Still Crazy About Him

Maya's POV

"Mmm… Good morning, Maya! And I must say—you look like someone who had a very wonderful morning," came Donya Esmeralda's voice behind me, rich with teasing amusement.

I turned around quickly, startled, only to find her standing gracefully beneath the soft light of the early sun. Her wide-brim straw hat cast elegant shadows across her exquisite features, and her eyes sparkled as if she knew something I didn't.

"Good morning, Donya Esmeralda!" I replied with a sheepish smile, trying to mask the heat blooming in my cheeks.

She eyed me with playful curiosity. "Well, well. It seems the Monleon heir fancies you, Maya."

I felt my face flush deeper. "No, Donya Esmeralda, you got it wrong. He's just… being nice. Rich asked him to befriend me, that's all."

But even as I said it, my heart betrayed me. I wished it weren't true—that maybe, just maybe, Adonis wanted to know me because he wanted to. Not because someone nudged him to.

"Oh?" She raised a brow, unconvinced. "I don't think so, Maya. Adonis doesn't wake up early just to do favors—not even for his best buddy. He may not be lazy, but he's certainly not an early riser by nature."

She chuckled softly. "That boy grew up with nannies and maids fluttering around him. He never needed to get up at dawn. But you know what I admire about him? He still chooses to help around the estate when it matters. Like my boys."

Her gaze softened. "Believe me, Aya—Adonis likes you. And you'll understand what I mean soon enough."

With that, she turned and walked toward the flower farm, leaving me standing there, rooted in place by her words. I blinked, caught between disbelief and a shy, foolish kind of hope. When she glanced over her shoulder and smiled again, I shook myself from my thoughts and jogged to catch up.

We spent the morning among the sunflowers—bright golden faces turned toward the sky. I got lost in their beauty, the way their petals swayed like they were smiling. Someday, if I ever get married, I want a bouquet made of sunflowers. Bold, happy, and full of light.

Time passed in a blur of laughter, soft hums, and the rhythmic snip of shears. We filled buckets with fresh-cut blooms while Rich oversaw the loading and transport for the city flower shop. Trucks rolled in, their men quickly filling crates for upcoming weddings and events.

Seeing those flowers leave the farm filled me with quiet joy. I imagined the hands that would receive them, the faces that would light up. I didn't know why, but flowers always made my heart lighter—whether in a vase, on the roadside, or blooming in someone's garden. They felt like little reminders of hope.

It was nearly lunchtime when a bead of sweat traced its way down my temple. I wiped it away with my towel, only half-aware of the sun overhead.

"Hey! Maya, it's already lunchtime! Let's head to the mansion," Jocelyn called out, waving from across the field.

I blinked up at her, surprised. "Thanks, Jo. I didn't realize it was that late."

She grinned, waiting patiently for me to gather my things. Jocelyn, one year older than me, had become my silent anchor this summer. We didn't talk much while working, but we didn't need to. There was an easy rhythm between us. And even though we went to different schools and only saw each other on weekends or during harvest, I trusted her. She could keep a secret.

We made our way to the mansion's back section, where a modest accessory dwelling stood—built just for workers like us to rest and eat. Donya Esmeralda had it constructed to give everyone a proper break, and I'd always admired that about her.

When I saw the food laid out on the long table, my stomach growled in gratitude. Without a word, I sat down and dug in, grateful beyond words. Hunger made even the simplest dishes taste divine.

And just like that, the morning faded into warmth and sunflowers and the quiet hum of something I couldn't name—something that felt a lot like the beginning of something beautiful.

We spent the afternoon at the orchid plantation, tending to Donya Esmeralda's prized blooms. We prepared the fertilizer, carefully diluting it with water, mindful of the orchids' delicate needs. They had to be fed every two weeks during their peak growth, and I found a quiet joy in the rhythm of it—the care, the patience, the precision.

The orchids took my breath away in a different way than the sunflowers. There was something more elegant, more mysterious about them. Donya Esmeralda's Waling-Waling—Vanda orchids of rare hues and patterns—were the pride of the farm and some of its top earners.

