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::Bang :: Bang :: Bang::
Beneath a spray of water, mid-shampoo, fingers massaging my scalp, someone pounds on my front door. Worried it’s an emergency, I rinse off in record time, hop out, and quickly throw a towel around myself.
“Hold on! I’m coming!” I yell, dripping water halfway across my apartment to unlock the deadbolts and pull open the door without bothering to look through the peephole.
Securing the towel to my chest, one hand on the knob, I gasp when I come face-to-face with a bouquet on legs.
“Holy crap,” I hiss, staring straight into a sea of colorful blooms.
“Delivery,” the man laden with flowers says. “Sorry, I had to kick your door.”
“Uh. Those aren’t mine. They probably belong to Jessie down the hall.” I point to her door with the seasonal wreath, even though the guy can’t see me. Jessie’s ex is a stalker, always sending her flowers, balloons, and chocolates once a week.
“You, Kit?” He shifts the large bowl vase as if he can’t hold on much longer.
“No…” My brain freezes mid-thought, and I sigh, lips turning down into a frown. “Yes. That’s me.”
Fucking Gunz.
“I can’t see. Maybe you wanna back up, so I can set them inside somewhere?”
“Sure.” I slip away from the door to make room, streaking the small pool of water along with me. We don’t want him to fall and bust his behind on my crappy linoleum entry.
The scrawny boy I saw walking on the street just this morning when I went out to get the mail, sets the oversized arrangement in the center of my coffee table.
“The water makes it heavy,” he remarks as he dusts both hands on the sides of his jeans.
Unsure what I’m supposed to say to that when I’m wet and naked under a towel, inside my tiny apartment, with a stranger… I escort him to the door. “Thanks for the delivery,” I fib.
The kid knocks on the doorframe twice, wearing a put-on smile. “You have a nice day now.”
“You, too.” I shiver at his creep factor but don’t let it show.
Once the door’s secure, I about-face, and there it is… the bouquet. No, it’s more like a massive flower arrangement you see at funerals. The asshole bought me dead people blooms. With how the baldheaded jerk acted after the hottest moment of my life, followed by an idiotic text, this must be a goodbye gift. An our-flirty-friendship-is-dead-because-I-want-someone-younger send-off. A you’re-my-baby’s-mama-but-you-kiss-like-a-fish letdown. Why else would the world’s largest funeral spray be on my coffee table? Why else would he have sped from the parking lot like I disgusted him?
I don’t understand.
Not him.
Not men.
Nobody, it seems.
One minute, you like a man and he kisses you like you’re his, like he owns you. The next, he runs away like a coward. Like he realizes it’s you he’s kissing and not someone hot, like his lady friend, Niki.
Ugh.
This is why I don’t get caught up in those of the male variety anymore. The games are too much to stomach at my age. Been there. Done that. Have the T-shirt. I’ve got enough on my plate with Adam and keeping my head above water. I don’t need Gunz’s rollercoaster, too. I’m better than that, even if I don’t believethathalf the time.
Not bothering with the blooms or the card I see amid them, I return to the bathroom to finish my shower. I take my time—as much time as I need—and then more for good measure. Sure, my brain concocts a dozen implausible scenarios as to why I have that thingy in the living room. Nobody has ever bought me flowers before unless you count the dandelions Adam used to pick for me on his way home from the bus stop.
Double ugh.
Why did Gunz have to send them today?
It’s been a week since I last saw him.
A week of unknown.
