“I’m not dreaming,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“You wish,” Laurel said, trying to straighten her shirt. “I can’t even imagine what I must look like.” Her blossom still ached, but at least the pain wasn’t stabbing anymore. She gave up trying to pull her shirt down; it just made her blossom hurt.
David grinned at her bare midriff and his hands skimmed the sides of her waist, then traveled farther up her back, where he gingerly stroked the undamaged petals on the right side of her blossom. Laurel wondered if he realized just how much she could feel them; as if they were an extension of her skin. Sometimes he touched them idly, almost unconsciously. Other times she would feel his hand linger where the petals were wrapped tightly under her clothes. It felt a little strange to have him touch her like that. Intimate. More than holding hands. More than kissing, even.
“It’s going to be gone soon, isn’t it?” he said, more than a tinge of regret in his voice as he studied the large flower.
She nodded, craning her neck to look back at the blue blossom. “It should be gone in another week or two,” she said. There was a distinct lack of regret in her voice. “Maybe less, after last night.”
“Is it really such a bother?”
“Sometimes.”
David’s hands stroked one of the longer petals on the blossom from base to tip, then brought it briefly to his nose and inhaled. “It’s just so…I don’t know…sexy.”
“Really? But it’s so…plantish.”
“Plantish?” David said with a laugh. “Is that a technical term?”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. You have this thing on your back that is prettier than any flower I’ve ever seen. It smells amazing and is so smooth and cool to the touch. And,” he added, “it’s magical. What could possibly not be sexy about that?”
She grinned. “Maybe, if you put it that way.”
“Thank you,” David said, licking his finger and drawing himself a point on an imaginary chalkboard.
“But only because it’s not yours,” she countered.
“It’s kind of mine,” he said suggestively, pulling her tight against him.
“Only because I share,” Laurel said.
He kissed her softly and stared down at her face just long enough to make Laurel squirm a little. “Did your mom call?” she asked, changing the subject to shift his focus away from her.
David shook his head. “Not yet, but I’d better go. In fact,” he said, glancing at the display on his phone, “I don’t have any messages, so my mom must not have missed me yet. If I hurry, she might not even realize I didn’t make it home last night.” He stretched. “And I’m really not much of a fan of your early mornings. I could use a couple more hours of sleep before work.”
“How late are you supposed to work?”
“Just from noon to five. Don’t worry.” David was part of the stock crew at the drugstore where his mom was the pharmacist. Being the top dog’s kid definitely had its advantages. He had a very flexible schedule and only worked about two Saturdays a month, with an occasional Sunday thrown in. Of course, Laurel had similar advantages and only had to work at her parents’ stores when she needed a twenty. Or more.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to keep your mom from going out at night?” Laurel asked.
David rolled his eyes in her direction. His mom was rather famous for being the life of the party.
“I was just asking.”
“Do you still have Klea’s card?” David asked.
Laurel found something interesting to look at on the floor. “Yeah.”
“Can I see it?”
Laurel hesitated, then pulled it out of her pocket. She’d memorized it already. Klea Wilson, it proclaimed in bold, black letters. Then a number underneath. No job description, no address, no picture or logo. Just her name and number.
David had his cell phone out and was adding the number to his contacts. “Just to be safe,” he said. “In case you lose this or something.”
“I won’t lose it.” Although I might throw it away on purpose. Something about Klea made her uneasy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was just those stupid sunglasses.
“By the way,” Laurel said tentatively. “I think I should go out to the land today. Tomorrow, at the latest.”
David stiffened. “How come?”
“They need to know what happened,” Laurel said, not meeting his eyes.
“You mean Tamani needs to know what happened?”
“And Shar,” Laurel said defensively.
David pushed his hands into his pockets and was silent. “Can I come?” he finally said.
“I’d prefer that you didn’t.”
His head popped up. “Why not?”
Laurel sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Tamani always gets weird when you’re around, and quite frankly, I think you get weird too. I need to sit down and have a serious talk with them about this Klea woman and I don’t need the two of you trying to get at each other’s throats while I’m doing it. Besides,” she added, “you have to work.”
“I could get out of it,” he said stiffly.
Laurel looked up at him now. “You don’t need to. I can do this alone. And it’s not like you have anything to worry about. I’m with you. I love you. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you.”
