“I don’t understand,” Jared admits finally.
My lips twitch. “Flowers have their own language. Each flower has a meaning. It can change, depending on colors and numbers. It’s called floriography.”
This feels familiar. I’ve had this discussion before, with another Bennett brother. But Jared isn’t satisfied with the basics. “Explain the story to me.”
“Please,” I mutter.
“Please.” His eyes are pinned on me when I glance at him. “I’d like to know.”
I swallow. “I started with aspen leaf. Fear, for the night we met. We… he was at the bar, and we had a blackout. That’s how we met, really.”
“So… hescaredyou?”
I half-smile. “He saved me, actually. I don’t like the dark. Ben pulled me out of it and walked me home.”
“Aspen leaf.” He shakes his head. “I had no idea.”
He doesn’t ask me why I’m scared of the dark, and I don’t offer. But I share some parts with him, the parts I can talk about, until we reach Angelo’s door. “Where were you going, anyway?”
He glances up and down the street, his eyebrows raising. “Nowhere important.”
I gesture to the door. “Well, this is me. See you later?”
“Yeah.” He slips his hands into his pockets. “Thanks. For sharing that with me. I’m never going to look at flowers the same way again. They were beautiful.”
The small smile feels unfamiliar, pulling up my lips. “A whole new world. And thank you.”
I watch him walk away, back in the same direction. I bite down on my lip before I call out.
Before I callhimout. “Jared?”
He turns immediately.
“Are you going to follow me home again tonight?”
A red tint flushes his cheekbones. But he rocks back on his heels, one eyebrow raising. “Probably.”
He doesn’t deny it. I haven’t seen him. But I know he’s there.
He doesn’t technically walk me home. But Jared still makes sure I get home after every shift.
“You may as well walk with me.” For the first time in weeks, my chest feels warm. Full. “Instead of creeping around behind me.”
Jared Bennett smiles at me, then. A true smile, that changes his face into something that makes my heart flip. Because in that moment, he reminds me ofBen, the resemblance so strong that my breath catches in my throat. “See you later, Emilia.”
“Bye, Jared.”
36
Jared
I’m not performing tonight.
So there’s no logical explanation for why I’m here at The Setlist, sliding onto a stool and categorically not looking in Emilia’s direction.
I’ve been here pretty much every night for the last month. Doing a set, then hanging out before walking Emilia home.
Sometimes we talk. Most of the time, we don’t.
