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Neither of those motivations would be reason to vilify Blaze, though, would they? They show he cares.
He cared enough to pull strings and make arrangements for me.
He shouldn’t have done it without asking, but he did act with my best interest in mind.
Tears pop into my eyes again and I blink them back. “Yeah, he’s a good guy,” I manage to say, probably not pulling off casual as well as I hope.
Blaze is a good guy. He’s a great guy.
And I probably owe him a chance to explain himself. I’ll send him a text when I head home to open the door for a talk.
* * *
Blaze
I waitoutside Lia’s apartment for ninety minutes before I see someone approach. I’m not sure if it’s lucky or unlucky that I recognize the guy. He’s the geeky neighbor who asked if she was okay that night I left the door open.
“Excuse me—hang on!” I call out, jogging up to him.
He flinches and throws me a suspicious look over his shoulder, but the flowers catch his eye and he stops. “Hey, you live next to Lia, right?” I speak fast before he pushes in and leaves me with my dick hanging in the wind. “Today’s her birthday and I wanted to leave this for her. Could you let me up? Or will you leave these in front of her door for me?”
He gives me another guarded sweep of his eyes, but snatches the vase with the giant bundle of flame-colored flowers from my hand.
“This too.” I thrust an envelope forward. It’s my apology and the outline of how I hope to fix the situation.
The neighbor gives it a mistrustful glance, and I draw up just a bit, using my size now to intimidate him. He grabs it and pushes in.
“Thanks, man!” I call after him and return to my park bench where I can keep an eye out for Lia’s return. I’ve never felt more like a stalker. I think about leaving about twenty times. But it’s too late now—the note went upstairs. She’ll be looking out her window. If she reads it.
I guess the chance of her chucking it straight in the wastebasket is medium to high.
When I finally see her approach, my chest cinches up tight. There’s no spring in her step. Her youthful face appears older, and tired. Dark circles are under her eyes.
Shit. I did this to her.
I don’t get off the bench until she’s inside. I’m not going to force my presence on her until she’s ready to talk. I need to give her space. But I also need her to know I’m going to do everything in my power to make things right.
I pick up the paper bag of lighter fluid beside me and get to work.
It’s showtime.
* * *
Lia
When I getto my door, I find a giant vase of flowers propped against my door. The flowers are spectacular—like nothing I’ve ever seen. Brilliant flame-orange tiger lilies mixed with blood-red roses.
It’s a fire bouquet. The flowers you give to a pyro.
My foolish heart picks up speed, thrilled to be honored this way. I pick them up and find a long envelope behind with my name scrawled on the front in block letters. I open the door and stumble in, setting the flowers down to tear open the envelope.
Lia,
You were never a project to me. You were (are) the brightest thing to come into my life in a long time. Maybe ever. I think we had (have) something special together, and I sure as hell am going to do everything in my power to get it back.
I’m so fucking sorry I tried to dick with your life without talking to you first. I never should’ve presumed that way. I understand now that I took the dynamic we have in the bedroom and applied it to real life and that was wrong and offensive.
I want you to know that I put you back on the schedule starting tomorrow, and I got myself transferred to another station, so you don’t have to worry about anything being awkward when you go back to work.