Collectors and orchid lovers often visited just to purchase a single plant, some willing to wait weeks for a particular bloom to be ready. Her collection was known far and wide, and honestly, it deserved every bit of the praise.

I loved being at the farm, even if my muscles were beginning to protest after weeks of rest following graduation. Every movement reminded me of the work I hadn't done in a while, but I welcomed the ache. It meant I was doing something worthwhile.

The sun dipped lower, casting long golden beams across the petals when Jo called out to me again, reminding me it was time to go. I realized with a pang that I hadn't seen Rich all afternoon—he'd gone into the city to check on the flower shop and the chocolate factory. Their cacao plantation was just as famous as their flowers.

Their chocolates weren't just popular locally—they were internationally known. I missed our lunchtime chats, the quiet companionship we shared over simple meals. But I understood. Since his father passed, Rich and his older brother, Benedict, had taken on the full weight of the family business.

Ben even gave up returning to the U.S. for his master's degree. I admired both brothers deeply—for their sense of duty, their strength, and their sincerity.

They were also heartbreakingly good-looking, both of them. But while everyone admired Ben and Rich, my heart… was still stuck somewhere else.

As I walked toward the back house, my footsteps slowed when I spotted a familiar figure standing on the Hernandez mansion's front porch. Adonis.

He looked like he belonged there—arms crossed, back straight, the fading sunlight kissing the side of his face. My heart skipped. Is he here to see Rich? Or… me? I didn't want to assume, but my pulse betrayed me.

I ducked quickly toward the back entrance and changed out of my work clothes into my usual ones, wiping the sweat from my forehead and trying to tame my hair. Just as I stepped out, I nearly collided with him.

He was standing by the back entrance, hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he had changed into worn jeans and a gray t-shirt that clung just enough to make me forget how to breathe. He looked so natural like this—at ease, boyish, and yet impossibly magnetic.

When he turned around and saw me, his lips tilted into a half-smile. Calm. Effortless. While I felt like a bundle of nerves just barely holding it together.

"Hello, Maya," he said, his voice smooth. "Are you ready to go home?"

I blinked. "W-what?"

He stepped closer. "I hope you'll allow me to take you home, Aya."

Hearing him say my nickname in that low, gentle tone nearly did me in.

"I thought you were here to meet Rich," I said, trying not to sound disappointed or flustered—but probably failing at both.

"I came here for you," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "And starting today… get used to it, Maya."

My breath caught. My brain screamed at me not to make it a big deal—but my heart didn't listen. It never did with him.

"You don't have to do that, Adonis," I managed to say, lowering my eyes. "I already agreed to be your friend. Picking me up from the farm or my house… that's a bit much."

"I'm not doing this because I have to," he said gently. "I want to. Let me. Besides, we haven't had much chance to talk… and I want to understand you, Maya."

He stepped closer—and I stepped back. I didn't realize how close we were until my back hit the wall behind me. He placed both hands on the wall on either side of me, caging me in without touching me. My breath hitched.

"Tell me," he murmured, voice low and almost a whisper. "Do you want me to pick you up every day? Or do you want me to stop?"

I froze. His face was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath, the subtle scent of his aftershave. He leaned in just a little more, and his body almost brushed mine. If not for the wall supporting me, I might have melted to the floor right there.

His nearness made my knees weak. My hands trembled at my sides, and my heart thudded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I hate this. I hate that I'm still this affected by him. I hate that one look, one touch, one word… still does this to me.

And yet, I couldn't deny it. I wasn't over Adonis Monleon. Not even close. No matter how much I told myself I had moved on, it had all been a lie. A poor, crumbling lie.

"Maya…" he whispered again, closer this time, his voice like velvet. "Please answer me. I need to know what you want. If you tell me to stop—I'll stop. But if not… let me do this."

My lips parted, but no sound came out. I was too wrapped up in the moment, too overwhelmed by how close he was. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to reach for him… and how dangerous that wish was.