by Alice Ward
I let out a big sigh, just the thought of Cristiano exhausting me. Where did I begin?
“He’s so freaking hot, Evie. Like, wow. He’s got dark skin. I think he’s of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean origin. He’s got these bright brown eyes and pitch black hair. But his eyes aren’t really brown. They’re like amber.”
Evie sighed, a fairytale smile on her face. “Wow. Tell me about his shoulders.”
I wrinkled my nose. “His shoulders?”
“Like, what’s their span? How broad are they?”
“I don’t know. I’ll take a measuring tape the next time I go to the orphanage.”
“I mean are they broad? Muscled?”
“Oh yeah.” I gulped, just the thought of Cristiano’s body, hidden as it had been under his clothes made me tingle. “And he’s nice too,” I added. “At least I think he is. We only talked once.”
“That’s all you need, girlfriend.”
“No, it’s not. It could just be a cover. A nice facade hiding…”
“Hiding what, a lizard face?”
I stared at her.
“Lizard people,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “They’re all over the internet. Supposedly they’re real. The Queen of England is one.”
“Mm. Okay.”
“You’re just freaking out because you really like this guy, and you also happen to have a boyfriend. It’s fine, Blair. You don’t have a ring on your finger. You can see people if you want to. You never had the ‘we’re exclusive’ talk, did you?”
I forcefully shook my head. “I wouldn’t feel right about it. I just can’t do two guys at one time.”
“No one said you had to bang them both.”
I stabbed her in the shoulder with my pointer finger. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say anything about screwing. You’re projecting because you haven’t had sex in three months.”
“Hey,” she pouted. “Not fair. That was a low blow. My sex life has no part in this. What else are you going to do with a man who’s ‘so freaking hot’ as you put it?”
“Lots,” I argued, the only thing on my mind being Cristiano’s good looks.
“Uh-huh,” Evie sarcastically sniped.
“And who knows what he’s even like with girls. A guy like him can probably get any woman he wants.”
“So you’re suggesting he’s loose?”
I lifted a palm up in a plea of innocence. “Idon’t know.”
“You’re just looking for excuses to write him off because you feel guilty about liking him. You have no clue what he’s like with women. Just wait. See if he asks you out.”
I stared at my friend, impressed with the wealth of wisdom she just blurted out.
“I think he already kind of tried,” I confessed, my voice small.
Evie’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“He told me he didn’t want to wait to see me again at the orphanage, or something like that.”
“Shut up!” Evie squealed. “That’s so romantic… or creepy. Wait, no. It’s definitely romantic.”
I nodded. “So I mentioned that I had a boyfriend.”
“Ugh.” She stuck out her tongue. “Well, you and your starter kit boyfriend have a great night tonight.”
“We will,” I spat back. “We might watch a movie.”
“Good. That sounds like a really special time.” She made a dramatic act of studying her nails like she couldn’t give less of a shit.
I crossed my arms and stared at the coffee table. I didn’t want to believe Evie’s words about feeling guilty, but they were probably true.
“So just how long are you going to lie to yourself about you and Starter Kit?” she surprised me by asking.
“I don’t know,” I replied, trying for sarcastic, but failing. “How long do you plan on calling him that?”
“It’s a good one,” she grinned. “I think it’s a nickname that’s going to stick.”
I stood up and crossed the short space to my bedroom. “What are you doing tonight?” I yelled over my shoulder.
“I might go to the movies with Jamie,” she said to my back. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“The other meanie from work?”
“Yeah.”
I opened my closet and started pushing hangers to the side, looking for my embroidered peasant blouse. It had been months since I last wore it — the summer before, specifically — and the time had come to break it out again.
“Do you have this guy’s phone number?” Evie yelled from the other room. “Maybe I’ll go out with him while you and Starter Kit sit on the couch and talk about the weather. Do you want to borrow my Farmer’s Almanac?”
