The Way I Loved You
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Wings
Copyright: Aprilynne Pike
Inspired by the song The Way I Loved You, by Taylor Swift
"You look beautiful tonight," said David, his blue eyes lingering on Laurel's face as he opened the passenger door to his Honda Civic. She gathered her petals out of the way as she sat down so they wouldn't get caught in the closing car door. It was the autumn formal again, 'their tradition', as David called it: the one day in the year when Laurel could wear her blossom for the world to see.
A different voice echoed in her ear: lighter, smoother, with a hint of a warm Irish lilt.
"Don't worry, I'll keep my distance from your blossom … fabulous as you smell, your petals are off-limits to me." She smiled crookedly, remembering how that comment had irritated her – first, because she didn't understand it, then because, for faeries, it was just a bit risqué.
David was a gentleman; he would never have said that to her.
"Is something funny?" asked David.
"No … nothing." She could hardly tell him she'd been thinking of Tamani again.
Laurel was a sensible girl, and she had chosen the sensible option. There was no way of knowing when her parents would be safe; she couldn't return to the house in Orick until then. And until then, she couldn't make a commitment to a relationship that would be erratic and long-distance at best.
David was handsome, intelligent, reliable, and fun to be around. He was her best friend. Wasn't that the best foundation for a relationship? She needed a man she could depend on. She didn't need a faerie with a too-high opinion of his own charm, who made her toes curl just by looking at her and whose kisses made her dizzy …
No. Stop. I'm sitting next to David. What am I thinking?
She was thinking of the tiny seedling ring she still wore under her shirt, which David was kind enough to ignore when he saw it. The ring which a little faerie girl had given Tamani for safekeeping, hoping it would help her remember.
"I never gave up on you, Laurel."
She glanced over her shoulder at the ruffled blue-and-white petals growing from her back. It was beautiful, yes, but it seemed terribly redundant somehow. If she and David ended up married, they would never have children together. He could never have pollen sparkling on his fingers when he reached into her blossom; she would never know how it felt to have a seed growing there, to plant it and watch over it until it bloomed into a tiny, walking, talking faerie baby.
Never mind. They'd only been dating a year, for heaven's sake! It was much too early to think of that.
One year in which she hadn't seen Tamani's moss-green eyes and sweep of black-and-green hair, heard his musical voice or felt his strong, slender arms around her. But she still remembered every detail.
She covered David's hand on the gear shift with her own, glancing at him as trees and houselots whisked by in the blue twilight behind them.
I'm sorry, David. I'm so sorry.