15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

LEWIS

"Lew—" Rowan's voice cuts through the sound of blood rushing in my ears, but just barely. I drag in another uneven breath and exhale with a sound that I hate to admit is pathetically close to a sob. "What the hell happened?"

Hearing his normally calm, measured voice turn savage with a protective growl has a tight laugh bursting from my lips, but that sounds like a sob too if I'm being honest. This is far from the first time my best friend has caught me with my head between my legs, mid panic attack, but this is the inaugural panic attack for this new store location. Feels like a significant moment. Maybe I should mark it on the calendar so we can celebrate it yearly.

His shoes scuff along the cement floor, and a second later, he presses his warm hand to the middle of my back.

"Deep, slow breaths," he says, rubbing soothing circles.

I swallow down the urge to say something snarky back to him. I know how to breathe my way through a meltdown, thank you very much. But he's just trying to help, and also, I don't have the energy to be bitchy when I'm using it all to pick apart a hundred different moments with Arrow, looking for signs that it was all nothing more than a joke to him. That I was a joke to him.

My face burns hot and my throat tightens when I think about last night. I put my hands over my face and let out a stifled sound of embarrassment. I pry my hands off of my face and sit up slowly. Row already has a box of tissues at the ready, and I grab a few to start cleaning myself up.

"Fuck. The store." I look helplessly towards the door, and he squeezes my shoulder.

"I locked the door and put up a sign that we're out for lunch."

"Thanks," I murmur, then blow my nose. "Not that we're probably going to be missing any customers anyway. They're all too busy out in the parking lot, lining up to take pictures with the hot, shirtless goat dude."

He chuckles. "Yeah, that prank kind of backfired. But they all have, so I'd say you and the tattoo guys are still tied."

My chest squeezes. "He's one of them."

His bushy eyebrows furrow with momentary confusion, and then understanding and a flicker of guilt replaces it. My face burns hot again and my gut clenches.

"You knew?" I gasp. "You fucking knew?" I throw my wad of used tissues on the ground and move to stand up.

Rowan stops me with both hands on my shoulders though, pushing me back into the chair and stooping down to meet me at eye level like I'm some toddler throwing a tantrum. If I didn't love my bestie so much, I might be tempted to kick him in the shins.

"Only since yesterday," he says.

"Judas," I hiss. "They've been over there laughing their asses off about me and you let me get blindsided? He was fucking me and then getting together with his asshole friends to describe my sex noises."

"He wasn't describing your sex noises to his friends," Row says firmly.

"How do you know? I knew he was too nice. It was all an act to get me to let my guard down just so he could humiliate me."

There's a tiny, naive voice in the back of my head that thinks I'm being dramatic. It whispers that no one could fake the way Arrow looked at me last night, that there's no way he lay awake until dawn telling me about his childhood just to pull some elaborate prank on me.

That voice has to be the last remnant of the trusting, starry-eyed version of myself that has been slowly stripped away by one bad relationship after another over the years. If this situation doesn't stamp out that voice, I'm not sure anything will. But that doesn't make it right, just stupid and romantic.

I clench my eyes closed and shake it off.

"He came in here before your date yesterday. That's how I found out," Row explains. "He had no clue you worked here."

I scoff and grab another tissue to blow my nose with. "Or he's just a really good actor."

He flattens his lips and levels me with a look. "Come on, you don't really believe that."

"I don't know what I believe," I answer honestly. I did meet Arrow before this whole thing with the goblin twink started, and it does seem extreme that he would go to these lengths for a stupid feud over the Barbie soundtrack.

But on some level, it makes a lot more sense that this is all just some mean, fucked-up way to beat me at this dumb game rather than that Arrow is actually the great guy he seems to be and that he's really falling for me.

I swallow around my dry throat and let out a deep sigh, my whole body weighed down by the exhaustion of another heartbreak and the aftereffects of a panic attack. Rowan stands back up and grabs a bottle of water from the stash we keep on a shelf in the back. He twists off the cap and hands it to me. I sip it slowly, the silence in the back of the shop ringing in my ears and my hands trembling.

"It was really cute, actually," Rowan says, plopping down on the floor right in front of me and folding his arms on his knees. "He came up to the register to ask for my advice. He said he'd never gotten flowers for a guy before, but he didn't want to be cliché and just get roses. He said he had a date with a special guy he wanted to impress."

My heart lurches, but I roll my eyes and keep sipping my water.

"So you told him to get me the purple orchid?" I say. "It wasn't a sign that he understood me on a deep level and somehow managed to pick out the exact right flower, it was just my best friend meddling."

"A sign?" He scoffs at me this time. "Come on, Lew. Why does it always have to be some divine master plan? Some things just are . You should see how much you've been smiling since you started seeing him."

"Good orgasms put me in a delightful mood, so I should brush off the fact that he might have been playing me and run right back into his arms?"

"If it was honestly nothing but good sex, then maybe not." He shrugs. "Maybe this thing has run its course anyway and today was a good excuse to end it."

I narrow my eyes at him. I hate when he does this reverse psychology shit.

"Fine, I'm glad we're in agreement."

Rowan nods. "Sure. Of course, if it was more than just sex, if he was making you feel things you desperately tried to stamp out of yourself ages ago and treating you so well it made you suspicious of his motives, it might be worth at least talking to him before you take the nuclear option."

My heart flutters and my stomach jolts with all the hope and feelings I'm trying not to deal with right now. I know I owe it to Arrow and myself to at least talk to him, but I'm not sure I can face it.

ARROW

I don't have a clue what time it is, but it's dark by the time I round the corner onto my street. I've spent the day riding around to clear my head and making plenty of stops so Gregory could stretch his legs. I'm not sure I'm any further ahead than I was this morning though.

