Poinsettia Lane

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

EVERLY LEADS ASIM through the kitchen, around the back living/dining area and out the massive glass double doors to the red brick patio overlooking a wide, grassy yard. She doesn’t have any shoes on yet, so she remains on the patio rug, curling her socked toes against the woven fibers, and points along the side of the house where the patio ends and the lawn begins. The yard is terraced there with a stone retaining wall intersecting the green grass, mortared stone stairs along one side leading down to the lower level.

“That’s the area I had in mind. I think putting some plants along the terrace instead of grass would be really nice, but you’re the plant person so if you have a better idea I’m all ears," Everly says.

“No, I agree," Asim says. “We can definitely make that work. I saw the plants out front on the driveway, do you have a wheelbarrow? I can haul them back here while you find some shoes.” His lips press together and his eyes crinkle up again, sparkling with amusement as they flick down to her fuzzy-socked feet.

“Yeah, yeah. I like to be cozy, okay?”

Everly scrunches her nose, only a touch embarrassed that not only are they fuzzy, but they also have cute fox faces on the ends with the nose right over the middle of her toes. She thinks they’re adorable. Obviously, it’s not something she normally wears in front of others, but it’s a little chilly out today so she wanted thicker socks for their yard work. Besides, she’s supposed to be herself and not hide anymore, right? This is her daily contribution to that goal.

Everly points out the shed along the side of the house by the garage where Asim can hopefully find a wheelbarrow. She turns to go back inside, but looks back over her shoulder as she’s walking through the doors, one hand braced against the doorframe next to her shoulder to see him striding confidently across the lawn. Everly thinks she could probably stare at him all day long and never get bored, then realizes how creepy that is and vows to rein in the weirdo vibes.

She manages to dig some old tennis shoes out of the back of her closet, throws her hair into a quick braid, and by the time she’s outside on the patio again, Asim is already wheeling the last of the plants over. He’s taken his leather jacket off and draped it over a patio chair, and yep, his long sleeved henley is exactly what she hoped it would be. Clearly worn, but not in a ragged way, it stretches across his chest and hugs his shoulders, thin enough that she gets a hint at the muscles of his chest and back as he lowers the wheelbarrow and unloads the plants. There is no hinting at those biceps though; those are on full display and Everly is not at all unhappy about it.

Asim steps around the side of the patio, brows slightly furrowed, nudging the toe of his boot into the grass and bouncing his eyes between the house, the ground, and the sky. He asks her about the lighting, her sprinkler system, and overall what aesthetic she’s going for and what she wants to change. Everly basically wings it with her answers, as she doesn’t actually know any of those things, and thinks she does pretty well all things considered. Asim chatters about what plants work well together, and discusses how they’ll need to change her watering schedule for this area since the native plants won’t need nearly as much water as the grass currently does. Everly nods along and they set everything out approximately where it will be planted.

“Is there anything else you have that can fill it in a bit more? I think I want a fuller look rather than so much open space," Everly says, one finger tapping her chin as she skims her eyes over their arrangement.

“Of course, how about this,” Asim says, “I’ll pull up the grass and we can see how far we get today. Once we have these in the ground with the proper space they’ll need to fully mature, we can take a second look and pick up a few more things to fill in where you want? I have some ideas in mind, but a couple of the ones I’m thinking of are still in the back greenhouse as they aren’t quite ready for sale yet. I wanted them to fill out a bit more first, but there may be a couple established enough to be planted in the next couple weeks.”

“That sounds great!”

“Let’s get to it.” Asim picks up a shovel with far more enthusiasm than Everly thinks the situation warrants. She’s assuming he found the shovel in the shed with the wheelbarrow, along with the other tools laid out on the patio, and truly he looks way too excited about the idea of digging.

“What should I do? How can I help?” Everly asks.

“I’ll start tearing up the turf here, and maybe you can drag it off to the side so it’s out of the way. We can decide what to do with it later.” She helps Asim move the plants back to the patio for now, but keeps them organized in an approximation of the way they were situated on the terrace.