“Har har,” I grumbled, taking my t-shirt off and pulling the blouse on. I leaned over the little vanity pressed against the wall and swiped on some tinted lip balm before raking my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame the unruly bits. My hair had a slight amount of body, but nowhere near enough to classify it as curly. On good days, you could call it wavy. On bad days, it was frizzy as all hell.
A knock sounded on the front door.
“It’s Derek!” I yelled over my shoulder as I searched the vanity for my black-brown tube of mascara. “Will you get it?”
The floorboards squeaked, and the front door opened. A low male voice traveled across the apartment, but it wasn’t Derek’s. I tensed and dropped the mascara.
Evie laughed lightly over something. “These are amazing,” she cooed.
“Who is it?” I asked, going to the doorway.
Evie was just shutting the door, hiding whoever had stood there a moment before. In her hands was a bouquet of red roses sitting in a green vase.
“It’s a dozen,” she announced, grinning wide.
I stared, baffled. “Huh?”
“Someone sent you roses.” She buried her nose in them. “Wow, they smell so good.”
“Who sent me roses? Who was that at the door?”
She rolled her eyes and set the vase on my tiny little two-seater kitchen table. “It was the delivery guy. And according to the card…” She pulled the pale pink square of paper from its holder and read what was written on it. “Cristiano Leventis.” Her eyes glowed. “The guy?”
I slowly nodded, dumbstruck. “Yeah.”
“He must have gotten your address from the orphanage. Wow, he works fast.”
I walked across the living room, the intoxicating scent of the roses enveloping me and drawing me in. They were freshly cut, their petals vibrant and crisp at the edges, no signs of wilting on them at all.
Evie, still wearing a wide grin, leaned against the table. “Homeboy is making quite the move. I swear, Blaire, if you don’t go to him now, you need to send me in your place.”
“I told him I have a boyfriend,” I mumbled, my gaze still fixated on the roses. “Let me see that card.”
She handed it over. “Here, read for yourself. There’s a sexy love note attached.”
Blaire, the card said. It was lovely meeting you. I hope you have a wonderful week. Until we see each other again, Cristiano Leventis.
Evie sighed. “Even a simple note from him is swoon worthy.”
Another knock came from the front. I sucked in a breath. “Hide them,” I hissed.
Evie smirked but picked up the vase.
“Under the sink,” I whispered.
She complied, opening the cabinet and pushing some cleaning products to the side. “There’s some water down here. It looks like one of the pipes is leaking.”
“Forget about it,” I snapped. “Why are you worried about that now?”
Another knock sounded.
“Coming!” I announced in a louder voice.
Halfway to the front door, it opened. Derek looked down at the knob, a slightly puzzled look on his face. “Why is your door unlocked?” he asked.
“Why did you try to open it?” Evie snapped from somewhere behind me.
I quickly made a move to put out the swiftly encroaching fire.
With Evie’s quick temper, it could only be a matter of seconds before we were all surrounded by a hellish inferno. “It’s fine,” I insisted. “I must have forgotten to lock it after Evie got here.”
“Really?” His eyebrows knitted together. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Yeah, I know,” I agreed and wiped my sweaty palms on my blouse. “I didn’t have enough caffeine today. I’m totally suffering from it.”
“Yeah,” Evie agreed. “I thought you weren’t thinking straight.”
I turned and pierced her with a look. Her arms folded, she leaned against the kitchen counter that made a little peninsula to separate the living room from the kitchen. She gave nothing away, not even looking at me when I stared her down.
“I should be going,” she said. “Lots of things to do and places to be, you know. Movies to see… men to meet.” She walked over to the couch and picked up her purse. “See you guys later.”
“Bye,” I responded, wanting to literally push her out of the door at that point.
“Later,” Derek mumbled, stepping into the apartment so she could get past him.
A heavy silence followed the shutting of the door.
Derek peered at me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded vigorously and forced myself to stop. “Yes. Totally. Why?”
