the view of her so much more than the view of the twinkly lights.
I played with a few strands of her dark, silken tresses before she met my gaze, “Tell me something no one else knows.”
I chuckled, “You know plenty that no one else knows.”
“I can’t stand it when people put books on the floor—it’s disrespectful. I don’t mean when they’re in boxes or bags, but when they just put a book on the floor. I hate it.”
“What?” I looked around, searching for the offending book.
“Something about me that no one else knows.” She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. But I could listen all night to her little idiosyncrasies.
“I love it when you wear these dresses.” I fondled the hem of her dress, so close to her now heaving chest. ‘Though I have to admit, the things that run through my mind when you wear them aren’t good.”
“Like what?”
“Like what if you tripped over the bottom of it and ‘oops’ the whole thing falls.”
“Pervert,” She laughed.
She moved her other hand and laced her fingers with mine.
“I hate when my trust for people is mistaken for weakness.” This admittance was more than a quirk. I could see the glint of hurt in her eyes.
“I hate when people assume that I’m stupid. That I don’t know when I explain my affliction out loud how ludicrous it sounds. Hell, I know it. But I’m not stupid.”
“Far from it.” She agreed.
I tapped my finger in the center of her chin, “Kissing the boss’ ass. Nice.”