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Smiling, I tap out a simple two-word response.
Me:She is.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DAISY
I’msecond-guessing my every decision tonight. From how I do my hair to how much makeup I put on my face to the dress I’m currently wearing, which feels like too much. I’m completely overdressed and I probably look stupid.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser, I rub my sweaty palms on the skirt, then shake my hands out, afraid I’ll ruin the dress.
I’m a mess. An excited, overwhelmed mess who’s about to go on a date with a boy who I’ve let finger me to orgasm not just once but twice.
Who am I? What happened to the Daisy I used to be?
I’m not that girl anymore. I’m someone different now and I don’t know if I like it. The new me is a little terrifying. But the idea of going back to the old me, who spoke to no one and never caught the attention of a certain boy?
That terrifies me even more.
Sliding my fingers through my hair, I tuck one side behind my ear, liking how it looks, cascading down my back in loose waves. It took forever to curl my hair and get the waves to stick since my hair is always so bone straight. I’ve got my daisy earrings in my ears because when do I not? But today, tonight, I have to wear them. My mother gave them to me. They’re special.
The ring on my finger is from her too. It belonged to her and my dad gave it to me after she died. I stare at the ring. A simple thin gold band with a tiny pearl sitting right in the center. It was the first piece of jewelry my father gave to my mother as their first wedding anniversary present.
I rarely wear it. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry at all but tonight I even have a necklace on. I’m dressing up.
For Arch.
The dress I’m wearing is made of the softest denim and has a deep V neckline, though it’s not very wide so it doesn’t expose much skin. The skirt is tiered, ending at about mid-thigh and while I’m not showing that much skin—no more than I would on a regular school day—I feel almost…sexy in this dress. It’s simple and cute and the platform sandals I’m wearing are the perfect touch.
At least, I hope they are. I hope Arch sees me and thinks I’m beautiful.
There’s a knock on the front door and I run out to the living room, coming to a skidding stop before the door and smoothing my hands down my skirt, reminding myself I need to be calm.
It’s just Arch.
Taking a deep breath, I paste a small smile on my lips before I unlock and throw open the door.
He’s standing on the doorstep, clutching a pot full of daisies in his arm. Reminding me of the other pot he gave me earlier today. “These made me think of you.”
Thrusting the pot out toward me, I take it from him, smiling like a loon. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re daisies.”
“I know.” We share a look and I’m tempted to toss the pot aside and throw myself at him.
But I don’t.
Instead, I look my fill for a few seconds. He’s so handsome in the pressed khakis and blue button down that’s open at the neck, showing off the strong column of his throat. His hair is damp and pushed back from his face and he appears freshly shaven.
Just staring at him makes my chest—and other key body parts—ache with longing.
“Let me put this away.” I hold up the pot and turn to go set it in the kitchen, nervousness buzzing through my veins when I realize he’s followed me into the house. It’s when I’m at the kitchen sink about to run a little water in the soil that I feel him, pinning me in place, his front to my back. Solid and warm.
His arms sneak around my waist from behind, delivering a soft kiss to the side of my neck that leaves me a shivery mess. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful, especially with your hair down?”
I shake my head, smiling as I reach out and turn off the water. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, you do. Happy Birthday.” Another lingering kiss on my neck and I’m afraid if he keeps this up, we won’t leave the house.
