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I’m halfway to Jade’s apartment when I realize I never stopped for the beer. I consider my options: arrive late or arrive empty-handed. The flowers sway in the passenger seat with the movement of the car. I guess I wouldn’t be totally empty-handed. Plus, I don’t want her thinking I’m the kind of person who’s always late or almost late. The only reason I was almost late to that first rehearsal was that I almost didn’t go at all, and I had to do Dallas-Cowboys-cheerleader levels of pep-talking to convince myself to leave my apartment.
Even now, I’m blasting music to pump me up for the evening: Coldplay’s “Something Just Like This” is turned up so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. I can’t do anything for the sweat pooling under my arms, but I wipe my palms on my jeans, hoping Jade won’t notice how sweaty I am. Is it normal to be this sweaty? Oh god, that’s not attractive at all. I wrestle my jacket off while I’m driving, turning the AC on full blast and rolling down the windows.
Somehow, I make it to her apartment and park by 6:58 p.m., arriving just in time. I leave the box of condoms in the car but take the flowers, gripping them like they’re liable to fly out of my hand. I make my way to her apartment with shaky knees and knock on the door.
5
IAN
“Things growing are not ripe until their season . . .”Act II, Scene II
“Are you serious?” Jade asks when she opens the door. She blinks a few times, and in the span of those blinks I run through a million options of what might be wrong but come up empty.
“Uh . . .”
She gestures to the flowers, her brows knitting in confusion.
“Oh!” Relief floods me, tension releasing in my shoulders. “I just thought it was a nice . . . They’re for you.”
“Um . . . okay,” she says, taking the flowers from me with the most neutral reaction I’ve ever seen a girl have toward receiving flowers.
I grew up with a dad who bought flowers for my mom and my sisters on Valentine’s Day, and on every birthday. He even bought me flowers after all my shows. “Flowers aren’t just for romance, Ian. Everyone deserves to get flowers once in their life.”
I guess maybe not everyone likes flowers.
Jade walks through her living room and into her kitchen, and I follow her, closing the door behind me and trying not to panic that I’ve made a bad second impression.
“Can you lock it?” she asks casually, as if it’s not my first time here and I’m a regular houseguest.
I lock the door and take the opportunity, while her back is to me, to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I wander through the living room, which is a lot nicer than I expected it to be. There’s a large, comfortable-looking couch and a massive entertainment center housing a really nice, obviously new TV that is definitely not a hand-me-down from someone’s older sister. There are real curtains on the windows and a curtain rod that looks like it cost more than ten dollars. I live in the apartments too, but neither my roommate nor I have made half this effort. We have an old futon and didn’t even bother with curtains. Our TV is on a stand from my roommate’s parents’ basement and has definitely seen better days. This place looks professionally decorated, and it smells pleasantly of cleaning solution.
“Okay, what the fuck is this?” Jade asks, a half-laugh in her words.
I join her in the kitchen to see what the problem is.Did I accidentally stick the condoms in the flowers or something? Are the flowers dead?I look for something amiss, but all I see is Jade holding out the flowers.
“What?” I ask.
She points to a small circular sign in the middle of the flowers reading “Congrats! It’s a girl!”
My stomach drops to my feet and my throat drops into the space where my stomach used to live. My face heats so fast that I worry for a split second I might actually faint. Which would still be less embarrassing than bringing baby flowers to this already weird potential hookup situation.
Whatever Jade sees on my face must delight her, because she throws her head back in a howling laugh. It’s loud and kind of honky, and despite wanting to crawl into a tiny cave and never come out, her unselfconscious laugh elicits a smirk from me.
“This is hilarious,” she says and finds a mason jar to put the flowers in. She cuts the stems, fills the glass with water, and arranges the bouquet in the jar, not removing the “congrats” sign.
“I’m sorry. I was sort of in a rush. I just grabbed the first ones?—”
“You are adorable, Ian.”
My face, which had finally cooled down, heats again. My cheeks burn, and the tips of my ears must be bright red if how hot they are is any indication of how hard I’m blushing. Does she always offhandedly compliment people like that? I’ve never had anyone call me adorable except my grandma. Is that a bad sign for building chemistry? A good sign? I slide my hand into my pocket and hold my phone. The temptation to text Seth quickly to check almost compels me to ask where the bathroom is, but before I can say anything, Jade is sliding a beer across the counter toward me.
“Catch,” she says as the beer stops a few inches away from me.
I take the cold glass bottle and follow Jade to the couch, where we both sit. It’s as comfortable as it looks, with big, plush seats and the kind of material you want to run your hand over just to watch the pattern it makes.
“I’m impressed by your apartment. Did you do all this?”
“Nah. Mac’s mom is super into decorating, so we just let her go to town.”
