Page 100 of Inked in Bloom
42
MONROE
I’m in long black boots and a dusty-rose corduroy skirt with gold buttons running up the middle. If it weren’t for the black turtleneck toning down the look, I’d be giving Briar every indication that this was a date. Staring at my reflection, I remind myself it’s not.
The rev of an engine draws me into the hallway, and I fix a few hairpins to pull back the mint wisps around my face. I search for Cherri as I descend the stairs, but there’s no sign of her.
Nerves flutter beneath my skin, my body buzzing with energy. With magic. I send some wind in the direction of the potted plants taking up the corner of our living room, the leaves and buds rustling with renewed vigor.
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.
It’s just dinner and research. That’s it.Everything is under control.
Eating a meal together and getting his event-planning assistance sends exactly the right signal. We’re friends. Research partners. Research partners who happen to know the sounds and facial expressions the other makes when they come.
Absolutely nothing could go wrong.
I resolved to stop running at the end of spring. Runningfrom my afterlife was no better than being dead, and I’ve already spent months mourning the Monroe of the past. It’s time to nurture the seeds planted here. I didn’t ask for this bond between us, but neither did Briar.
Our roots were tangled by a divine hand.
This tether isn’t going anywhere, so we might as well find a way to move forward with it. As friends, as colleagues, as solstice playmates—who knows? But it is time I start figuring it out.
Knock-knock.
The thuds send goosebumps skipping down the few inches of bare skin on the tops of my legs. I tug the hem of my skirt, flattening it one last time, and splay my hand on the wood, taking a few deep breaths before opening the front door.
Briar stands on the porch, dark-lavender hair hanging over to one side, perfectly coiffed. Instead of his usual T-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket, he’s wearing a rich-emerald button-up, black slacks, and dress shoes.
It’s just dinner and research.
“Nice to know you understand how to follow directions,” I say, keeping my tone playful.
A purple brow lifts above Briar’s wire frames. “I’ll have you know I take instructions quite well.”
Powdered sugar and vanilla swirl on the breeze. I clench my thighs together.
“Good to know,Sir Thumps-A-Lot.” He chuckles as he holds the door open so I can step out onto the porch with him. Pressing up onto the balls of my boots, I flick a straggling strand of hair back into place. “If you play your cards right, maybe there’ll be an ear scratch in it for you.”
“Well, with a promise like that, now you have my undivided attention.” He shuts the door gentlybehind me, waiting while I ensure it’s locked before offering me the crook of his arm. “Shall we?”
Parked at the end of the walking path is his floracycle, which he gets on, scooting up to make room for me. It whirs to life, vibrating beneath us, my nerves intensifying as he pulls away from the curb, petals spilling from the exhaust, dancing through the breeze.
I inhale, clasping my arms around him. Vanilla musk and cedarwood flood my nostrils on the ride toward Florezca’s City Center. He smells intoxicating, so delicious I almost opt to skip dinner in favor of something else mouthwatering. It’s a heady thrill having him so near. Touching him. Even though there’s nothing sexual in the way I clutch his torso, I haven’t been this close to him since he found me in the mortal world.
All that followed at the Solstice Center was easily the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. The level of fantasy I’d believed only existed in fiction.
The floracycle jostles us over the cobblestone streets of City Center. I tighten my hold. Pressed up against him, I wait for my heart to beat furiously in my chest at the proximity. But it doesn’t. It can’t. Yet somehow, those elusive butterflies vibrate through me.
This is not a date.
…But maybe I want it to be?
His chin dips a bit to the right and I’m slightly panicked he can sense every emotion rolling through me, but he keeps his focus on the path ahead.
We break at the wall of hedges blocking The Warren, and once we’re both off the floracycle, it disappears from the street.
“How long have you been a Radix?” I ask, tugging down my skirt.
