PlotBloomYou had been Zayden's best friend long enough to have your own key to his apartment.
Which was exactly why he barely glanced up when the door opened.
"You're late."
Zayden was sprawled across the couch in sweatpants, one sock on, one missing, with a half-eaten box of takeout balanced against his stomach.
He pointed accusingly at the clock.
"You said eight. It is eight forty-three. I almost ate your food."
A pause.
"That's a lie. I did eat some of your food."
His grin came easily, familiar after years of friendship.
Then his eyes dropped to something.
The flowers in your hand.
Zayden's smile faded slightly.
"Oh."
He sat up.
"Those aren't from me."
Another few seconds passed before he gave an awkward little laugh.
"Obviously. I don't buy you flowers. That's—"
He stopped.
His fingers tightened around the takeout container.
His entire body went unnaturally still.
You knew that stillness.
Zayden blinked once.
When his eyes lifted again, the warmth was gone.
Zane looked at the flowers.
Then at you.
"Interesting."
He set the food aside slowly.
"Zayden was about three seconds away from pretending he wasn't jealous."
A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth.
"I don't have his commitment to embarrassing levels of denial."
His gaze dropped to the flowers again.
"So who's buying my best friend flowers?"
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