He pursed his lips and cocked his head slightly. “You just seem… uncomfortable. What were you and Evie talking about before I got here?”
“Nothing,” I blurted. “I mean, she was just sharing stories about work. If I seem out of whack, it’s the lack of caffeine.” I took a step backwards to sit down on the couch’s arm. “I have a headache from it.”
“Aw, sorry to hear that.” He stepped forward and placed his hand against my forehead, the palm nice and warm. “I’ll get you a Coke.”
“Um, okay. Thanks.” I tensed as I watched him walk around the couch and into the kitchen, each of his steps bringing him closer and closer to the hidden vase of flowers. He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a can of soda.
“This is the last one,” he announced, dragging out the cardboard container. Setting the soda down on the counter, he pressed the cardboard flat.
Realizing what he was about to do, I jumped to my feet. “I already took the recycling out,” I nearly shouted.
My recycling bucket sat under the sink… as in right next to the spot where the flowers were hidden. I hid enough things in my life, and I didn’t want to make doing so a habit, but under no circumstances could he see the flowers. Not only would I have to explain who Cristiano was, I’d also have to explain how unwelcome the flower delivery had been.
There’s nothing going on, I pictured myself saying. I barely even know this guy.
Then why is he sending you roses? Derek would ask.
On and on the conversation would go, for much longer than it needed to. Derek would want to know if I planned on going back to the orphanage, and I’d have to tell him Cristiano’s attention had nothing to do with my volunteering. It won’t get in the way, I’d promise. I’ll tell him to back off, and he’ll listen.
My head hurt in the two seconds it took just to imagine all the things we might say.
Derek stared at me like I was a crazy person. “Oookay,” he drawled out.
I walked across the living room and reached out to take the cardboard from him. “And I just cleaned the bucket, so I don’t want to put anything in there. I’ll just drop it in the bin on our way out. Thanks.”
I pulled the cardboard from his grasp. His eyes were on me, questioning everything. I forced myself to look up and smile. “Thanks for the soda. What did you want to do tonight? You still feeling up for a movie?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds good, but it’s whatever you want to do.”
I pressed the cardboard against my chest, holding onto it for dear life. “Let’s go to the movies.”
“Okay. Anything in particular you want to see?”
“Nope. Even James Bond would be good. I just want to get out.” And away from those fucking roses.
“Cool.” Derek wrapped an arm around my waist. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah,” I insisted, looking deep into his eyes. “Really. I’m fine.”
He slowly nodded. “Okay.” He leaned down, scooping his face towards mine. His lips pressed against my mouth, warm and gentle… but that was all. There was no spark, no flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
And I know those feelings typically don’t last forever. But when was the last time I felt them? Had it been that morning? I didn’t think so. Had they ever been there? Had I ever gotten giddy when Derek and I kissed or had it always merely felt pleasant?
Basic boyfriend. Evie’s words echoed in my head.
And the roses under the sink snuck into my vision, filling up the darkness beneath my eyelids as Derek kissed me.
CHAPTER THREE
e
I jogged over to the picnic table under the shade and took a seat. “Okay, guys,” I said, with as much volume as could be gotten out of my exhausted lungs. “We’re going back in a minute.”
“Aw,” Wyatt complained, bouncing the basketball on the grass near the table.
The other ten-year-old in the group, Jess, opened his mouth to add his own opinion, but I silenced him with a held up hand.
“Dinner is in thirty minutes,” I said. “You have to be back in time to get cleaned up for it, or Miss Teresa and Miss Amy will kill me.”
“Yeah, but at least we’d still get to play basketball,” Wyatt grinned, pleased with his ability to be such a smart alec.
I opened my mouth in mock shock. “Gee, thanks, Wyatt. I guess my health doesn’t matter to you at all. And who’s going to play at my funeral? You? Come on buddy, fork over your piggy bank. Let’s go.” I waggled my fingers at him, and a couple of the kids laughed.
