Clive spent much of the next week in a haze. He stumbled through his work week, dazed and distant. He didn't even have the energy to be anxious like he always was during his deliveries, just dropping off the flowers silently and leaving as soon as he was dismissed. It was like a veil had been drawn back between him and the rest of the world - he could see it and hear it, but couldn't interact with it, like being a spectator watching the movie of real life.
Cid quickly picked up on his strange mood. He asked him about it on Tuesday, but Clive had simply brushed him off with even fewer words than he normally would. He could tell that Cid was worried for him. He kept checking in with him, asking him if he needed anything, bringing him coffee and breakfast in the morning and paying for his lunches to make sure he ate, which was no longer a thing he was guaranteed to remember to do. Clive merely accepted his kindness without protest, knowing he was trying to help. He simply thanked him hollowly and moved on.
Besides, even if he woke up from his trance-like state, what was he supposed to tell him? That he had ruined one of the few good things left to him? That without Jill there, his life felt empty and meaningless? Cid had already done him so many kindnesses. He didn't want to sound ungrateful, even as he longed for the comfort that Monday afternoons used to bring.
No. Better to just shut down, to separate himself from the rest of the world. Feeling anything hurt too much right now, and though sleepwalking through his days was hardly ideal, he'd rather that than laying on the floor of his apartment and letting the carpet absorb his tears. Better to feel nothing at all than endure the full weight of his mistakes.
The first Monday without her presence brought with it a unique sort of pain. He used to look forward to the first day of the work week, knowing that it would bring with it the chance to see Jill again. Now, it just felt like another reminder of what he had lost, one more way for him to remember how he always ruined everything. He dragged his feet on every delivery, and breathed a sigh of relief when Cid finally released him to go home for the day.
But as he made to leave the building, Cid gave him an odd look. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked Clive.
Clive stared at him numbly, trying to figure out what he could have missed. He had finished his work and had been excused by Cid, had returned the store phone to its charger. He didn't want to hang around the shop any longer than he had to - today especially, it reminded him of Jill. "Am I?" he asked wearily.
"Don't you usually buy flowers for your lady friend on Monday?" Cid prompted.
Oh. He had never told Cid what had happened. He had gone straight home after Jill had found out the truth, and Cid hadn't seen him break down, only the aftereffects. Cid had never even known the details of what he did with the flowers, for Clive had never told him the full truth of his and Jill's clandestine meetings, though surely he must have suspected. Their conversations were special to him - not a secret, but their time together felt intimate enough that he didn't want to share the whole story.
But regardless of what he did and didn't know, Cid had unknowingly been one of Clive's biggest supporters in this whole endeavor. He had continued to source snow daisies for Clive's gifts, even though they were expensive and difficult to procure. No doubt he already had a bouquet waiting for him. He didn't want to disappoint him after he had already gone through the work.
So Clive steeled himself and approached the counter. "I'll take a bouquet of snow daisies, please."
Cid grinned at him. "One order of snow daisies, coming right up." He didn't even pretend like he was going into the back to trim the stems and arrange the flowers, instead just turning to the refrigerator and plucking the already-made bouquet from its spot on the shelf and handing it over to him. "Give my regards to your girl, yeah?"
Clive swallowed thickly, his eyes focusing on the counter in front of him as he swiped his card. He had to tell him the truth - or at least some version of it. He couldn't ask Cid to keep finding him snow daisies, couldn't keep buying bouquets every Monday, for something that could never be. "Cid," he whispered. "It...it fell through. I'm sorry." He didn't have the heart to tell him the whole story, about how he had fucked everything up once again.
Cid's eyes softened. "Don't be sorry, lad," he said softly. " I'm sorry. What happened?"
Clive just shook his head. If he told him, he'd start crying, and if he started Clive wasn't sure when he'd stop. Maybe never. "I don't want to talk about it," he said hoarsely.
"I understand," Cid said immediately. Clive was thankful for his consideration. "If you decide you want to talk about it, or if you want advice, I'm here. But...if it didn't work out, why the flowers?"
Clive stared down blankly at the flowers in his hands. Because I didn't want to disappoint you , he almost said, but it almost felt like he was saying it was Cid's fault that he was buying the flowers. "I...don't know," he said after a long hesitation. "I just...wanted to pretend. Just for a minute." It was equally true, because for a moment, when he was buying the flowers, he had envisioned himself returning to Jill's door. She would beckon him across the threshold, smiling and greeting him like she always did.
But then the fantasy had come crashing down, and Clive was still left with the flowers in his hands and nothing to do with them. He couldn't take them back home. It'd be too painful of a reminder.
"Do you have a plan for those?" Cid asked gently.
"No," Clive replied, still staring down at the white blooms.
"Huh," was Cid's response. Then, "You know, the shop could use a little brightness. If you'd like, we can display them on the counter. Maybe we'll get a few more people interested in purchasing them. They are lovely flowers, after all."
"All right," Clive said, handing the flowers over to Cid. He grabbed one of their many vases and placed the flowers within. Better to have them here than to have them at home, where'd they'd only bring up more memories.
"Perfect," Cid said, satisfied when the bouquet was arranged by the cash register to his liking. He glanced over at Clive, who was still staring dazed at the snow daisies. "You're free to head home or hang around the shop if you'd like. Just remember - if you need anything, whether that's a fresh bouquet or advice, I'm here for you. I've gone through my fair share of breakups. I remember how difficult it is - but I promise that it will get better."
