Life With Mr. Malik (ON HOLD)

Chapter 7: Unexpected Gifts

The next day, I woke up and found Austin’s face a couple of inches from mine. Startled, I jerked up, hitting my forehead with his. He stumbled backwards, his feet getting caught on the carpet and fell down.

“Jesus Christ.” I said, rubbing my forehead. “What was that for, you idiot?” I asked in annoyance as I threw my hotdog pillow at him.

“I wanted to wake you up.” He said as he stood up.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Standing over me like that in complete silence was bound to rouse me from my sleep.” I said, mastering the arts of sarcasm. I swung my legs to the side of the bed and walked to my closet to get a jacket only to spot something lying on my dresser.

And as if I had just spotted a bomb that would activate due to any sudden movement, I began to carefully walk closer to it.

The thing was yellow . . .

And pink . . .

And green.

It was definitely something I never knew I’d be seeing.

SPONGEBOB AND PATRICK!

Alright, I was kidding. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the famous sponge and starfish from Bikini Bottom but instead . . .

A bouquet of flowers.

Yes, folks. It is true! I, Mildred Everley, the most awkward and anti-social female specimen known to science, have received a bouquet of flowers. Hold the applause! No flash photography please! 

“Wow.” I whispered, taking the bouquet in my arms with the same look of love and affection a mother possesses when she gets handed her baby for the first time. “Who’s this from?”

Austin shrugged, leaning over to see the flowers. “No idea. It came this morning.”

“It’s probably not mine, then.” I said.

Seriously. Who would send me flowers?

I don’t even know that many guys my age! I only know about five: Austin, Zayn, Matt, Garrett and the newspaper boy whose aim sucks so bad, I have to go into the bushes just to get the morning paper.

And by bushes, I meant rose bushes.

Austin looked at me blankly like what I said was the most ridiculous thing ever, which it might actually be. “It’s probably for mom. I’ll go and put this in her room.” I started walking to the door.

“You’re kidding, right?” Austin laughed as he followed right behind me. “What? Did dad magically find some fresh flowers in the deserts of Pakistan?”

I stopped halfway across the hallway that connected my room to the master’s bedroom.

I guess he’s right about that one. My dad couldn’t possibly have had the time to send my mom flowers. He’s probably too busy polishing his rifle or something.

But if it wasn’t from my dad, then who?!

“You don’t think . . .” I said worriedly.

Austin’s eyes widened, clarifying that he knew exactly what I meant. “Of course not.” He forced down a nervous gulp. “Do you?”

I looked at the flowers in my arms. “They sure don’t look like congratulatory flowers to me.”

“Mom couldn’t. She wouldn’t.” Austin said.

“But dad has been gone for about a year and a half now. Don’t you think it’s only normal for a woman her age to go craving for love?” I asked him, forgetting just how little emotional capacity Austin had.