The Way I Hate Him (Almond Bay, #1)

by Meghan Quinn

gives me a confused expression, I clear my throat. “I got you, uh, flowers.” “Me?” He points at his chest. “Yup. Thought it would be nice.” God, kill me now. He doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for them, doesn’t take another step forward, and I know it’s because I look like an absolute moron. Here you go, Ryland, I got you flowers—what a fucking idiot! “They’re daisies. I thought you liked daisies.” Stop talking, Hayes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. You have no fucking clue if he likes daisies or not. “What makes you think I like daisies?” he asks as a tiny trickle of sweat forms on the back of my neck. See, that’s why you should have stopped talking. “Uh . . .” I swallow. “Your eyes.” “My eyes?” he asks. Yeah, Hayes, how exactly do his eyes remind you of daisies? They’re neither shaped like them or white or yellow for that matter. “I mean, your complexion.” “My complexion?” He raises his brow. And yup, that sweat trickles down my back. “You know, did I say complexion? I meant your smile. Your smile reminds me of a daisy.” “When was the last time you saw me smile?” Great point. “I don’t know, man,” I say, giving up because the more I talk, the more I’ll embarrass myself. “Just take them.”