Page 33 of Flash

I look him right in the eyes and say firmly, “I’m good, man.”

Henry stares back for a minute, then nods. “Alright. But I’m going to say the one thing I should have said the last time some loser broke your heart. You deserve someone who’s as into you as you are. You deserve someone who’s crazy, over the moon about what a fucking cool guy you are.”

His words sting and ache in a weird way, making my throat tighten. I grunt to try to clear it and turn my attention to the TV so he won’t see the moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes. Of course, I know what he’s saying is true. Everyone deserves that.

“I have trust issues.” Lewis’s words from earlier echo in my mind, and a memory of the way he smiled and laughed while we talked and joked around pushes to the forefront.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, maybe I’m setting myself up just like I always do, but it feels like there might be something there.

Chapter 11

LEWIS

“You’ve gotta decode this for me.” I meet Rowan at his car door, holding a coffee for him. He looks tired. Exhausted, actually. I eye him up and down and hand over his drink.

“Do I really have to play ‘human emotion translator’ for you before I’ve reached appropriate levels of caffeination?” He takes a gulp.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll just bumble my way through it all on my own, making the world’s biggest ass of myself.”

His lips twitch with a half-smile. “So, basically a Tuesday?”

I give him a playful kick in the ass. “Dickhead.”

Row laughs without an ounce of shame and saunters towards Little Shop of Flowers.

“Alright, lay it on me. What completely incomprehensible thing did your fuck buddy say?”

I fish my keys out of my pockets but don’t unlock the door right away. “He said something about always pushing too hard with guys who don’t like him, and how he clearly hasn’t learned his lesson. What does that even mean? We were talking about character flaws at the time, so maybe it was just a general thing he feels like he’s bad at?”

“Lewie.” Row puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. He shakes his head and gives me a pitying look that makes me bristle. Does he think Arrow was trying to tell me he’s into someone else? “You are an absolute moron, and I love you.” He kisses my forehead, then takes the keys from me and unlocks the door.

“What? That’s all you’re giving me? I need help,” I whine, following him inside. “I need…”

I stop mid-sentence, my foot just barely over the threshold of the shop. Rowan stops in his tracks too, his cup of coffee held halfway to his mouth.

“Is it just me, or are there more ducks here than yesterday?”

A sound somewhere between laughter and an enraged yowl gets caught in my throat, heat rising into my cheeks and my pulse thundering noisily in my ears. More ducks? Every fucking surface in the shop is covered in colorful rubber duckies. There must be hundreds of them lining every shelf, perched on the cash register and scattered across the counter, I even pluck a few out of vases as I pass.

“How did he even get in here? Why ducks?” I pick one up and squeeze it. It lets out a shrill squeak and I toss it aside. “What atrocities did I commit in a past life to deserve that jagoff as my neighbor?” A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. “How are we even supposed to open this morning with stupid.” I pick up another and chuck it across the store. “Little.” I toss one on the ground and stomp it with my foot. “Rubber ducks everywhere.”

My frustration boils over and stomping isn’t enough. I jump up and down on the innocent blue duckie until Rowan grabs me around the waist and hauls me away from the poor toy.

“I think he’s dead.”

I laugh again, folding myself over the counter, pushing ducks aside without care so I can bang my head on the hard, cold surface.

“I have an idea, if you’re interested,” Rowan offers.

“Sure,” I mumble, my face still pressed against the counter. I’m already working on a few ideas of my own. Obviously, a horse head is out of the question, but there may be an alternative that will be even more disruptive to their business. It’ll serve them right after fucking with mine again.

Who do those asshole tattoo artists think they are anyway?

“These things are pretty cute. What if we take a leaf out of the Ink Slingers book and turn it into a social media campaign?” he suggests.

I lift my head. “Oh shit, that’s good.”

I put my revenge plot on hold for the time being. I’ll organize that tonight once I’m home and have time to stew over this whole stupid thing properly. For now, I like my bestie’s idea a lot more. I look around at all the ducks, seeing them in a different light now, a plan slowly forming in my mind.

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