Wide awake

Chapter Twenty Nine. Brown Sugar Burdens

E.P.O.V

I raked my fingers through my hair and knit my eyebrows together at all the assortments. Fucking flowers. There were colors everywhere, and they still all looked the same to me. I sighed and shook my head, turning around the florist shop to find out where the hell my wing man went.

I didn’t know the first thing about this shit, and since Brandon had already given Jazz a lengthy crash course in floral wisdom, I dragged his ass along with me. He agreed without much hesitation, and then ended up fucking disappearing on me. Bastard.

I eventually found him standing beside a bucket of roses, pursing his lips at them with his hands shoved in his holey jean pockets.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Roses?” I asked dryly. Pretty fucking cliché, Brandon would never be satisfied with that shit.

He snorted at me. “Alice would never be satisfied with that shit.” He muttered, shaking his head and echoing my thoughts so exactly, it freaked me out a little. He cleared his throat and waved me over to another aisle of flowers. I followed him through the aisles curiously, wondering how much help he could actually be.

He strode to a purple bouquet of flowers and plucked them from their basket, turning to face me and raising his eyebrows. “These are carnations. Some people think that they lack class, but it’s a fact that they are an exceptionally beautiful flower.” He sniffed the bouquet, his grubby blonde hair grazing them in a stark contrast as he held my gaze. “Purple flowers represent dignity, and royalty. An arrangement filled with purple blooms represents accomplishment and admiration.” He said in a matter of fact tone. And I kind of fucking gaped at his grubby ass, standing there lecturing me on flowers like he was reading notes that Brandon made him study.

He rolled his eyes at me. “You get these for Esme, not Bella.” He tossed them in my hands, where I caught them while I still stared at him in shock. He moved to another basket, plucking up a bouquet of yellow flowers, turning to me with a serious expression. “She thinks I don’t know, but daises are Alice’s favorite. Yellow represents lightheartedness, joy, and friendship. It’s also Alice’s favorite color. You’ll get brownie points.” He tossed them into my arms along with the purple flowers and moved on to another basket.

He pursed his lips, plucking up individual flowers and arranging them while speaking. “Bella’s has to be more significant.” I gawked at him while he slid two types of flowers into a plastic bouquet wrapper. “White lilies represent innocence and reverence. They’re elegant and subtly majestic.” He furrowed his brows in concentration and began adding blue flowers. “The deep blues of an iris can calm worries and preoccupation; representing peace, openness, and serenity.” He nodded at the finished arrangement in his hands and tossed them at me with pretty fucking smug expression.

I was so fucking… disturbed. It was like hearing him read from a Cosmopolitan or some shit. I stared at his smug smirk in equal parts awe and worry. “Jazz, dude…” I started in a disapproving voice, shaking my head slowly. “I think your vagina is showing.” I choked.

His smirk fell as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Fuck. You. Prick.” He growled, spinning on his heel and leaving the shop while I continued gawking at his back, pretty fucking troubled by his complete knowledge of all things floral.

I didn’t apologize on the way to his house, but I did thank him. That shit was just so un-Jazz that he couldn’t be shocked by my reaction. He eventually blew it off, getting out of the car and shooting me a pointed glance that said, No more vagina jokes, bitch.

When I got home at four, with three fucking bouquets of flowers, Carlisle quirked an eyebrow at me in interest as I passed his study.

I rolled my eyes as I passed, not stopping and not looking at him. “Don’t fucking ask.” I muttered, shaking my head and continuing up the stairs to my room, feeling really ridiculous.