Page 109 of Crushed By Love

All hell breaks loose.

The crowd separates for the fight and the men don’t hold back. They’re yelling obscenities and fighting with ruthless drunken abandon. Sybil is suddenly there, pulling me away from the fight, and then so are Perry’s friends. With Cooper’s help, they manage to peel the guys off each other. And then the bouncer is there too, and we’re all getting our asses kicked out of the club.

We stumble out into the parking lot and only then does the gravity of the situation hit me—these men fought over me. What idiots. How old are they again? Twenty-six? And here I’d thought they’d matured with age.

“I can take care of myself,” I hiss at Ethan and then turn on Perry, “and you should know better. I said just friends and I meant it.”

Everyone’s staring at me like they’re seeing me for the first time, especially Sybil. I reach out for her hand. “Let’s go home.”

“You guys need to grow up and leave us alone,” she yells at Cooper and Ethan, as if taking Perry’s side is a given. It irks me.

“That’s what I’ve been telling them,” Perry says.

“Oh, shut up, Perry,” Sybil adds and I’m not so irked anymore.

Hand in hand, my cousin and I stride away.

“I’m so sorry,” Sybil rushes her words. “I didn’t realize I was sending you into that mess. Last I heard Perry had a falling out with the twins. I didn’t realize it was bad enough for them to fight about it.”

Or about me . . . but I don’t say as much.

I tell her it’s okay and then unable to stop myself, I look back at the group of men. They’re not arguing or fighting anymore, they’re just watching us. All five of them. Of course it’s Ethan’s fiery gaze that captures mine. His lip is bloodied, his hair is a mess, and his shirt is ripped. But none of those things compare to the intensity in his eyes.

And the hopelessness.

Hours later, after combing over every detail in my mind, I finally fall asleep, and those hopeless eyes haunt my dreams. Because as much as I wish I didn’t, I understand exactly how Ethan feels.

The next morning I’m eating breakfast at the kitchen island when Chandler carries in the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen. At least three dozen velvety red roses lay intermixed with sprigs of baby’s breath and small fig leaves. They’re in a crystal vase and he sets it down right in front of me without saying a word, going to the fridge and retrieving the gallon of orange juice.

“These are pretty,” I say, admiring the arrangement. I’ve always loved flower arrangements even if I’ve never been on the receiving end of one.

“I don’t like roses,” he states so matter-of-factly that I snort.

“What’s wrong with roses?”

“Too smelly.” He makes a face as he pours the OJ all the way up to the rim of his glass, then carefully lifts it to his mouth and drinks, releasing an audible ahhh when he’s finished with the first large gulp. “Hope you like roses though.”

“Why?”

“They’re for you.”

My heart flutters. For me? I assumed Aunt Amelia had them delivered to brighten up the house. She loves fresh flowers, always has them around. I quickly locate the little white card tucked between roses with my name scrawled across the front and open it. The message is short and penned in neat boxy handwriting.

Sin from my lips? O, trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again.

PS: I’m sorry.

As cliche as it is, I swear my heart skips a beat. I know exactly who sent these flowers and penned this note.

Memories of laying in Ethan’s bed and watching the Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes film version of Shakespeare’s tragedy flit through my mind. He started calling me Juliet after that. This quote is direct from the star-crossed lovers themselves when Juliet said it was a sin to kiss Romeo and he replied with how sweet it was to sin, that he wanted to do it again.

Ethan and I have become those star-crossed lovers with our family obligations keeping us apart—and our pride. He’s an idiot for fighting with Perry last night but this apology might just make up for that display of masculine toxicity. It may even make up for a few other mistakes he’s made with me.

I take the flowers up to my room, placing them on the dresser, then sit and stare at the card for the better part of an hour, my thumb running over the words again and again.

Forty-Seven

“Did you ever get your driver’s license?” I corner Hayes after lunch. My aunt and uncle are gone for the afternoon and Sybil is laying down for a nap after our morning on the beach. As for me? I can’t stop thinking about Ethan. He’s like the sunburn on my shoulders, persistent and irritating and begging for relief.

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