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“And how’s that working out for you now?” I asked.
He pointed a long stem gerbera at me. “Shush.”
Lina was still bouncing. “When are you seeing him again?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Wednesday, maybe? Definitely on the weekend but I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
Lina made a high-pitched keening sound, and Robbie sighed. “So, the new outfits worked. You’re welcome.”
“Yes, he noted the brands, so thank you for that. And he said you had good style.”
Robbie arched one eyebrow and pursed his thick lips. “Well, good to know he knows talent when he sees it.”
I sighed happily. It felt so bizarre to talk about this so openly. I felt like a giddy schoolboy with a crush.
Remembering how I’d left his place last night, how I’d left him in bed, completely sated. I’d kissed him and made it to his bedroom door before I had to turn around and go back to kiss him again.
I hadn’t wanted to leave at all.
It was only the fact I had a 4:30 am alarm that made me leave.
I could still see the smile on his face in the darkened room. His body in a tangle of sheets, too boneless to move, too sleepy. Too beautiful.
I wanted that sight tattooed in my memory.
“I need to send him more flowers,” I said. I wanted him to know I was thinking of him. That I hadn’t stopped thinking about him.
“Okay, simmer down, lover boy,” Robbie said. “Or you’ll scare him off.”
“Red roses,” Lina said. “Classic, stylish.”
Robbie made a face. “Cliché.” He plucked a white hyacinth out of its bucket. “Loveliness.”
Hmm, loveliness.
He sure is that.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Perfect.”
“How many?” he asked. “The entire bucket full?”
“No, just one.” Then I thought about it. “No, maybe I should make him a paper one. It means more. I’ll need to google that.”
Robbie slow blinked at me, then he speared the hyacinth back into its bucket. “You are a lost cause, my friend. Now hurry up and give us the order list or we may as well shut the shop and go home.” He snapped his fingers again. “So look alive. Yes, it’s wonderful that you’ve found love and are finally having sex after the longest drought in gay history, but people are waiting on flower deliveries.”
I was just about to tell him to shut up when the door opened, the bell chiming. Lina took her job sheet with a smile and Robbie snatched his with his usual sass, and I greeted the customer.
“Morning,” I said, cheerfully.
The said customer was a young guy, maybe early twenties. He wore black-and-white chequered pants, black boots, with a bright orange coat. His hair was styled up, he wore a long silver earring in each ear and bright nail polish.
He turned, his gaze going from my face to my name tag to my face again, and he smiled. “Morning. I’m just looking right now, but I was wondering if you could help me.”
I shrugged. “Sure. What can I help you with?”
“I’m after something that sends a message.”
Okay then.