Then they get to work. It’s impossible not to watch the way his arms flex and move with every strike of the shovel. As Asim cuts through the grass in neat squares and levers it up, his shirt starts to stick to the sweat forming along his back, and he pauses to push his sleeves up to his elbows. The tendons in his forearms are corded, making his tattoos look like they’re moving while he works. His tattoo sleeve isn’t the style of traditional Western artwork she had initially assumed it to be, but an intricate black and gray design of plants interspersed with some Arabic here and there. The writing is elegant, a beautiful script that intersects with the vines. She wants to ask him about it, but doesn't want to interrupt the methodical pace he has set, and now probably isn’t the time for that anyways. Reminding herself not to be nosy, she refocuses on the task at hand.

Everly drags and stacks the slabs of grass the best she can as Asim digs them up, but the muscles in her arms are burning sooner than she’d like to admit and she’s quickly short of breath. She had no idea grass was so heavy. She takes her sweater off after the fourth one, thanking her earlier self for thinking to put a tank top on underneath it, and puffs out a breath of air as she bends down for the next.

A short time later, Everly pauses to swipe a strand of hair from her sticky face with her forearm, then turns back to where Asim is tossing the next strip of grass in her direction. He slows to a stop while reaching back down for the shovel and his eyes scan her face, then down her arms, before connecting with hers.

Asim straightens up and strides over to her, pulling a small towel out of his back pocket and unfolding it.

“You have some dirt,” he says as he raises the cloth to her cheekbone below her left eye. “Just here.” The towel is soft and dry against her skin as he gently brushes it off; she wishes it was his hands rasping along her skin, not the cloth. His eyes are bright and his skin glistens in the sun.

“Oh," her reply is breathy, and that one word seems to be all she knows how to say at the moment. Standing so close to him, she picks up his earthy scent again and forces herself not to lean in and sniff him.

Asim quirks a smile, then playfully tugs the end of her braid, and suddenly she is burning for a whole different reason. That one action has moved the fire from her arm muscles straight down to her core, and her eyes flare when she instinctively holds in what she absolutely will not acknowledge was about to be a whimper.

He tucks the towel back into his pocket and turns around, bends down to pick up the shovel again—apparently oblivious to her body’s reaction to him. Everly’s eyes dart around, landing on the tools, his jacket, the patio table, searching for a reprieve.

“Do you want a refresh on your water? I think I’ll grab some more ice for mine," she says.

“Sure, that would be great.” Asim slams the shovel down into the grass again, and her eyes catch on his arms with the movement. She doesn’t even notice she hasn’t moved yet until he stops. Everly glances up at his face only to see the satisfied half-smile is back, and a flush takes over her cheeks at the look he casts her way .

