Layla
True to his word, Jess picked her up early in the morning for breakfast. She had been awake for ten minutes when she got a text saying he was ten minutes away. When she met him at the front door, he told her he’d decided he wanted to take her to try a new breakfast place that was known for their amazing waffles.
“I thought we were going to Amir’s diner.”
He’d stood with his hand on his hip and quite an attitude. “I’m not just going to take you to the same place every time. Give me some credit.” He rolled his eyes, too. She could not believe she had feelings for such a sassy man.
The food was really good so she excused him, but she didn’t like the interior.
Layla to the audience: it was industrial. There’s no need to describe such an ugly setting and traumatize everyone else.
“Don’t you think we can actually give this a try?” Jess asked.
“Give what a try?”
“This. Us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Layla, I want this to be serious. I don’t like not knowing what we’re doing, not knowing what to do next. I think we should give the relationship a try.”
“A relationship? We can’t be in relationship.”
“Why not? I’ve been taking what I can get but I can’t deny I want more every day and I know you might have some fears, but I’m really easy to please and I know we can make it work, I can get you to trust me and everything will be—”
“Don’t act like I’m the only problem here,” she said defensively. Neither of them liked this. The mood had soured in seconds.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just thought after last night.” He thought they could work things out the way his parents had. He can’t help it. He’d watched their love his whole life. It affected the way he looked at relationships. He’d always been too much of a hopeless romantic.
She laughed. It sounds a little cruel. “You know, there’s a difference between being easy to please and being used to neglect.”
“I am not neglected,” he said, getting just as defensive.
“Jess,” she said his name in frustration. “Jess, you convinced everyone around you that you’re this big, tough guy who’s going to take care of them. You never ask for help because you think people will look at you differently if they think you need them to take care of you, too. You’re scared of being a burden. Look me in eye and tell me you don’t think this affected all of your friendships and relationships. Don’t you think we should be at a better place mentally before trying whatever it is that you want?”
There was only the sound of them calming their breath.
“You know, wanting to be with someone, wanting something serious with someone you feel so strongly about, is not just reserved for those who are mentally healthy all the time. Perfect people. That’s not how it works. It’s also not fair.”
He stayed quiet for a while after that, jaw clenched. Her words clawed at a raw wound inside him, one that he had bandaged and hidden. He needed to stir the conversation away to something lighthearted, sometimes that didn’t make him want to pluck his hair out.
“Is this our first argument? Can I send you your favorite flower after this?”
Was it an argument? They were flawed, both of them, but the only arguments she’d ever witnessed were much worse than this. As for Jess, his parents had always shielded him from the bad parts of everything. Layla had never thought that feeling safe was possible at times of disagreements.
“Shut up,” she chuckled. She let him get away with it this time. He let her get away with many unanswered questions. She decided to run her feet over his thigh, teasing, torturing.
Jess grabbed her foot and squeezed. Layla tried to take it back, but he was unwilling to part with it. He squeezed her feet between his thighs.
“Give me back my foot.”
“I politely decline.”
“Jess,” she said, wiggling.
“Layla,” he mouthed, wiggling and not letting go
“You’re squeezing too much. I’m in terrible pain.”
“Liar. Say please.”
“Please.”
“What is your favorite flower?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Answer and I’ll free you.”
“I really don’t have one. I’ve never gotten flowers before, so I guess I’m impartial.”
“Oh, okay.”
When she got back home, there were so many flower bouquets all over the place: one of every kind, a couple that were mixed and colorful. The bouquets were ridiculously huge. She could barely carry them.
“Who are these from?” Celia screamed, jumping up and down, “They said it was for you, but it didn’t have a name. Is it a girl?” Then she gasped with a horrified look on her face. “Is it a man?”
But she was too busy looking at each of the flowers. The bouquets were so big it would be easy to hide letters in them.
There was card hidden in one.
Now you can choose your favorite flower. Please let me know when you decide.
Ardently yours,
Jess
Layla realized with horror that she was falling in love with him. She also decided she liked too many flowers to choose just one. Her choice was a colorful bouquet that mixed multiple kinds.
Layla to the audience: at this moment, I wanted to suck him off so hard he’d start to cry.
