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Julian
I was prepared.I had flowers in my backpack, her favorite according to Alexis. Purple carnations.
Under normal circumstances, I'm opposed to buying a girl carnations. Like most flowers, they represent your feelings, but they're also cheap and generic. Now roses, those are flowers that send a message. Red for love. White for respect. Pink for sympathy.
If I'd been given a choice, I would have gone with orange roses. They represent budding romances and new relationships.
They represent us. Where we are. Or, at least, where we were. Unlike carnations.
But for Piper, I'd buy every carnation in the city if it meant she'd forgive me for being an asshole.
She wouldn't even look at me.
Not that I can blame her. I treated her like crap, gave her the cold shoulder, and left her without a word when she needed my support. All because I was scared as hell. Angry, a little. Not at her but at the situation. Sort of at myself. But mostly, I was scared of failing.
Who isn't?
No one likes to fail. It's depressing. It sucks the joy out of everything. And the last thing I want to do is suck the joy out of cooking. Especially when it's something Piper and I both love.
I follow at a safe distance as she bolts from the classroom. It's clear she's headed back to her dorm, so I divert to the library in hopes of finding Alexis. She's not behind the circulation desk, and when I ask the guy who is, he refuses to tell me when she works next.
"I can't give out employee schedules."
"I understand that, but I'm her friend."
"Maybe you should ask her then," he quips, turning his back to me.
If there has ever been a time I wanted to resort to physical violence, it’s then. This guy is an ass. He deserves a fist to the face. If I thought the dozen or so people watching our interaction wouldn't rat me out, I would have pulled him over the counter and pummeled him right then and there.
"Thanks for nothing," I toss over my shoulder as I turn to leave.
"Whatever," he mumbles to himself.
Stomping out of the library, my fists clenched to my sides, I turn toward Piper's dorm, ready to storm in there and force her to talk to me when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"You're tense for someone who's generally laid back," I hear Max say. "Something on your mind, pretty boy."
I hate it when he calls me that. He knows it. Which means he's trying to either rile me up or give me something else to focus on.
"Go away, Max. I'm not in the mood."
"Woah! Calm down." Max removes his hand, and I feel him step away from me. When I turn to face him, his hands are lifted in surrender.
"Sorry, man." I'm not, but I say the words anyway. It feels like I've been apologizing to everyone this weekend.
First, my parents. For obvious reasons. For screwing up with Piper and acting like a jackass. Then for not telling them about culinary school. They encouraged me to go if I was accepted and apologized for putting so much pressure on me to take over the restaurant. They knew I loved cooking but didn't realize I wanted to explore it beyond their restaurant.
Then to Brady, after I sucker punched him. Twice.
Can you even call it a sucker punch if he let me hit him? I don't think you can, but that's not the point. He has a nasty black eye right now courtesy of my fist. He deserved it. He knew it. He was waiting for me when I got home. I don't think it'll stop him from talking to my mom again if she approaches him, though.
And I've been trying to show Piper how sorry I am so I can apologize to her properly, but she's not ready.
So my anger is boiling. Not at Max, even though it sounds like I am, but at myself for screwing things up in the first place.
Slowly he lowers his hands and tucks them in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he waits for me to respond. When he realizes I have nothing else to say, he changes the subject the way he always does.
"So, the party this weekend. We've had to change a few things up. It's at the Zeta house now instead of ours. Fucking Cleo threw a fit. I swear she's the worst sorority president to have to work with."