“Right!” Everly doesn’t mean to yell, but her body is out of control right now and she startles herself with how loudly she says it. Her eyes flare impossibly wider, and with a little jump, she turns and flees into the house, fairly certain she hears him chuckling behind her as she goes.

~~~

When she gets to the kitchen, Everly rests some ice on her neck in an attempt to cool her reaction to him, though she tells herself the hard work is the main contributor to her overheated body. She gives herself a little pep talk as she cools off. There is no reason to freak out; it’s obvious they are both attracted to each other, and she can take this at her own pace. She’s made a fool of herself plenty already, so Asim knows what he’s getting into, and yet he’s chosen to be here regardless. Wiping her brow with a damp paper towel, she leans against the counter and takes a few steadying breaths.

When she returns with fresh iced waters, he has most of the grass out of the top terrace already, and it’s clear from the sweat on his brow he’s been working hard. Everly suggests a break, so they both flop onto her patio furniture and he downs half the glass in one gulp.

“I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard," Everly says, voice rueful as she looks at him from the corner of her eye.

Asim laughs and Everly smiles into her glass, having accomplished her goal of hearing it again. She crosses one leg over the other to stop them from bouncing and shaking the table between them.

“I’m used to hard work, so don’t worry about it," he says. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”

Everly sets her glass down and traces patterns in the condensation with the tip of her finger, collecting the cool water droplets along her skin before they drip down onto the table. She’s not normally the best at talking to others, and this would typically feel awkward for her. Although it is a little uncomfortable at times, she attributes that to her normal level of anxiety that makes just about everything uncomfortable .

Overall, today has been… nice. Really nice. She doesn’t feel pressured by him in any way. She doesn’t feel like she has to fill the silences, or say certain things, or act a certain way, or even treat him in any particular way like she does with most other people. It’s refreshing, and Everly feels lighter just being around him.

Asim’s phone rings, interrupting her musing, and he pulls it out of his pocket. Glancing at the screen before locking eyes with her, “It’s my mom, do you mind?”

Everly shakes her head and he stands as he answers.

“Alo, Mama.” Asim smiles at whatever his mom says, then takes a few steps away from Everly as he begins speaking in Arabic. He darts a sheepish look her way at one point, and Everly wonders what they’re talking about. After speaking with her for a few minutes he shakes his head and hangs up, the corners of his mouth tilted up and a twinkle in his eye as he walks back over to her.

“All good?” Everly asks.

“Yes,” Asim chuckles, “my mother is a busy body. Always wants to make sure I’m taking care of myself, and I made the mistake of telling her I was helping you out today.”

“Why is that a mistake?” She tries not to feel hurt by his implication.

“Ah, I spoke poorly. It was a mistake telling her I was helping out a young lady with a big project, because now she won’t let me hear the end of it and thinks grand-babies are on the horizon.” Asim quirks a smile when Everly’s face flushes. “You, on the other hand, are not at all a mistake.”

Everly averts her eyes from his steady, sparkling gaze, unsure how to react to his words. He’s so intense sometimes, but in a mellow way. Which doesn’t make any sense, except that with him it somehow does. She clears her throat in the hopes it will clear her head as well.

“So, what’s next?” Everly asks. “Now that the grass is out of the top terrace, is it time to plant?”

“I’m thinking it would be best to wait," Asim explains, “We’ll need to replace the topsoil, and having some quality compost on hand to mix in when we plant everything would be beneficial too.”

He scrubs a hand across his chin as his eyes take in the mess before them. Everly holds in a grimace, hoping it doesn’t look as much of a disaster to him as it does to her.

“I’m thinking we spend a little more time tearing up the grass on the lower terrace today, and then pick up there tomorrow. The shop isn’t too busy yet as it’s still a bit early for the spring rush, so my employees will be fine without me. I’ll bring the truck over with a few bags of topsoil and compost tomorrow, that way I can take care of the sod too and you won’t have to worry about it.”

A bit flabbergasted that he’s so invested in what wasn’t even a real project in the first place, Everly agrees, even though she doesn’t want him to leave so soon—despite already feeling exhausted and dreading the sore muscles she’s sure to have tomorrow. She’s quickly realizing she can’t get enough of him.

~~~

A few hours later, she’s freshly showered and sitting in her living room in front of the crackling fireplace with Frankie, and she is straight up gushing. Everly can’t shut her mouth. She knows she’s talking too much, and that it has been entirely about her afternoon with Asim, and yet she can’t stop. Frankie was initially shocked, with wide eyes that barely blinked for minutes on end as Everly blathered on and on, and then they appeared to get used to it and realize this is their new reality. They settled in for the long haul and are now sitting with their legs stretched out, feet in Everly’s lap while she absentmindedly massages them as she talks, ignoring Frankie’s suggestive moaning when she kneads the arch.

Eventually her voice slows down, and Everly catches up with the current situation, realizing she’s likely just talked for longer than she ever has in her entire life. Her face turns a little pink and she purses her lips, tucking her chin down into her chest and focusing on Frankie’s feet.

“Well then," Frankie says when she finally stops speaking. They blink their eyes dramatically and pretend to wake up from a nap, raising their eyebrows and biting their lip to hold back a smile. “Hi. I guess you’re good.”

Everly throws her head back and laughs. She is good, and she doesn’t remember the last time she felt this way.

“Sorry," she says. “I guess I’m… I don’t even know. Happy?” And also kind of embarrassed about feeling happy? Or maybe just uncomfortable with the new emotion.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty happy," Frankie confirms, one side of their lips tilting up. “I can’t believe you just talked so much. Do you even remember half of what you said to me? Because I’ll be honest, a lot of it didn’t make sense.”

Everly shrugs and rocks her head against the back of the couch. She wasn’t really paying attention to what she said, but she can tell Frankie anything. All she knows is she has a lot of feelings and thoughts right now, and at the moment, all of them are good.