“Go play if you want,” I said. “But really, we’re going in just a few minutes.”
All five kids headed back off into the sunlight, sprinting through the playground sandbox to get to the basketball court.
“Geez,” I muttered to myself. Where did they get such energy from? We’d been playing basketball for over an hour, and they were still running around like a litter of puppies, bumping into each other and yelping while lost in their play.
“I know.”
The familiar voice jolted me, sending me up and onto my feet. Still breathing heavily, I spun around to take in Cristiano. With his black suit and perfectly combed hair, he was the exact opposite of sweaty and frazzled me. And of course, he noticed. His eyes quickly swept over my head and across my face, taking me in. I tightly set my teeth, reminding myself that it didn’t matter if I looked like shit in front of him. It didn’t matter if the guy thought I was hot or not. He wasn’t available as a romantic possibility because I wasn’t on the market.
We both stayed where we were, the width of the picnic table separating us and joyful shrieks of kids playing filling the air.
“How are you?” he finally asked.
“Good.” I nodded, then nodded again.
Too much nodding. Stop it, Blaire.
Instead, I just kept nodding.
“And you?” I asked once I’d finally stopped bobble heading it.
He took a step around the table, coming closer to me. “I’ve been well, thank you. May I?”
Realizing he was asking to sit, I turned and stepped to the side. “Yes. Of course.”
I waited for him to get settled before taking my own seat a good two or three feet down the bench.
“Thank you for those flowers,” I said. Even though I have a boyfriend.
Afraid of Derek finding the roses, I’d kept them under the sink, opening the cabinet door every hour or so to admire them. Just because they’d been unwelcome didn’t mean I was about to throw them out.
I bit my bottom lip and forced myself to not say anything about what I was thinking.
“You’re welcome,” Cristiano said. �
��I… questioned sending them. After I placed the order, I realized it was probably too forward of me.”
I peered at him from the corner of my eye. Was he being sincere, or was he just saying what he thought I wanted to hear in an effort to win me over?
Either way, I began to breathe a little easier. “It was awfully forward, yeah, but still… thank you. I haven’t gotten roses in…” I trailed off. I’d never received roses. At least not as a romantic gesture. The last time flowers had come my way had been after my dad’s funeral. The house was full of them for weeks, first filling up the whole bottom floor with their sweet fragrance, then shriveling up and attracting fruit flies. My mom, still lying in bed for most hours of the day, had done nothing about it, so I’d dumped them all in a big trash bag and taken them out to the curb.
I pushed my tongue against my front teeth, remembering the putrid smell coming from the bottom of the trash can as I flung the white bag down into its depths. It was funny how old memories, things you hadn’t thought about in years, could just come back to you like that. One mention of flowers and I was thinking about my dad, who I hadn’t seen in so many years.
Cristiano was talking, and I focused my attention back on him. “You said you have a boyfriend, so I won’t force myself on you. I understand how unwelcome that can be.”
“Ah… yes,” I agreed, exhaling loudly. “It is.”
I looked down at my hand clutching the edge of the bench and then up and over at the basketball court. Surely a few minutes had passed since the kids last ran off. Cristiano arriving made it feel as if it had only been a few seconds, but no, of course that wasn’t right.
“Teresa sent me to bring you guys back,” Cristiano announced. “Dinner is in thirty minutes.”
“Right,” I agreed. Standing, I cupped my hands around my mouth to make a megaphone. “Come on, you guys! Time to go!”
The typical booing issued from the asphalt, but the kids grabbed their ball and came anyway, trudging off the court and onto the grass. One of them ran up to Cristiano and they fist bumped. Cristiano ruffled the boy’s hair, making the kid scramble to get away.
We began our journey back to the house, keeping on the side of the street with the most shade. The kids walked in front of us, joking and shouting, leaving Cristiano and me to bring up the rear. On the narrow sidewalk, I was all too aware of just how close our arms were.
