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Beckett sweepshis eyes over me. I have a cropped white hoodie on, paired with my black ball cap, black leggings, and sneakers. “What?” I ask.
“You look edible,” he deadpans.
I rear back. “How? I don’t have makeup on, I’m wearing leggings, and my hair may or may not be brushed.”
“Doesn’t matter what you wear, Brixley,” he says, holding a hand out for me. I take it. “I’ll always find you desirable.”
The flipping thing in my stomach, paired with the warmth in my chest, has me feeling dizzy. He’s stripping away every doubt, every bad thought, I’ve ever had about him, turning them into something pure and everlasting.
We reach the hall and I hear Primrose around the corner. Turning, I see her and Vance standing at the elevator. “He’s a friend. Not that it’s any of your business.” Primrose throws her hands up.
“You’re my business,” Vance growls.
“No. I’m not,” she says sternly.Go Prim.
Vance steps to her, black boots against closed-toe flats. “One day, when I stop chasing you, you’ll regret it, Angel.”
I clear my throat. “Hi.” I wave awkwardly as Primrose takes a step back. “Whatcha guys doing?” I look up to Beckett, who shakes his head slightly.
“Going to the Seattle Great Wheel.” Prim tries to smile but something sad lingers in her eyes.
“Oh, the Ferris wheel? I wanted to go to that, but Beckett here—”
“Hates beautiful views,” Beckett cuts me off. I give him a ‘really?’ look.
“That’s depressing, Beckett.” Primrose frowns.
“Fucker is scared of heights,” Vance supplies.
Beckett scowls and I laugh. “Yes. Exactly that.” Vance winks at me and something moves through me. That kindle of recognition sparks but dies out. I look at Vance, confused.
“What’s up, Soulless? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shake my head as the elevator opens. “No reason,” I whisper.
We all step in, but as they chatter, I’m lost in thought. I can’t figure out why Vance, of all people, is familiar to me. I follow in robotic motions until we are out in the streets. Vance and Primrose walk with us, but their stop is before ours. Beckett squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just some déjà vu,” I smile up at him, “but I’m okay. Where to first?”
“Pike Place Market.” He looks out at the crowd, and I admire the beauty of the wind sweeping through his brown hair, how the sun catches and melts in his eyes.
My attention is pulled from him as I take in the crowd of people coming in and out of the opening of Pike’s Market. The smell of freshly cooked food, fish, and coffee, and the hint of sea salt coming from the ocean assault me as I take it all in. There are so many venders selling delicious smelling food, freshly caught fish, home-grown spices, and homemade pastas. People bump into me, but I don’t even care as I take it all in. It’s amazing, better than any farmers’ market I’ve been to. A table full of rows and rows of beautiful bouquets of flowers catch my eyes and I tug on Beckett’s hand, leading him to them. Colors of every shade, flowers of every shape and kind. They smell fresh and look dainty. Like Primrose. “Pick one out, or ten,” Beckett says, looking down at his phone as if he isn’t seeing the beauty I am.
It’s so hard to decide, but I finally settle on a bundle of sunflowers paired with amaryllises, tulips, anemones, marigolds, and zinnias. I bring them to my nose, eyes closing as I sniff the aromatic scent. I hear a click and my eyes flash open to Beckett pointing his phone at me. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Gonna draw you later, Rabbit.” He smiles down at his phone before pocketing it.
“Can I at least approve of the picture?”
“No. Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder’?”
I narrow my eyes. “I have, but I would still like to see.”
“You can when I’m finished.” He holds his hand out. “Come on, we still have a lot to see.”
He takes my hand, handing a hundred over to the small market woman and telling her to keep the change. The flowers were only twenty. See, there is a kind soul in this brood of a man. He leads me down some stairs where there is no more natural sunlight filtering through and only streetlamps light the way as old antique stores come into view. “What’s this?” I ask.
