Page 27 of Petals and Plot Twists
I could text him? What am I even saying right now? Why am I making things so weird?
“That would be great,” he says, like we’re making some formal arrangement. Like he isn’t currently sharing my apartment, and we haven’t beenbest friendsfor the past decade.
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you then,” Peter says. He finally pushes away from the fridge and turns to walk away, but then he pauses and spins around to face me again. “Can I ask you one more question?”
I nod. “Of course. Anything.”
“What are you going to do if you keep dating, keep taking man after man up to the roof, and the flower never blooms?”
A knot of dread forms in my gut. So far, I’ve only thought of this plan in positive terms. The flower feels like my own personal gift, a way to bypass my initially crappy instincts and find a guy who’s truly meant just for me.
But what if it doesn’t work? How many men am I willing to parade across The Serendipity’s roof before I give up?
“That isn’t going to happen,” I say. “The flower appeared inmygarden. I have to believe it’s here to help me.”
He nods. “And you’re sure you’ll find the right guy just…randomly dating like this?”
“It’s not random,” I argue. “I match with their profile first.”
“Right. Match with guys like Bear,” he says, the words stinging despite his gentle tone. “He really seemed like your type.”
“Okay, to be fair, Bear’s profile picture was completely different from how he looked in person.”
Peter runs his hand through his hair, and for the first time, I sense a little wariness from him, like there are things he isn’t saying. Whether about me or Operation Soulmate, I’m not sure.
He opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but then he stops, swallowing his words as he shakes his head.
“Just say it, Peter,” I say. “I can tell you’re clearly thinking something.”
He breathes out a sigh, his hands moving to his hips. “I just—Sophie, you know I want you to be happy. And if you want to keep up this dating thing, I’ll keep helping you. I promised I would, and I won’t go back on my word. But…” He hesitates, his jaw flexing before he looks me right in the eye. “I don’t think you’re looking in the right place. I don’t think this is going to work for you.”
“Well, I do,” I say, feeling a need to defend myself. What does Peter know about where I should be looking for dates? “The flower appeared for me, Peter. It appeared now, this season. Not last fall. Not when I first started tending the garden. I have to think the timing matters here.” I fold my arms across my chest. “And I don’t exactly think you’re in a position to give me dating advice.” The words sound sharper than I intend, and they must hit their mark, because Peter flinches, making me immediately regret them.
But a part of me also doesn’t like that Peter is judging, so I hold my ground, lifting my chin the slightest bit as if to say,yeah, that’s what I said. And I meant every word.
“You’re definitely right about that,” he finally says, his words heavy, his tone holding an element of defeat. “I just know you, Soph. I know what you need. And these guys you’re matching with—they aren’t it.” He turns to leave but pauses before he enters the hall and motions toward a coffee mug sitting on the counter. “It’s probably still warm,” he says. “I poured it right before you showed up. I was going to bring it to you.”
As soon as he’s gone, I slide down the fridge until I’m sitting against it and drop my face into my hands.
I have no idea what just happened.
One minute, Peter was taking my breath away, melting my insides with the intensity of a single look, then the next, he was calling me out, questioning my dating tactics, poking holes in Operation Soulmate.
I could be making something out of nothing. Seeing things that aren’t really there. Peter could be annoyed with my dating plan simply because he’s my friend, and he cares about me. Doesn’t want to see me get hurt.
Or he could be annoyed because Willa was right. And he’d rather be dating me himself.
I groan into my palms. What is happening to me? I have a plan. A purpose. All this overthinking is only going to mess with my headspace.
I just need to focus. Schedule more dates. Trust the process.
Still. The way Peter looked at me—I don’t think I made that up.
Even more concerning: I think I might have liked it.
Chapter Ten
Peter
