Page 67 of The Problem with Dating

She gestured toward the diary in my hand. “You seemed as if you were in your own world, that’s all.”

She straightened her hair that day.

I liked it.

I liked her curls, too.

“Oh.” I shut the diary and tucked it under my arm. “Yes.”

She looked to my other hand and saw the bundle of flowers I’d bought. Teresa wrote that Peter would buy her favorite flowers from Ruth’s Floral Shop every Sunday morning. Since I’d read that, I’d been going out each Sunday and picking up a bundle of tulips.

“For a special someone?” she questioned, looking at the flowers.

“What? No. I, uh,” I shook my head. “They’re for me.”

“Oh, nice. I, too, treat myself to flowers every Sunday. I’m more of a dahlia and peonies girl myself, but tulips are always a good choice.”

We stood there for a moment in silence. I grimaced, unsure what to say. “I’m not the best at this.”

“At what?”

“New friendships.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” She moved in closer and whispered, “I have a PhD in the arena of friendship making. Though, it comes with toxic people pleasing tendencies, so I don’t know if I’m any help.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed you around town talking to any and everyone.”

“Wait.” She raised an eyebrow. “Was that a laugh?”

I cleared my throat. “No. I choked on air.”

She waved a finger. “No, no. That was a chuckle. I know a chuckle when I hear one.”

“Allergies,” I lied.

She smiled so big.

That full blown grin of hers? Fuck yeah. I liked that.

“How often do you notice me around town?” she asked as she traced her shoe in circles on the concrete.

I huffed and brushed the bridge of my nose with my thumb. “Not often. Hardly ever.”

A lot. Always.All the fucking time, Yara.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” she said sarcastically, nodding with a wink. “Don’t worry, Mr. Black. I notice you quite often, too.”

She left me slightly confused about the whole exchange. She didn’t seem to hold any resentment toward me after I apologized. It was as if she gave me a full second chance. Tatiana was right—Yara was the kind of person to forgive others.

I quietly swore I wouldn’t give her another reason to have to forgive me again.

* * *

Todd

Did you see my other text, Alex?

Alex

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