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Chapter 31

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It's 9 AM as we head out to LA. We're actually supposed to go to work. It's Friday after all and Grant expects us to give our full day.

Though it's too hot to dress in my usual work clothes. I decided to change once we get to the office. For now, I'm in a yellow summer dress.

My window is down and I have my arm out, twirling my hand in the wind. Lucas is playing upbeat remixes and checking out my legs sneakily under his Ray-Bans.

To be fair, I'm also sneakily checking out his toned, tan, delicious arms. And if he puts his hand on my thigh, I might combust.

But, I'm glad he isn't. We're not there yet. Where are we, even? Who fucking knows. I still need to gather the courage to clarify. Just need to find the right moment and clear the air.

"Oh my God." My mouth drops when we approach what seems like an infinite field of flowers.

Red, yellow, orange, pink petals cover the land. It's the most stunning view I've ever seen.

"Oh my God." I repeat like a broken radio and stick out my head. "What is this beauty?"

"You've never been to Carlsbad Ranch?" Lucas wonders with amusement.

"I never knew heaven was on earth." Literally my nose is overwhelmed with floral perfume. I could die here. I would be a happy ghost.

And it doesn't stop. Lucas keeps driving seventy miles an hour and the flowers don't end. I don't want them to end. I want to move here and live in a tent.

Lucas suddenly pulls to the side and parks. I stare at him wide-eyed and frozen.

"Let's go." He drawls with some exasperation. "I know you want to check it out."

"Ugh, I do! But we need to go to work. This isn't right." I whine, folding forward in defeat.

Lucas scoffs. "The business won't collapse if we're an hour late. Come on."

He opens the door and I begrudgingly - who am I kidding, excitedly - open mine and practically run into the field.

"Layla!" Lucas screams after me, but I'm gone.

"Whoo!" I open my arms and dash down the nearest hill.

"The entrance is the other way you dumb fuck!" He yells. "Come back, you're going to get kicked out!"

"I don't care! I'll go to jail smelling amazing!" My smile hurts my cheeks as I get lost in the sea of flowers. They're all around me.

I spin and feel the petals on my fingertips, very careful not to anger the bees flying around.

Remembering that Lucas is here, I turn and see him still standing on top of the hill, staring at me with a brooding face and crossed arms.

"What are you doing? Come down!" I yell. To my relief, other people are far away, probably where the entrance is. I made a wise choice by being on this side.

"I'm fine. Just come back when you're done." He says.

"Are you kidding? You're missing out!"

"I'm fine, Layla."

"But who's going to take pictures of me?"

Lucas groans and starts to mosey down the hill. I shimmy a little and squeal.

Ever seen a hot man walk towards you in a field of flowers? It's quite a sight.

If he wasn't so unhappy. But he stopped the car for me, so I'm grinning. You can't not smile when you're around this many flowers.

"Hi." I smile cheekily when he stands before me.

"Hi." His reply is dry as he scowls, arms crossed around him.

"It's okay to enjoy yourself. Just because you're a delicate flower doesn't mean you have to be in competition with the rest of them."

He deadpans. "Give me your phone so I can take a picture, you monkey."

I pull out my phone, go on the Snapchat filter that makes me pretty, and instruct him precisely how to do it. He ignores all of my directions and does the exact opposite.

"Did you forget again that this is my job? Trust me." He rolls his eyes and brings the phone up in front of him. "Now, go do your thing."

We take a few pictures, but it's not as enjoyable as simply being in the moment. So after a few, I tell him that I'm good and thank him.

He proceeds to stand all stiff and uncomfortable. I want to cheer him up so I walk towards him and look up.

"What's wrong, moody patootie?"

He glares. "I'm not a moody patootie."

"You sure? You look like these flowers have insulted you."

He doesn't reply. The wind plays with his hair and I can't help but notice how attractive Lucas really is. His lips slowly pull up into a smirk as he stares back.

"What?" He asks.

"You're the prettiest flower of them all."

He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he appreciates the compliment.

"Kiss me." I blurt. My heart thumps but what the hell, it's already out. Maybe flowers give me wings.

Lucas doesn't hesitate. It's as if he was waiting for it. His fingers slowly lift to my face and he takes his time to dip his head and capture my lips in a smooth, lingering, knee-buckling kiss.

I turn into goo and touch his hands, because, how can I not? It's the most masculine thing and I think I'm sightly obsessed with them.

He pulls back a little and smirks at my melted reaction. "Better?"

"You seem to be a better." I reply cockily.

He smiles and kisses me again, this time more hungrily. His tongue drifts my lips open and I moan as my body tingles.

His thumb brushes my cheek and he gives me a few pecks before pulling away. I sigh contently.

"That was nice." I compliment.

"Glad you approve." He replies sarcastically.

Silence stretches between us and nerves flutter in my stomach. I need to ask him. I should.

"If I ask you something, can you please be honest?" I look up under my lashes tentatively.

He becomes serious too, but doesn't respond. My heart beats anxiously and I feel nauseous.

Do you like me?

I want to ask. I want to fucking ask.

But my heart is thumping painfully in my chest at the potential answer. Or the lack of it.

If he liked me, he would've said something already.

