“Odd for a guy,” Rhys scoffs.
Barely holding my breath, “What is it?” I ask. “His favourite flower, what did he say it was?”
Kat shifts, watching me with adept confusion, then with sudden awareness. She reads my perfervid face.
A small smile dips into her cheeks when she says, “Anemone.”
“What the fuck is that?” Hina’s laughing. “Sounds like one of those card games.”
“You are thinking of Anomia, Hina.” Shaan lectures, “That isdifferent.”
“Okay, chill.” She raises a palm to shut him out. “It’s not that deep.”
Shaan looks taken aback by that but doesn’t reply.
But I’m experiencing a new symptom of migraines called heart failure. So yes, it isthatdeep.
“What is it?” He mutters.
“Have you ever heard of an Anemone?” I ask him, already knowing the answer.
“No.”
Deliberately, he reaches out to take the pot from me only for our hands to brush against each other.
Electric tingles carry up my spine.
Clearing my throat, “Anemone’s are wildflowers, symbolizing protection against evil. Most people—like me—believe that they’re created from Aphrodite’s tears, but a lot of people will tell you that’s not true. They’re not high maintenance flowers, but like you and me, they need to be taken care of.”
He grunts as a reply, looking down at the soil that hasn’t grown yet.
“They’re my favourite.” I chuckle nervously, “I’m not sure when it’ll grow or what kind of colour it’ll be, so please take care of it and tell me when they show.”
“Why?” he asks. And I know he’s not responding to me but asking whyhim.
Softly, “When Anemones feel that it’s about to rain, they close within themselves. They don’t cower away, but they do it for protection. I think that we should learn to do the same—to close ourselves up when we’re faced with moments in life we don’t want.” Meeting his eyes, “Protecting yourself should never be considered a weakness and it seemed like you needed that reminder more than I did.”
“I’m gonna…” I’m already standing, palms sweaty, wiping it on my thigh while my heavy legs whisk me through the room. I don’t know what I say to them, something about water, or medicine.
When I gave Dean Anemones, it was my second week at Vuk Securities. Heaviness weighed into the way he carried himself, it seemed reasonable at the time.
I never thought they’d become his favourite flowers.
I’m already in front of the kitchen, pausing at the door.
Sunlight shines from outside and right onto Dean’s expansive back.
His biceps, forearms, and rhomboids work as he washes dishes.
Being angry at him doesn’t stop me from ogling his ass in those loose pants.
Dean’s bigger than most men.
It’s a shame he doesn’t wear short sleeves, because I know he’s hiding delicious muscles beneath that shirt. His thumb swipes away at a stain on a plate and even that sends a shiver down my throat to between my legs.
This feeling is new to me. Not that I’ve never been attracted to a man before, but it hasn’t been this intense.
My skin feels warm, hotter than the usual burn from a terrible migraine.
