But she had apparently pushed her fiancé—now her ex-fiancé—too far. Ian had decided that they had “different interests” and had “grown apart.”
“I just can’t go through with this wedding when I know I won’t be able to make you happy, babe,” he’d said, raking a hand through his sandy blond hair. “So we’re gonna have to go our separate ways. I’m so sorry.” And there had been tears glimmering in his blue eyes as he said it.
Iyanna had always loved the contrasts between them—his straight blonde hair and tan skin against her black butterfly locs and velvety brown tones. But right at that moment, she was feeling abandoned and she couldn’t help thinking that if she wouldn’t have dated outside her own race—as her Granny always warned her not to—she might not be in this situation right now.
But that was just foolishness, Iyanna told herself firmly. It didn’t matter if Ian was white, black, or purple—the fact was she was better off without his boring ass. He had been sweet and kind and always there for her, but he had also been what her best friend Lacy called, “a complete snoozefest” in the bedroom. And nothing she had tried to spice up their relationship had worked. In fact, her efforts at making things more interesting in bed had backfired, making Ian even more vanilla than he had been to start with.
“I knew it wasn’t going to work out with that boy,” her Granny had said, when Iyanna had come to her in tears after Ian had called off the wedding. “He’s no good for you, child. You’re hot-blooded, just like me when I was your age. And he’s as cool as a cucumber—ain’t no fire in his bones.”
Though Iyanna wasn’t about to talk about her sex life with her grandmother, she had to admit Granny was right. She’d been a late bloomer—only interested in her grades and making valedictorian in high school. But once she’d gotten away from home and the watchful eyes of her parents, she’d gotten interested in a lot more than botany.
Ian had been in her Advanced Botany class her first year of grad school at USF and they had hit it off at once. He came from a nice family and soon she was bringing him home to meet her parents and going home with him to meet his. It had seemed like a match made in heaven and they had been together all through grad school. Everything but the sex had been perfect.
“But sex is a big thing,” Iyanna muttered to herself, as she walked around her new apartment. She was surrounded by exotic alien flora, but she wasn’t seeing any of it.
Honestly, this was all her friend Lacy’s fault, she thought, as she ran a hand over the cool, slippery back of the living couch, stroking the tightly knit vines it was made of. Iyanna wouldn’t have known good sex from bad sex if her friend hadn’t given her one of her favorite spicy romance books to read.
Iyanna’s parents were both academics—her father was a biochemist and her mother taught English literature. So “frivolous” books like romance were outlawed at her house. While other girls her age had been reading about sparkly teenage vampires and angsty werewolves, Iyanna had been reading Anna Karenina and Great Expectations. Anything but the classics was considered “trash” and her parents had made it clear such books were not welcome in their home.
So it wasn’t until grad school that Iyanna discovered spicy romance. But when she did, it felt as though her whole world opened up. She began to want more.
At first she kept these fantasies to herself. The men she’d dated before she met Ian weren’t very good at sex either, so she had nothing much to compare him to. So all through college and grad school, she kept her head down and didn’t try to explore anything. But once she got her PhD, she looked around and realized she wasn’t getting any younger and life was passing her by. She was a grown woman and she’d never really had a truly satisfying sexual experience! All her life she’d been focused on school—now she wanted to grow. Like one of her plants, she wanted to stretch her tendrils and unfurl her petals. She wanted—
“Oh!” Iyanna murmured, looking down at where she’d been stroking the couch. The place where she’d been running her hand back and forth was no longer the deep blue-green of the rest of the vines. Instead, a patch of vivid, bright pink flowers, all about the size of her thumb, had suddenly bloomed.
“What in the world?” Iyanna murmured, frowning. Had she done that? But how? Just by touching the couch? It seemed far fetched, even if she did have a “green thumb.”
Experimentally, she touched a different part of the couch, letting her hand come to a stop on the armrest. After a few moments, she felt a soft twitching under her palm. With a gasp, she yanked her hand away, just in time to see several more bright, pink flowers unfurling their petals.