You don't ask a man how he feels. If he likes you, you'll know. That's what I believe. If I have to guess then that's a red flag. I need stability. I need to be sure. But I won't ask for it.

Because that puts me at risk of looking like a fool. Of being lied to. Of him telling me what he thinks I want to hear. And I don't want him to say something just to make me feel better.

"What's on your mind?" Lucas asks, studying my face with a small smile.

I lick my lips and look around. I can't punish him for his own emotions. Whether he likes me or not, I can't make him feel bad for it. He's his own person. He doesn't owe me anything.

"I was just remembering the last time we were surrounded by flowers in that restaurant in New York." I say.

I look at the flowers around and remember how he 'growled' at that waiter when I picked a pink flower. I still have that flower. It's in a small jewelry dish on my nightstand.

"You want to know a secret?" I ask him. His soft look tells me to continue. "I've loved flowers since I was little. I loved having them in my hair. But my dad didn't. And I forced myself to stop liking them. I think I've forced myself to not like a lot of things just to please him."

I swallow the shame and fear rising in my throat, wondering why I'm opening up to him.

Maybe it's to let him know that despite all the hard times I give him, I really appreciate the moments like this he's given me. No matter what his intentions are.

"I think it really sucks that your dad doesn't appreciate you." His deep voice startles my turmoil and I stare wide-eyed at him. He's scowling again, but it's not towards me.

He makes a tsk sound and shakes his head to himself, lost in his thoughts.

"It's okay. He has his own issues." I say quietly.

"So does everyone else. It's not an excuse." He stares into me. "You should know that."

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. He doesn't realize that my dad comes from poverty. That he was probably told by his parents that he's not worth anything if he doesn't become something.

Some people aren't lucky enough to be told otherwise. To hope and dream to live differently. It's not my place to judge him for it. Yeah, it hurts. But I'm not perfect either. Who knows what type of a parent I will be?

"Ready to go back?" I ask.

Lucas tilts his head as he observes me, but I really don't want to elaborate. I already feel exposed and vulnerable.

He sighs and uncrosses his arms. "Almost."

I watch him reach down and pick a yellow flower. He gives me a soft, playful look and lifts it to my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

"Ah, fuck." He mutters when it falls down.

"It's too short." I stifle a giggle.

He bends down to pick it up and curses even louder, quickly jumping up.

"Oh my God, did you get stung?" My eyes go wide when I see the bee stinger on his inner forearm.

"Yeah... " He groans and flicks the stinger off. "Let's go." He motions for me to get in front of him and we walk back to his car.

When we get in, he starts the car and opens his palm with the yellow flower inside.

"Here." He places it on my lap and brushes his fingers over my thighs when he pulls back.

"Thanks." I mumble, securing it behind my ear. It matches my dress.

He smiles a little as I admire myself in the mirror and turns the upbeat music back on.

A part of me is disappointed that I didn't gather the courage to ask. I spend about ten minutes, going through a mental list of pros and cons on why I should ask him now.

1) We're in the car; he has no room to run.
2) When we go back, I'll know exactly where we stand.
3) We won't be distracted with projects or people.
4) If I don't ask now, it might get even more awkward later.

I'm going to ask.

"Lucas, I need to ask you— oh my fucking God what happened to your arm!?"

His forearm is entirely red and swollen. A terrifying circle is protruding around the bee sting. Inside the circle is a darker, redder circle.

"It's fine." He mutters, eyes on the road.

"Are you allergic to bee stings?" My voice can't calm down, I am screaming.

"No, I'm allergic to you." He rolls his eyes. "Calm down, I'll be fine."

My knees do that weird shiver when you witness something physically painful. It looks like he needs to go to the hospital.

"Are you aware that bee allergies get progressively worse the more you get bit? Have you had a reaction like this before?" I press.

"No... but I'll stop by the pharmacy and get some medication for it."

"You can't go to work, you're going to break into a fever."

Lucas doesn't respond. But he's gripping the steering wheel. And he looks uncomfortable.

"Oh my God." I cover my mouth with my hands.

"What now." He drawls.

"You love me."

"What?!" He scowls, distorting his face.

"You shoved your hand in the valley of death, you knew there were bees there. I mean they were all around. That's why you wouldn't come down the hill. That's why you had your arms crossed the whole time!"

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to get bit." He states obviously. "How the fuck do you assume that I love you because of it."

A sly grin spreads across my face. "You are whipped for me."

"Are you high?"

I throw my head back and laugh, clapping my hands. "Oh my God, Lucas! You love me! You really love me."

"You're fucking scaring me."

I wipe my tears from laughing. "Oh, I'm getting emotional. You cutie patootie. You risked your life just to pick me a little flower? Aw, are you going to propose too?"

"Just shut up. I regret this already."

"Aw, Lucas is going to put a ring on this."

"My God..."

"I am too young to get married. We can't. Not unless you make a lot of money. Then I might consider it. But also, I'm going to need you to cook, cause that sexy hand flip you did in the morning, God damn. I'd pay to see it again."

Lucas bumps the music to the highest volume, deafening my ears. I just laugh harder.

"You are whipped, my boy! Whipped! But really we should get you to the hospital."

~ A/N ~
Well, safe to assume that Layla's not going to stress out for a while LOL