Page 35 of Poinsettia Lane

He’s correct in that deduction. She has never enjoyed it, even when her parents were still alive and she didn’t have to host.

“It’s what is expected of me, I guess.” Everly shrugs again, then accidentally hurls her handful of dirt at the hole a bit too aggressively and it splatters across her legs. She huffs and sits back on her feet, legs folded underneath her and hands on her hips as she glares at the ground.

“But it’s not what you want.” Asim is hitting one nail on the head after the other.

“No, it’s not what I want.” The words come out softly, with more emotion threaded through them than she intends.

Asim eyes her for a moment, his lips pursed.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. If it’s not who you are, you could change it. Do something different. I don’t think it’s fair of them to put so much pressure on you, and you have the right to say no.” His voice is slow and steady, almost tentative, as if he doesn’t want to scare her away.

“Now you sound like Carrie," Everly grumbles under her breath and picks up another trowel-full of dirt. Everyone acts like it’s so easy to just do what she wants, but it’s not. There are people relying on her, people who plan their entire holiday season around this party. She can’t quit hosting it now, after so many years. Besides the fact that it’s always been her family who hosts. It’s tradition, and the elite love their traditions.

She flings the small pile of dirt at the plants roots, watching it crumble apart with the impact.

“Who is Carrie?” Asim is watching her with his eyebrows slightly bunched, having stopped digging and set his shovel next to him on the ground. He’s working on holes for the smaller plants now, so he’s using a hand trowel and is also on his knees a few feet away from her, though he looks like he wants to shuffle closer and is debating if she would welcome it or not.

Everly hadn’t intended for him to hear her comment about Carrie, unsure if she wants to share that part of herself yet. She picks up another handful of soil, letting it slowly trickle through her fingers around the roots she’s burying before answering.

“Carrie is… my therapist.” She swirls her finger through the loose soil, creating a pattern of loops around the base of the plant. Everly isn’t ashamed of going to therapy, but she knows many people hold a stigma or misunderstand it. She doesn’t want to feel rejected or disappointed if that’s his reaction, and she’s glad he decided on giving her space rather than crowding her.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I didn’tmean to pry into a personal topic.” Asim is eyeing her carefully, his gaze flickering from her gloved fingers to her tense shoulders to her downcast eyes and back. Everly realizes as he gives her an out that she actually does want to share. She feels more comfortable with him than she thought was possible, and the fact that he didn’t immediately scoff or judge her is a good sign.

“It’s okay,” she glances up at him to confirm he isn’t looking at her in any negative way, then continues. “I’ve been meeting with her for a while now. She’s really good, mainly she helps me with anxiety. You might’ve noticed.” Everly twists her mouth to the side and grimaces as she thinks back on how her anxiety did its best to sabotage her the first couple times they met.

“Well, you definitely couldn’t have missed it when I literally ran away that one time.” She glances up again to see he’s leaned forward, listening intently. He nods for her to continue, but doesn’t say anything yet. “That’s what happened. Outside the candy shop. I panicked and my anxiety took over and I ran away. I’m sorry.” She twists her hands together, fighting the urge to jump up and run away again.

“It’s alright.” Asim’s voice is softer than she has ever heard it. “I figured you were nervous or something came up, I didn’t know you struggled with anxiety though. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me, but please don’t feel like you need to apologize for that.”

Everly stares at him, stunned. He thanked her? Is that something people do when someone tells them they have a mental illness and go to therapy? Not in her experience, but then again, Asim isn’t like anyone else she’s met before so she shouldn’t be surprised.

“That’s… huh. Okay," Everly says, feeling her shoulders drop and her body relax back onto her heels. She’s still trying to get her brain to start moving forward again. He offers her a gentle smile, then moves a little closer and asks what she meant earlier about him reminding her of Carrie. At the same time, he pulls that ever-present cloth from his pocket to clean the dirt from his hands.

“Oh, that.” Everly huffs at herself. “She’s been challenging me to be myself. Sounds silly, I know, but itturns out I don’t really know who I am. So I’ve been trying to figure it out. I think…” Everly trails off, casting her eyes to the side and looking at the plants surrounding her instead of him.

“You think what?” Asim prompts her to continue when she hesitates.

“I think you’ve been helping me with that. With being more comfortable with myself, and being who I truly am.” She’s starting to blush and turns her face downward again in an effort to hide it, but then she notices his reaction.

Asim’s thoughtful look transforms into a smile that takes over his face. His eyes crinkle up at the corners, and he slides next to her, taking her gloved hand in his.

“I have never been more highly complimented," he says, and gives her hand a squeeze, then brushes his thumb along the bare skin of her wrist above her glove, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Everly is taken aback by him yet again. This man is unbelievable, and kind of strange, but in the best way. It takes her a breath to react in kind, and a smile spreads across her face too, deepening her blush. She pulls her hand from his and covers her cheeks with her fingers, not caring that she still has gardening gloves on. She needs the coolness of the rubbery material, and she doesn’t want him to see her blushing yet again.

“Please, don’t hide from me.” His voice is tender yet firm. Asim wraps his fingers around her wrists and tugs her hands down, then gently brushes the dirt off her face. He traces his fingers lightly over her cheeks, painting the blush on them. “You’re beautiful.”

This, of course, only makes her redden further. Everly sucks in her lips, biting them between her teeth in an effort to hold in the protest forming in response to his compliment. She’s beet red and likely covered in both dirt and sweat, probably as far from beautiful as she’s ever been.

Asim lets his hands fall from her face, and is now tracing circles on her palm as he holds one of her hands open in his. Everly wishes she didn’t have the gloves on so she could feel his skin against hers. His green eyes hold her captive, a willing victim.

“May I take you out on a date?” he asks.

“I would love that.” Everly blinks in surprise when she doesn’t hesitate in her reply. Her shoulders fully loosen, and her smile feels easy on her face. If this is what it’s like to let your inner self shine, her therapist deserves a raise.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THEY HAVEN’T YET discussed the date further, but Asim said he had an idea and asked her to trust him to get it set up for them. She’s only a little surprised by how easy it was to let go and trust him with it. Now that he knows about her anxiety, she doesn’t have anything else to hide. Everly feels seen, validated and understood after their conversation today. The emotional connection between them is almost tangible. Imagine that; Carrie is right again.

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