Lewis thinks he's nothing but the butt of a joke, and with his self-professed trust issues, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to say anything to convince him otherwise. One thing the ride did shake loose in my brain though is that I acted like a total asshole. This wasn't Jag's fault, and it wasn't Piston's either. It wasn't anyone's fault, it's just a mess, simple as that.

I'm not surprised to see four Harleys parked in my driveway when I pull up, but a relieved laugh swells in my chest anyway. Fuck knows how I'm going to make things right with Lewis, but at least there's one thing I can count on—the same thing I've counted on for years.

I cut my engine and pull my helmet off, then let Gregory out of his harness. My garage door is wide open, and the little mutt goes running straight for the guys, yapping excitedly the whole way. They're all sitting around inside, just like usual, lounging on various chairs and surfaces, each with a beer in hand.

"Sure, help yourself," I tease gruffly.

Jag sits up straighter, tilting his beer to his lips while he reaches to his side and lifts up a six pack with two bottles left in it.

"Brought our own," he says with a chill in his voice that reminds me I lost my cool earlier. Piston extends his leg and kicks Jag's foot, shooting him a pointed look. Jag rolls his eyes and then offers me the nearly empty cardboard packaging. "They're a peace offering. I'm…" He clears his throat. "Sorry."

I bite back a laugh and refrain from pointing out that they all helped themselves to my "peace offering." I pull out one of the bottles and set the other one aside, then drag a folding chair over to sit down on. I twist the cap off and bring the bottle to my lips. The flavor of it hitting my tongue reminds me that I didn't bother stopping to eat or drink all day.

"What are you sorry for?" I ask after I swallow a few gulps. I know I owe him an apology of my own. I'll get around to it, it's just so rare that Jag apologizes for anything that I want to savor this moment first.

He casts a scathing look at Piston, who keeps a cool face and just nods to prompt him with whatever he must have coached him on earlier. I rub my hand over my mouth to hide my grin. I can just imagine the stern talking to he gave Jag after everything went down. They jokingly call me Daddy, but Piston can definitely whip out the Daddy vibes when it's necessary.

"For carrying on this stupid feud when I should have…" He grits his teeth and sighs. "Handled it like an adult."

I chuckle. "Don't hurt yourself there, man." I lean forward and pat his leg. "You didn't know who Lewis was. It's fine." I squeeze his knee and then sit back again. "I'm sorry I flew off the handle earlier. I saw that look of devastation and betrayal on his face, and I just fucking lost it."

"Somebody want to fill the rest of us in? I've been busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest trying to figure out what the hell happened this morning," Tex says.

I take a deep breath and give him the abridged version, keeping the best details to myself, like the way I haven't been able to get the sound of his moans out of my head since that first day in the rainstorm, or how fucking cute Lewis's punny names for his plants are. When Tex and Hero are caught up, I turn my attention to Piston.

"How the hell did you make the connection and why didn't you tell me?" I growl.

"I didn't know for sure. I looked up the flower shop and followed the rabbit hole to his personal social media page. I figured there couldn't be too many pretty, blue eyed twinks named Lewis living in Fall Crosse, but I wasn't ruling out that it was just a hell of a coincidence."

"You should have told me." I huff and take another drink from my bottle.

He ducks his head and then nods. "I should have."

"No more secrets. It fucks with everything when we keep shit from each other." I'm aware I'm guilty in my own way, after downplaying everything for weeks and keeping everything about Lewis to myself.

Piston bobbles his head again. "No more secrets," he agrees, reaching across the space between us to offer me his hand. I take it in a firm shake, getting up out of my chair and pulling him up too so I can tug him into a back slapping hug.

"Touching moment, guys, but it kind of ruins the circle jerk vibe I was hoping we could get going tonight," Hero deadpans.

I let Piston go and grab Hero in a headlock. We laugh and roughhouse for a minute before I push him away.

"If you only joined this club hoping it would eventually turn into an orgy, I'm afraid you're in for a major disappointment." I pat his cheek.

"Bummer." He chuckles, and we both sit back down.

"So, this prank thing is over?" I check with Jag.

"Yeah, yeah." He waves me off. "It was a nice distraction for a few weeks though. Now I'm going to have to go back to trolling for ass to keep myself entertained."

"Hey, if you're interested, I know a guy who's just your type. I can set you two up," Tex offers.

Jag tips his chair onto its back legs and then nods. "Maybe. I'll let you know the next time I'm desperate."

"Fair enough," Tex agrees with a snort.

"So, anyone have any brilliant ideas how I can convince Lewis that I honestly had no clue he was the flower shop twink? He's convinced it was all part of a prank."

Jag cackles. "That's some devious shit. I'm sorry this is a mess for you, but I'm going to take a second to savor the fact that I fucked with him so thoroughly that he's fucking with himself without me having to lift a finger. I'm in his head."

I growl and dart my foot out to knock the chair out from under him. He clatters to the floor with a curse.

"You deserved that one," Hero says.

Jag huffs, getting up and dusting himself off.

"Sorry," I mutter as he sets his chair upright and sits back down.

"We could sign a notarized letter," Hero suggests.

"That's very official, I like it." Tex nods in agreement.

"You guys are idiots." I sigh.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I figured you wanted advice other than ‘fucking talk to him like a goddamn adult,'" Hero says.

"Just 'cause there's ducks, doesn't make it a pond," Tex says unhelpfully.

"As delightful as your down-homesy sayings are, I don't have a fucking clue what that means."

He smirks. "Age doesn't make you an adult."

I let out a small chuckle. Fine, he's got a point there.

"Do you think it's as simple as just talking to him?" I ask.

Piston shrugs. "Only one way to find out."

A pair of headlights illuminate the night behind me and I crane my neck to see who's pulling into my driveway.

"Did you guys order food?"