Page 3 of Bad Beehavior

At least I’m not single. I tune back into my boyfriend I’m oh so lucky to have.

I sigh. “Kent, I mean, how much is it going to cost you?” Or should I say me, because I know for a fact he doesn’t have the money to fund another “business venture.”

His eyes darken, and his mouth forms into a scowl.

Commence the tantrum.

“You always do this, Jennessa. You can never be happy for me and always have to find a way to tear me down.”

“Kent,” I say soothingly as I walk from behind the counter and meet him where he stands in his pissy-fit, caressing his cheek. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you get on your feet. I’m just extra cautious when it comes to people taking advantage of you. I don’t want it to be a repeat of that credit card company fiasco.”

He pushes my hand away. “See, you always bring that up. I learned my lesson. I won’t let it happen again. Why can’t you be happy for me? I promise this is legit.”

I sigh, examining his hurt expression.

I don’t have many friends in the city. Since moving here two years ago, I anticipated meeting people would be challenging. Unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to make connections between launching my business and adapting to the fast-paced environment. Well, except for my neighbor, but an eighty-year-old woman isn’t the best person to take out to regular twenty-something-year-old events. Thank God for dating apps and that Kent was just a swipe away. If it weren’t for him, I’d be completely alone. I need to remember this.

Sure, he has his faults. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, and he does ask me for money a lot, but he’s sweet and cute and generous when he can be. I can’t be a dick to him when he’s trying to make a better life for himself—for us.

I grab his hands. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m excited for you. If you think this opportunity sounds great, so do I.” I smile, hoping it meets my eyes.

He sighs and rolls his shoulders, pulling me against him.

My stomach rumbles, and I realize maybe I’m a little hangry. “I heard you mention something about lunch. Where do you want to go? My treat.” Of course, it’s my treat, but it feels better offering it than sitting through his groveling and excuses.

He pulls me back. “Let’s go to that bistro in Central Park. I know you love it there.”

See, sweet. This is why I put up with his crap.

“Yes, that sounds perfect.” I stretch to my tippy-toes to kiss him, but he still has to bend down to reach my lips—one of the many struggles of only being five-foot-two.

He pulls back, leading me out of the shop. “You sure you can leave for a few hours?”

Anger boils in my stomach. I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic or if he’s really that clueless–probably the latter. “No, it’s fine. In fact, I think I’ll close up for the rest of the day.” I switch the open sign to closed before locking the door.

“You sure?” he asks as we make our way down the crowded sidewalk.

The amount of people walking by makes me even angrier. So many humans, and none of them want some goddamn baby’s breath.

“Honestly, the shop could be blown up by aliens, and I wouldn’t mind at this point.”

Kent gives me a scrunched-face look. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

I shrug. That’s where I am at this point in my hope for my flower shop and my life in general—weird and hopeless.

Chapter 3: Baryx

As I stand in the center of the debarkation port, I clench my fists, staring at the ship that could fit in the palm of my hand.

Changing into my compact form comes naturally. As pollinators, we’re bred to metamorphosis with ease, allowing seamless fertilization access. We work faster when smaller, and Pollen Jockies need to be speedy when populating an entire planet.

The reshaping only takes a thought. When I was younger and training in the Academy, my buddies and I used to transform whenever we wanted to get out of a lecture. It drove our instructors mad, and it didn’t take long to realize that the punishment, two days of solitary confinement, wasn’t worth the thrill of speeding around the Academy courtyard and away from all responsibilities.

This moment feels like a direct parallel to my disobedient moments from my pupa stage. Now, I’m about to change into my compact form for duty—the duty of saving worlds. The pressure of it all almost makes me want to change just to escape.

Almost.

Duty runs so deep in my veins that it would take much more than a little pressure to get me to abandon my mission. In fact, I can’t think of anything that could.

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