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DMC GROUP CHAT
Griff:So … date with Ford, huh?
Orson:Dammit, Art! Ignore him. It was a date.
Orson:WASN’T. I meant wasn’t.
Payne:…
Orson:I meant wasn’t! Fucking autocorrect. We just met up for dinner and kinks.
Orson:DRINKS!
Art:Oh, this is gold.
Orson:You know what, I don’t need to explain myself.
4
Ford
I walkinto Oopsie Daisies—one of the only places in town not named after the Kilborough Penitentiary that drives our tourism—for the billionth time this month. And maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but considering I’d never stepped foot in here before a month ago, the place has become familiar.
Which could possibly be because of my sudden flower-buying obsession.
Even with a new assistant, I can’t keep myself away.
Orson glances up from where he’s leaning on his counter, doing a crossword puzzle. “Good timing. Motor part that starts withP.”
“Pistons.”
“So clever.” He folds his arms over the counter rather than writing anything down.
“You already had it, didn’t you?”
“First guess, yeah.”
“Smart-ass.” I turn my attention to the flowers rather than his knowing stare.
“What’s the occasion this time?” he asks.
“Jeff’s mother’s retiring.”
“And Jeff is …”
“My newest hire.” I puff out my chest, daring him to call me on it, but Orson doesn’t even laugh. I catch him biting his lip against one, though, before he schools his face and approaches me.
“In that case, daisies and daffodils. Something bright. Promising.” He points to a yellow bunch that has a few purple tones throughout.
“Maybe something red?”
“Sure.” He shrugs and points across the store. “I didn’t realize you were trying to get her into bed.”
I snort. “Even if I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t cross those lines.”
“What happened to not being picky?”
“I’m definitely not, but I also have standards. They’ve gotta be available, and they’ve gotta be interested. I don’t chase.”
