I Don't Mix Business with Pleasure

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷

𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷

"I'm going to go fire up the grill. You want to come out with me, Landon?"

I don't want to leave Florence, and I look at her for confirmation, but she's too busy paying attention to her brothers to notice that I'm trying to get her attention. We've both learned to communicate with each other through facial expressions.

I nod, reluctantly following him to the back patio door, and go outside with him. My head is spinning with a million different thoughts. I can't stop thinking about the shit that Hudson pulled. I don't think I'll ever be able to trust him around Florence again. He keeps trying to call me and apologize, but I don't want to hear it.

"So, I know when my sister is lying to me." Lars laughs, lifting the lid to the grill. His laugh sounds put on and fake. He's trying to pretend his dad didn't just die a week ago, but he's terrible at it.

"What about?" I ask, trying my best to sound clueless. I'm not the best at lying. In fact, I fucking suck at it.

"Come on, man. I'm the observer of the family. I notice everything. You two can't pull one over on me." he raises an eyebrow, struggling to get the grill to light. "Screw this, I can't focus." he huffs, pulling a mint tin out of his pocket. He opens it, revealing a small joint. He puts it to his lips and lights it, breathing a sigh of relief.

It hasn't even been a minute since he tried to get the grill to work. His patients, wearing thin and needing weed to cope with such a minor inconvenience, says it all.

"I like her a lot. I think she feels the same- at least, I hope she does. She's given me mixed signals today for sure."

I watch as he puts the joint back to his lips. He seems anxious and different from how he acted in front of his siblings. I wonder if he's struggling more than he's giving off. His facial expressions resemble Florence's when she's upset or hiding something. I don't think I'd be able to pick up on it if they didn't look so similar. If I knew him a little better, I'd try to get him to open up to me, but I don't.

"She's just struggling right now. She will come around. She likes you, man. When you're not paying attention, she's staring at you. Again, I'm the observer of the family."

The joint bobs up and down, hanging between his lips with each frustrated movement and jerk as he tries to continue and light the grill. It doesn't work, so he slams the lid shut.

I would offer to help, but I've never used one before. It's refreshing to be around people who have been forced to learn these things independently- or had their parents to teach them. My dad has never made an effort to teach me shit. Everyone looks up to him, but he's never been a good parent- not like my mother was. I've always had everything handed to me from the day I was born. I always wanted to be normal, though- like this.

"Fuck this grill- fuck it to hell. I need August to help me unless you maybe know how to work one?" he asks, dropping the joint on the deck and putting it out with his shoe.

"I wouldn't know the first thing," I laugh.

"That's alright, August to the rescue. The man can work anything. Watch him start it within ten seconds and put us to shame," he laughs.

I follow Lars back inside and almost run into the back of him as he abruptly stops, muttering, "What the fuck," under his breath.

My heart jumps into my throat when I see some guy with his arms wrapped around Florence. She's lifted off of the ground, her feet dangling above the floor as he moves his body from side to side. His hands are a little too close for comfort. I can't get too far ahead of myself. He could be a friend- or maybe even family. Even if he is just a friend, this feels too much of an intimate hug. I don't want to feel this way, but I feel jealous- very jealous. I'm a man who knows when another man is savoring someone's scent or touch. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face into her hair. Her hair smells like tangerine and vanilla. I know because I do the same thing. Who is this guy?