Page 12 of Your Love

“Wildflower,” he says, as a warm smile spreads across his lips. The sound of it makes me feel off balance, even though I’m still sitting and looking up at him. I can see the sunlight dancing in his eyes, and at that moment, I feel lost in his gaze. This isn’t good. My only hope is that he has food stuck in his teeth or horrible body odor.

As I struggle to stand up, his strong hand gently grips my arm, offering support. Examining him closely, I search for any flaw but find none. His complexion is flawless, not a pimple in sight. His teeth are straight and white and completely devoid of any remnants of lunch. His smile showcases that perfect dimple that adds to his charm. The slight wind carries his scent toward my nose, and I’m rewarded with a warm, masculine scent that wraps around me like a hug. But what captivates me the most are his eyes—a deep amber hue that looked so sweetly at his companion yesterday, now locking onto mine with intensity.

“Wildflower?” Ivy asks with a curious tilt of her head.

“We met yesterday, sort of,” he says confidently. His eyes sparkle as he recounts the encounter. “She gave me and Paisley some wildflowers at the farmer’s market.”

Ivy’s eyes widen with excitement. “Wow, that’s so awesome,” she exclaims. “Now that we’re all friends, we should totally make plans to spend more time together.” Her voice is filled with genuine warmth and enthusiasm.

I don’t have the heart to break the bad news to her—that it’s a terrible idea. I haven’t allowed myself to explore any hint of attraction toward anyone in months, and I’m not ready to start now.

Chapter 6

"If You Could Only See"

Landry - Age 18, 1988

Kerri Thatcher from somewhere near Austin, Texas. It turns out the girl I can’t stop thinking about is a new friend of Ivy’s. Every spare minute since I saw her yesterday was spent wondering about her—who she is, where she’s from, and if she’d be back at the farmer’s market this coming weekend. I had already been planning to go in the hopes of seeing her again, but it seems fate has already intertwined our paths.

I don’t think I’m the only one interested in spending more time together. She tried to act unaffected by me, but the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes went wide as saucers when she looked at me were a pretty big clue.

I played it casually, or at least I tried to, but I felt a rush of excitement when I saw her sitting underneath that tree. The truth is that Kerri stands out from all the other girls here. There’s a gentle grace about her, and the softness in her voice when she spoke to Paisley tells me she’s a kind and intuitive person. Plus, she moved here to help her grandparents, leaving behind everything she knew for their well-being. Not many people my age would do something so selfless. That only adds to her mystery, making me want to know her even more.

I now face the daunting task of not messing things up, which is easier said than done. I’m not as outgoing as some of my friends. I like to stay home and chill with my family more often than not. I’m not much of a party guy, so I wouldn’t say I “put myself out there” too much, which usually isn’t a problem. Girls around here have always been interested in me and my friends, mainly because we play hockey. So, I’ve always been able to sit back and let them approach me. I haven’t pursued a girl in a long time, and to say I’m rusty is an understatement. But I want to know Kerri better. Besides, being the odd man out has gotten old. Despite Sascha and Taz’s current animosity towards each other, it is only a matter of time before they move out of their way and see what is in front of them.

It’s time to try to push thoughts of Kerri Thatcher out of my head for two hours and focus on practice. The ice awaits us, and I need to be mentally prepared. I find a quiet corner by my locker to begin my hand-eye coordination drills. I like to challenge myself by juggling a few tennis balls, their fuzzy yellow exteriors bouncing and rolling in a hypnotizing rhythm. I’m a few minutes into the drill when Taz saunters over in nothing but his jock and starts stretching only a few feet away from me.

Taz does this kind of shit all of the time. He tries to initiate a rise out of me, but I’ve become pretty good at ignoring him. Honestly, he does me a favor with these irritating shenanigans. If I can handle what he throws at me, it only makes me better when I’m goaltending while opposing fans are yelling my name and trying to get in my head.

I can see Taz out of my peripheral vision, his bare ass to the sky, as he continues stretching and talking about some talent show nonsense. I can hardly be bothered to listen, but his enthusiasm is palpable. Suddenly, he changes the subject and I know I won’t be able to ignore his topic of choice.

“Hey, Landry,” he says playfully. “What’s the deal with Daisy Duke?”

I can feel my cheeks start to burn. “No deal,” I reply casually, hoping my voice doesn’t give away my interest. I furiously focus on the three yellow tennis balls in my hands, willing them to distract me from his teasing gaze.

“Didn’t seem that way to me,” he replies.

“Yeah?” I say, trying not to let my smile give away my thoughts. “How did it seem to you, Taz?”

“Seemed like you might be looking for a ride from a real-life cowgirl.”

My dick twitches at the image that flashes through my mind—her straddling me with that beautiful strawberry blonde hair framing her face. The tennis balls tumble to the ground at my feet and bounce in different directions.

“Oh, I think I’ve found Christian Landry’s kryptonite,” he chuckles.

Frustrated with myself and annoyed with him as usual, I pick up one of the tennis balls and throw it with all my strength as he bolts in the opposite direction. It hits him squarely on his bare ass cheek, eliciting a surprised howl. We all erupt into laughter, and I’m satisfied that karma has been served.

Two hours later I return home and find Paisley sitting at the dining room table drawing and coloring while Mom makes dinner.

When she sees me, she says, “Hey, honey.“ I reach for a banana, but she slaps my hand away. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, Christian,” she scolds.

“Ouch, Mom,” I reply and pull my hand back. “I’m starving.” I peel it and take a huge bite. “Trust me, it won’t ruin my dinner,” I mumble through the fruit in my mouth. After eating my banana in two bites, I wander over to the table. “Whatcha drawing, Pais?” I ask my sister.

She holds up her picture, and a slow smile spreads across my face. It’s a beautiful rendering of the vase of wildflowers on the table.

“This is great, Paisley,” I tell her. My sister is truly a gifted artist, turning the things she doesn’t put into words into images on paper.

She shoves the picture at me. “Is this for me?” I ask her, to which she shakes her head.