Page 44 of The Love of My Next Life
“I’m already on my way out,” I spit back. She whips her eyes to me, humiliation replaced with indignation.
“You don’t get to be mad at me about this,” she rushes out. “Youclimbed throughmywindow.Youpounced onme.”
“Pounced?” I scoff. “Like I’m some predator and you’re prey?”
She shrugs with a look of dismissal on her face. “If the shoe fits.”
“Bullshit,Leonard.” I take a step toward her and relish the way her eyes flare. “You feel guilty for cheating on your jock boyfriend? Fine. But don’t act like you didn’t want this just as much as I did.”
Her mouth drops open, face flushed, and she averts her eyes back to the flowers.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she argues, and I choke on a humorless laugh.
I turn my back on her and walk toward the window, stopping briefly to snatch the bouquet up from the ground. I shake the flowers over my shoulder, hard enough that petals fall off and litter the carpet.
“Maybe you should tell him that, then.”
I drop the bouquet out the window and swing my legs out after it, climbing down the tree branches without another word. When I jump to the ground, I aim my feet for the flowers and land with a thud, then drop the crushed bouquet in the trash bin at the curb on my way home.
TEN
It didn’t surpriseme when Macon ruined the beautiful bouquet Eric had brought me.
That’s what Macon does. He ruins things. He sows destruction and chaos. I don’t know how much he can help it, actually.
Iamsurprised to find a new bouquet waiting for me when I unlock my locker the next morning. I smile immediately and a laugh escapes my lips, an impulse I’m too stunned to analyze. I know without a doubt the flowers are from Macon.
I was mad at him when I woke up this morning. Furious. Now I can’t stop smiling.
It’s a gorgeous display of daisies, roses, and Queen Anne’s lace. Some sprigs of blue delphinium, some lisianthus blooms. Flowers I only know about because I took a week-long floral arrangement class at the college last summer. The bouquet is absolutely beautiful, and so many questions flash through my head as I admire it.
How did he get my locker combination? When did he get these flowers if he left my house after nine last night? How could he afford them? How did he get them into the school this early?
I feel his eyes on me first, and when I glance up, Macon is on the other side of the hallway, leaning against the wall with one foot propped up beneath him.
His eyes smolder, the hottest blue flames, and a shiver runs down my spine when his full lips quirk up at the side. I’m about to head to him—to do I don’t know what—but I stop in my tracks the moment I see Claire’s face, shining with delight from the locker next to mine.
I hadn’t even realized she was standing there.
“Are these from Eric?” she squeals excitedly, bouncing on her toes.
“Oh,” I stutter, “um...” I flick my attention back to Macon, but he’s gone. I glance at the vase, and my eyes catch on the note sticking up from the blooms.
It’s scrawled in thin,messy script, and I resist the urge to laugh despite my agitation. Even Macon’s handwriting is chaotic.
I reach up and snatch the card, shoving it awkwardly in my bag with a forced smile.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Dinner went well.”
“Ugh,” she groans, and I change out my books and slam my locker shut before Eric decides to pay me a visit and catches sight of the flowers he definitely didn’t buy. “I wish I could get Josh to meet my mom, but he’s kind of parent-phobic.”
I snort and change the subject.
“How is chem?”
“Blows,” she groans, “but so much better with your notes. Thank you so much, Bae.”
“Of course, Bae.”
