Page 88 of Petals and Plot Twists
“I added something to the inside,” he says, his tone a little sheepish. The greenhouse is lined with glass—or plastic that’s supposed to look like glass—and the interior walls are covered in tiny LEGO plants with colorful plastic blooms. But there’s only one flower sitting in the center. A white one with a deep pink center.
“This way, the flower is always in bloom for us,” Peter says. “No matter what happens in your rooftop garden.”
I sniff, emotion making my chest tight. “I love this so much, Peter.”
“It’s yours,” he says. “It was always supposed to be yours. This, too.” He tosses an envelope down beside the greenhouse, then lowers himself into the chair perpendicular to mine.
I open the envelope, heart squeezing when I pull out a single sheet of paper containing Peter’s familiar handwriting, one of his number codes filling the center of the page.
“Oh, my gosh. I haven’t seen one of these in years.” Peter used to make cyphers for me whenever we were bored in AP Chemistry. The messages hidden inside them were always totally ridiculous.Mr. Finnigan looks like a penguin. I’m really in the mood for Doritos.Totally inconsequential stuff. But something tells me this one isn’t so inconsequential. Not if Peter still has it after all these years.
“I found it when I was packing up my old bedroom,” he says. “I was planning to give it to you after the prom, assuming you would actually say yes and we would go to the dance together. Since we didn’t…”
“You never gave it to me,” I say.
He nods. “You dated Jack until we graduated. Then we were going to different colleges, and…I guess the moment passed.”
I hold the paper in my hands, staring at the numbers like I’ll be able to puzzle out the code just by staring at it. “It’s been a long time, Peter. I don’t know if I can still figure one of these out.”
“I promise you can,” he says. “This one isn’t that complicated.” He stretches behind him and opens a kitchen drawer, retrieving a pen and a pad of paper, which he hands me. Then he stands and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m gonna get us some food while you work.”
“For real? You’re giving me homework? On a scale of one to ten, how hard should I expect this to be?”
He pauses at his apartment door and grins at me over his shoulder. “It’s Monday-crossword-puzzle hard. Maybe Tuesday. I promise you’re qualified.”
“Barely qualified,” I mutter as he leaves me alone in his kitchen. But it only takes a few minutes for me to puzzle out the pattern. It’s a familiar one—one he used frequently in AP Chem. Each number corresponds to a letter but in reverse, except for vowels, which are assigned numbers one through five starting with A.So A is one, E is two, and so on. Then the rest of the alphabet counts down from six, starting with z, all the way back to the beginning, skipping the already numbered vowels so that b is twenty-six.
Once I sketch out the alphabet and determine what’s what, I have Peter’s message in front of me in a matter of minutes.
Dear Sophie, I know I made you work really hard to be my friend. It was only because I was so in awe of you, I kept waiting for the punchline because it had to be a joke. You couldn’t actually want to be my friend. But you didn’t give up. You tried and you tried, and eventually, you wore me down. I’m so glad you did, because now, I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Soph. Even if you never love me back, I feel so lucky to know you. To be your best friend. I hope you will love me back though. If you’re reading this, it means I felt confident enough to give it to you, so fingers crossed. I love you. Peter.
I read it again and again.
It’s hard to believe he felt this way all those years ago, that he’s been carrying these feelings around with him for so long.
It makes me want to go back to give high school Peter a hug and kick high school Sophie right in the shins. How did she not see him for how incredible he was? How did she miss it?
Peter would tell me to be gentle with my younger self. And I probably should be. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Livestogether.And maybe Peter is right, and we really did need some distance apart. Maybe things wouldn’t have worked out had we started dating in high school.
But I’m determined toseePeter from now on. To recognize and honor the privilege it is to be loved by him.
Half an hour later, Peter returns with cheeseburgers from my favorite burger place, mine made just the way I like it, and a Greek salad without olives. It’s something he would have done a month ago, order food based on what he knows I like, but it feels different now that we’re together. Like I’m so incredibly lucky that I get to have my very best friend be my boyfriend, too. I’ll never take that for granted.
“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks as he swaps half of my sweet potato fries for half of his regular fries.
“Yes, I did,” I say. “You were quite the wordsmith in high school.”
He reaches for the paper and picks it up. “I don’t even remember what it said.” The color in his cheeks deepens as he reads, then he groans. “Oh, man. I really wish I’d just thrown that away.”
I snatch it out of his hands. “Don’t say such a thing! It’s perfect.”
“It’s cheesy.”
“Perfectly cheesy,” I say. “I’m never throwing this away. My first love note from my first love.”
His eyes meet mine. “First, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s only ever been you.”
