Page 37 of Flash

“You’re not from next door, are you?” he asks suspiciously, eyeing me from my jacket all the way down to my boots.

I shove my hands into my pockets and give him a contrite, half-smile.

“Guilty. I promise I’m not armed with water balloons filled with shaving cream or stink bombs or anything though.” I pull my hands back out of my pockets and hold them up to show him I’m unarmed. When he doesn’t immediately demand that I leave, I extend a hand to him. “I’m Arrow.”

Rowan’s bushy eyebrows fly up. “Arrow?” he repeats, and I chuckle. There’s something about our club nicknames that always gets a reaction. “And that’s your motorcycle?” He looks past me to my bike parked outside.

I drop my hand since it’s clear he’s not going to shake it. Is he asking about my bike so he can do something to it later as revenge for all of Jag’s bullshit? If that fucking chaos gremlin gets my bike trashed, I’ll wring his neck.

“Uh, yeah, it is. I swear I haven’t had anything to do with the pranks though.”

Rowan nods slowly, a calculating look still in his eyes like he’s working out something complicated.

“Right.” He clears his throat after a second. “So, what can I help you with?”

“I have a date tonight.” A wide grin stretches across my face reflexively and I puff my chest up a little. “First date with a guy I’ve been seeing casually, actually.” I’m not sure why I’m telling him all of this, I guess I’m hoping the context will help him pick the perfect flowers for me to give to Lewis. “I really want to impress him, and roses feel too generic. I was hoping you might have a good recommendation for me.”

The suspicion falls from his face and his smile turns sweet again.

“L—-” he clears his throat, “Your date might find it a little sad that traditional bouquets die. It’s a little different, but I bet he would really love a potted orchid. They’re beautiful and he’ll be able to keep it as a memory of your first date instead of watching it slowly die. That will be really meaningful to him, especially if he’s the kind of guy who has a tendency to overthink things.”

I don’t know Lewis well enough yet to know if any of that is true, but it feels right based on what I have learned about him so far.

“That sounds perfect.”

Rowan points at a table a few feet away and I go over to pick out one of the orchids. I reach for a pink and white one, but he clears his throat again.

“I’d go with the purple,” he says.

I furrow my brow but grab the purple one like he suggested. They’re all the same to me anyway, and he really seems like he knows what he’s talking about.

“Thanks for all your help.” I pay and then carefully tuck the potted flower close to my chest with one arm, the same way I used to carry Gregory when he was just a tiny puppy.

It’s not until I’m back at my bike that I realize I hadn’t given much thought to transporting flowers, let alone a potted one. I take a minute to find a way to fit it into my saddle bag as best I can and cross my fingers that it makes it the short trip.

Aside from some spilled dirt, everything looks ok when I pull it out again at Lewis’s place. Someone is coming out as I reach the main door, so I don’t have to buzz to be let in. Nerves churn in my stomach as I take the stairs to the second floor. I want tonight to be perfect. I want Lewis to see that he can trust me. I want this to be the start of something, not the end.

Fuck, I want it so badly.

By the time I reach his door, I’ve gotten myself properly tied in knots. I take a deep breath, shift the orchid into my sore hand, and raise the other one to knock.

I can hear Lewis’s shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door, and a muttered curse as he bumps into something. I choke back a laugh and seconds later, the door swings open. He always looks hot as sin, but tonight he’s downright edible. He has on a pair of tight-fitting dark wash jeans and a baby blue polo shirt that brings out his eyes. His hair is carefully styled in an artfully messy way, like he was trying to look his best but wanted it to come across as if he didn’t try at all. A warm feeling swells in my chest, and I thrust the flower towards him.

“This is for you.”

His lips part in surprise and his eyes go from wide with surprise to confused to soft in a blink.

“Purple is my favorite color,” he says, reaching for the pot and gently dragging his finger over one of the orchid petals. “No one has ever brought me a flower before.” He takes a step closer and tilts his face up towards mine. “Thank you,” he whispers.

All of my bad habits scream at me to tell him that I’ll plant him a whole garden of flowers if he wants. I’ll fill his apartment with ten thousand daisies if it makes him happy. And the growly, possessive part of me purrs with satisfaction at the knowledge that I’m the only one who has made him smile in this particular way.

I swallow all of that down and keep it simple instead. “You’re welcome,” I murmur, dipping my head so our lips brush together with my words.

He hooks his hand behind my neck and pulls me in for a proper kiss, teasing his tongue over the seam of my lips before pulling away.

“Come in for just a minute so I can find a home for this new friend.” He waves me in. “What do you think, Chid Vicious?” he asks with a smirk as he carries the orchid into the living room and starts to move plants around to find the perfect spot for it.

I chuckle. “As long as you don’t put it near Plantsy Spungen. That’ll only end in tragedy.”

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