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And I stand in front of a canvas with a paintbrush and his boxers on, painting pineapples and John.
I.
Am.
Losing.
My.
Mind.
Those boxers. Those aremyfucking pineapples. And those pineapples are closer to Lu than I am, touching her where I want to touch her.
Coincidence? Fuck coincidences. There are too many, and I already confirmed some of my suspicions.
I get online and order Lu flowers. No signature, just a “Thank you” note.
There are a dozen things by now that I can thank her for.
For awful grits.
For morning coffee.
For cooking me dinners.
For making me smile.
For being kind and sweet.
For her hot palms that leave invisible imprints on my body, her cute plush socks, the paint smudges that make me smile, and a hundred other things.
Lu calls in the evening.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she says softly.
And pineapples, I assume, which are her new inspiration.
For the first time, we chat on the phone for over an hour. When she hangs up, I want to call her again right away. And I fucking miss her more than ever.
Roey studies me with what looks like approval. “Finally, you are using your heart instead of overthinking.”
“My heart, huh?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Is this coming from you, Torres?”
“I am a heartless motherfucker, Jace. I’m not made for this swoony stuff. But you, you finally met someone meant for you. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Yeah. I just need to untangle a pack of lies I created.”
“Well, before you do that, let’s untangle the plan of action for tomorrow.”
Later, we get out of the hotel to grab dinner in a shopping plaza. We walk past a perfume shop when a girl walks out, and a smell wafts off her, a smell that triggers the longing in my heart.Hers.
I walk in and ask forEuphoria.
Roey’s eyes follow my every move, but he doesn’t say a word. There’s no mockery in his eyes, no smirks.
“It’s a present,” I say.
I can bullshit Roey as much as I want, but he sees through people, just not himself.