“You wish,” Laurel said, trying to straighten her shirt. “I can’t even imagine what I must look like.” Her blossom still ached, but at least the pain wasn’t stabbing anymore. She gave up trying to pull her shirt down; it just made her blossom hurt.
David grinned at her bare midriff and his hands skimmed the sides of her waist, then traveled farther up her back, where he gingerly stroked the undamaged petals on the right side of her blossom. Laurel wondered if he realized just how much she could feel them; as if they were an extension of her skin. Sometimes he touched them idly, almost unconsciously. Other times she would feel his hand linger where the petals were wrapped tightly under her clothes. It felt a little strange to have him touch her like that. Intimate. More than holding hands. More than kissing, even.
“It’s going to be gone soon, isn’t it?” he said, more than a tinge of regret in his voice as he studied the large flower.
She nodded, craning her neck to look back at the blue blossom. “It should be gone in another week or two,” she said. There was a distinct lack of regret in her voice. “Maybe less, after last night.”
“Is it really such a bother?”
“Sometimes.”
David’s hands stroked one of the longer petals on the blossom from base to tip, then brought it briefly to his nose and inhaled. “It’s just so…I don’t know…sexy.”
“Really? But it’s so…plantish.”
“Plantish?” David said with a laugh. “Is that a technical term?”
Laurel rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. You have this thing on your back that is prettier than any flower I’ve ever seen. It smells amazing and is so smooth and cool to the touch. And,” he added, “it’s magical. What could possibly not be sexy about that?”
She grinned. “Maybe, if you put it that way.”
“Thank you,” David said, licking his finger and drawing himself a point on an imaginary chalkboard.
“But only because it’s not yours,” she countered.
“It’s kind of mine,” he said suggestively, pulling her tight against him.
“Only because I share,” Laurel said.
He kissed her softly and stared down at her face just long enough to make Laurel squirm a little. “Did your mom call?” she asked, changing the subject to shift his focus away from her.
David shook his head. “Not yet, but I’d better go. In fact,” he said, glancing at the display on his phone, “I don’t have any messages, so my mom must not have missed me yet. If I hurry, she might not even realize I didn’t make it home last night.” He stretched. “And I’m really not much of a fan of your early mornings. I could use a couple more hours of sleep before work.”
“How late are you supposed to work?”
“Just from noon to five. Don’t worry.” David was part of the stock crew at the drugstore where his mom was the pharmacist. Being the top dog’s kid definitely had its advantages. He had a very flexible schedule and only worked about two Saturdays a month, with an occasional Sunday thrown in. Of course, Laurel had similar advantages and only had to work at her parents’ stores when she needed a twenty. Or more.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to keep your mom from going out at night?” Laurel asked.
David rolled his eyes in her direction. His mom was rather famous for being the life of the party.
“I was just asking.”
“Do you still have Klea’s card?” David asked.
Laurel found something interesting to look at on the floor. “Yeah.”
“Can I see it?”
Laurel hesitated, then pulled it out of her pocket. She’d memorized it already. Klea Wilson, it proclaimed in bold, black letters. Then a number underneath. No job description, no address, no picture or logo. Just her name and number.
David had his cell phone out and was adding the number to his contacts. “Just to be safe,” he said. “In case you lose this or something.”
“I won’t lose it.” Although I might throw it away on purpose. Something about Klea made her uneasy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was just those stupid sunglasses.
“By the way,” Laurel said tentatively. “I think I should go out to the land today. Tomorrow, at the latest.”
David stiffened. “How come?”
“They need to know what happened,” Laurel said, not meeting his eyes.
“You mean Tamani needs to know what happened?”
“And Shar,” Laurel said defensively.
David pushed his hands into his pockets and was silent. “Can I come?” he finally said.
“I’d prefer that you didn’t.”
His head popped up. “Why not?”
Laurel sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Tamani always gets weird when you’re around, and quite frankly, I think you get weird too. I need to sit down and have a serious talk with them about this Klea woman and I don’t need the two of you trying to get at each other’s throats while I’m doing it. Besides,” she added, “you have to work.”
“I could get out of it,” he said stiffly.
Laurel looked up at him now. “You don’t need to. I can do this alone. And it’s not like you have anything to worry about. I’m with you. I love you. I don’t know what else I can say to convince you.”
