Page 7 of Petals and Plot Twists
“Yes, please.”
He nods and focuses on his screen long enough to order our favorites, then sets the phone face-down on the counter. His t-shirt stretches across his shoulders, and I find myself wondering if he’s been working out lately. Peter has always had a lanky swimmer’s body, but it definitely seems like there’s a little more bulk to him than I’ve ever noticed before.
“What if you’re just looking in the wrong places?” he asks, snapping my attention back to his face.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “Maybe the guy you’re supposed to be with isn’t on a dating app. Maybe he’s someone you already know.” He lifts a hand and hooks it around the back of his neck. “Someone you work with, maybe. Or…I don’t know. Someone you met in school.”
I frown. “Wouldn’t I have realized it if I had? Felt something? Noticed some kind of chemistry?”
“People change, Sophie,” Peter says easily. “Just open your eyes a little. Maybe you’ll see someone in a new light.”
For a split second, I wonder if Peter is talking abouthim.Does he want me to seehimin a different light? But I quickly dismiss the thought.
It’s not that I haven’t considered it. For a brief stretch during our senior year, I nursed a pretty intense crush on Peter. But after several weeks of dropping what I thought were obvious hints, he didn’t take the bait, so I filed away my crush and leaned hard into the friendzone. And I don’t have any regrets about that. Peter is an amazing best friend, and I don’t want to do anything to mess that up. With how easily I seem to crash and burn with men, I probablywouldmess things up. Which is all the more reason to steer clear.
“Okay, I’ll try looking at people in a new light ifyouagree to go out with Miranda.”
“Who’s Miranda?”
“The woman who runs Spring View Nursery. She sells me all my plants.”
Peter grunts. “I’ll go out with Miranda ifyouspend as much time on dates as you do with your plants.”
I scowl. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“No deal, then,” Peter says. “I’m not caving if you won’t.”
I sigh and push away from the counter. “What do you know about my plants anyway? It’s not like you ever come up to my garden.” I move back into Peter’s office and retrieve the model of Notre-Dame. It’s one of those architectural ones that looks less like a toy. He can absolutely put this one in his living room.
“Only because spring is basically here, and I don’t have a death wish,” Peter says when I reappear in the kitchen. “I’ll go once all the pollen has settled.”
“You should,” I say as I move into the living room. “It looks amazing.” I set Notre-Dame on the top of the low-profile bookshelf behind his couch. “You should leave this one out here. It’s cool enough it won’t scare any women away.”
I turn to see Peter looking at me, hands pushed into his pockets. “Will you go with me? When I pick up the rest?”
It feels big that he’s asking. Peter doesn’t usuallyaskfor anything. Especially not company.If we hang out, it’s because I show up. If we go places, it’s because I drag him there. I know he enjoys my company. He’s told me as much multiple times. But I’m pretty sure he prefers hisowncompany just as much.
Which is why I have to say yes. He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t really need me.
“Of course I will,” I say.
“Good. Thanks,” Peter says, the sincerity in his expression giving me pause. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” I manage to say. But for the rest of the night, I can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something else behind Peter’s invitation.
I just can’t put my finger on what it is.
Chapter Three
Peter
As a data scientist,I have a graduate degree that taught me how to analyze information, look for trends, interpret patterns in data, and make projections about what’s likely to happen next.
Which is why, when all evidence indicates my emotions will not be returned, it makes no logical sense for me to be in love with my best friend.
And yet, here I am. Soaking up every minute of her company. Saying yes every time she wants to see me because I am incapable of telling her no. Throwing logs onto the embers of my affection, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’ll feel an ounce of the heat and something will spark for her, too.
