Daffodil Sprouts🌼

Ch. 43 ' A drink with Leo.

Last update of the year (Obviously lol💀). If you're reading this, I'm so glad you made it through 2021❤  Happy New Year in advance to you🤩

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"He accepted it," I mumble to myself, then say aloud to Sam, "I still can't believe he accepted it."

Sam, who's taking playful large steps beside me huffs. "I can. Smi, you look so pitiful when you cry. Epically pitiful, like a wounded dog. It makes anyone who sees you crying want to cover you up and protect you—"

"That is a big fat lie," I dead-pan. "And not a nice thing to say."

Sam chuckles. "I don't need to be nice to you at the expense of the truth. We're buddies."

I push my lips out grudgingly but say nothing.

"What's up?" Sam prods after a few seconds. "What made you so . . . " She shrugs. "What happened? Is it Jason? Was he bad to you again?"

I say nothing in reply, but Sam isn't deterred.

"Tell me if he's the one who made you so miserable. I might like him, but that doesn't mean I won't f**k him up for you if the need arises."

I halt on my steps, not sure how to react. Finally, I put my hand on my chest and say, "Oh my, I'm so scared for Jason." Then I snap out of the role. "What will you do? Kill him?"

She imitates Disney's witches laughter and says, "You never know." Pulls me by my hoodie afterwards. "We've arrived, ma'am."

"Okay." Sam rubs her palms together. "First, pull off that shit."

I look around me unsurely. "What shit— oh my hoodie." I start to pull it off, remembering something in the process.

I retrieve the treasured material from its pocket before handing the hoodie to Sam.

"What is that?" she asks as she receives the hoodie like it's a rag.

I show her.

"Ooh. The yellow letter."

I smile fondly as I roll it open, not letting Mom's claim that she didn't write it tamper with my joy of receiving a letter like this from her.

The handwriting used to come off as strange, but as I stare at the text now, I'm struck by intense familiarity.

This is the handwriting I've been staring at for most of the morning.

Mom really didn't write this.

Jason did. 

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"Yesmi."

My eyelids fly up.

This voice. This voice that I've gladly begun to miss. This voice that I can really do without. This voice that all it promises is turmoil. This disturbing voice.

I turn to look at Sam at the same time she turns to look at me. From her perturbed facial expression, I know she heard it too, so it wasn't a figment of my imagination.

Oh, God.

I'm never in his mood, but this time, I'm particularly so not in his mood. I have a lot of figuring out to do. For example, why Jason wrote that letter to me in Mom's name.

"Yesmi."

It sounds like him. It could be him. On cue, Sam and I turn.

I didn't think my already dampened spirit could dampen more, but Leonardo's just amazing, isn't he? My mood shatters to the floor of the cafe upon seeing him.