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“Will do. And you’ll call me with any updates.”
“I think I’m safe until Monday.”
“Talk later. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” When the call disconnects, I drop my cell onto my dresser and flop back on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
When I woke up this morning I had the worst pit in my stomach, thinking what did I do? But after talking to Hannah I feel mildly better about it. She’s right. What’s the harm in letting Harris try to win me over? It’s not like he’ll actually succeed...
Right?
I don’t have long to worry over it before my cell phone starts ringing, pulling me from my thoughts. Shooting up in bed, I scramble to my feet and snag the device off my dresser. I damn near fall over when I see Harris’ name flashing across the screen. We’d exchanged numbers last night before the Uber dropped me off.
I debate whether or not to answer it for so long that the call ends up going to voicemail. Unsure if I should call him back or not, I decide to head into the kitchen to make something to eat and mull it over. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about all of this. I mean, I hate the guy...don’t I?
My apartment is small, and given that the bedroom is right off the kitchen/living room combo, it doesn’t take me long to reach my destination.
I moved in here after James and I split. I picked this place because of how close it is to my job, plus I love being in the city. I love the hustle and bustle of the people coming and going, along with all the things there are to do here. It’s not much but it’s nice and it’s easy to manage, which is a bonus for someone who has some serious clean freak tendencies. Sometimes I wish I had a bigger place but what do I need it for? It’s just me and it’s not like I have a ton of stuff. I’m a pretty minimalistic person.
I’ve just popped some frozen pancakes into the microwave when a hard knock sounds on my front door. Startled by the unexpected noise, I jump slightly.
Crossing to the front door, I stand up on tip toes to peer out of the peep hole. The first and only thing I see is a huge bouquet of flowers blocking my view of anything else. Sure they must have the wrong address; I open the door to inform them only to find out that they are, in fact, for me.
“Are you sure?” I ask the delivery guy for a second time as he shoves the bouquet into my arms.
“I’m sure. Have a good day.” He turns and heads back down the hallway without another word.
Closing the door, I make my way back into the kitchen, setting the flowers, a beautiful array of blues and reds, on the countertop before searching for a card. Plucking it out of the middle, I peel it open with shaky fingers.
Roses may be red,
but violets arenotBLUE.
Something else surprising is,
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Am I winning yet?
Harris
I laugh. What the hell else am I supposed to do? He sent me flowers.
Wait, how did he know where I live? Yes, he knows the building because he was with me when the Uber dropped me off last night, but I never mentioned which apartment I live in. If I wasn’t so distracted trying to figure outwhyhe sent me flowers, I might be more concerned.
If he thinks he can get me to fall in love with him by sending me something that will be dead in days, he really doesn’t have as much game as I thought.
Then again, the gesture is oddly sweet. And the card. I didn’t miss the way he intentionally used my name in his little attempt at a poem. And he wasn’t wrong, violets are actually purple, or well, violet.
But it’s the other words that have my mind wondering...I can’t stop thinking about you.
“Relax, Blue. It’s just a bet,” I reassure myself, grabbing my cell phone to snap a picture before quickly shooting it over to Hannah.
Me: He actually sent me flowers! Can you believe it?
After sending the message, I notice I have a new voicemail. Clicking on the icon, I press the phone to my ear, a full-blown shiver running through my body at the sound of Harris’ voice on the line.
“Hey Blue, it’s Harris.”