Clive just nodded along, but he struggled to believe him. A shadow had been cast over his life for the past week, and he struggled to even imagine the sun cutting through it, let alone believe that he would see it again. He couldn't even rightfully call this a breakup, for he and Jill hadn't been dating. They had barely been friends.
He had thought that going home would help to alleviate some of his distress, or at least return him to his slump instead of leaving him in pain. He was sorely mistaken. Going home only seemed to make it worse . Stepping back through his apartment door made him think of all the times he had returned home after dropping off flowers with Jill, all the ways he'd analyze their every conversation to try to discern the tiniest bit of interest from her (and immediately excuse it as his imagination on the off chance he found something that might have resembled attraction). He wanted to stop by his favorite restaurant with the little dumplings, but that would only make him think of the time that he had bought Jill dinner. Cooking for himself was out of the question, for that would only make him think of all the wonderful meals she had shared with him. He couldn't settle down with his favorite television show, because he and Jill had discussed it several times. Everything seemed to remind him of her and cut him afresh with all the ways he had failed.
Instead, Clive took Torgal for a run. He ran and ran and ran circles around his local park, until his shirt was soaked with sweat and Torgal was panting and nearly collapsing in the grass. He took his dog home, made sure he was fed and watered, showered, and climbed into bed, though it was barely sunset. At least the darkness of a dreamless sleep would bring him some relief.
He fully expected the next Monday to be much like the previous one - and oh, it was . Each delivery made him think of Jill. Once, he passed right by her apartment building on the way to drop off a bouquet. He was tempted to pull over, go up the stairs and knock on her door, fall on his knees and beg for her forgiveness even though he wasn't worthy of it. He forced himself to keep driving.
He drifted for the rest of the day in a dissociative state. His clients didn't comment on it, thank goodness, and simply tipped him and sent him on his way. Despite the fact that he was more or less mindlessly going about his work, the day seemed to stretch on forever.
Finally, he dropped off his last set of flowers and made his way back to Cid's . He would be glad to be back home. He still felt like he was stumbling his way through a dream, but at least now he could do it in the comfort and safety of his own apartment rather than out in the real world. All he needed to do was drop off the delivery phone back on its charger and he'd be free to be miserable on his own for the rest of the day. He set his hand on the metal handle of the front door to the shop - and froze.
He could see through the glass door all the way to the register. Cid was currently with a client, standing behind the counter and speaking to a woman with her back facing towards Clive. Her silver hair fell like a waterfall almost all the way to her hips, bound with a simple blue ribbon at the end. She had a braid trailing behind one ear, loose from the rest of her hair.
There was only one woman that he knew with hair like that.
Suddenly, Clive was wide awake.
His hand locked around the handle to the front door, unable to release it to back away and equally incapable of pulling the door open to enter the shop. He stood in awe at the vision in front of him, of Jill standing in the building, illuminated by the slowly setting sun and surrounded by flowers. He drank her in - it had been far too long since he had last seen her. He knew that he shouldn't be staring - he wasn't allowed to look anymore - but he couldn't stop himself from taking the opportunity to observe her before she noticed him. Even knowing all of his mistakes, how he had hurt her, he still craved her presence - but if looking at her one last time was all he was permitted, he'd take what he could get.
Cid's eyes flicked up over Jill's shoulder to meet his own, and Clive jumped as he noticed him. The sudden motion jostled the door, and the little bell tinkled slightly as the metal of the frame hit it. Jill made to turn to look over her shoulder, but tiny motion spurred Clive into action. He pulled his hand away from the door as if burned and fled around the corner before she could catch sight of him. Clive ducked into the alley between the florist's and the store next door, leaning against the brick wall. He pressed his hand against his mouth as if to muffle his breathing, but quickly removed it. She was inside the shop - it wasn't like she could hear him through the walls.
What was Jill doing here? He wracked his brain and tried to think of an answer. The only thing he could come up with was that, in order to avoid him, she was ordering flowers and picking them up herself. That, or she decided to go directly to Cid to make a formal complaint against him. He hoped that wasn't the case - she could be as mad at him as she wanted, but Cid hadn't had anything to do with this. He didn't want her to take his mistakes out on Cid.
Finally, he heard the doorbell ring as the door was opened. Clive carefully crept closer to the corner, just to see if she was leaving, and was greeted by the sound of voices.
"Will you let me know how it goes?" He recognized the sweet, melodious voice as Jill's. He would have known it even if he was blind.
"I suspect you'll know before me," Cid's lower, gravely bass responded, "but yeah. I'll let you know."
"Thank you, Cid. I appreciate it," Jill said warmly.
"It's nothing," Cid brushed her off. "I'm glad you came by. I don't think I could have watched him mope for another week. It's enough to break even my heart."
"I'm glad I came by, too," Jill responded. "I just hope this helps to clear the air. For both of us."
"I hope so, too. I'm rooting for you both."
"Thanks, Cid. Hopefully I'll see you again soon."
There was a crunch of gravel under shoes as Jill walked away from Cid. As she moved further away from the building, she finally came into view, and Clive couldn't resist craning his neck out a bit to get a better look at her. She stopped next to her car and hesitated. Then, she turned to look back at the shop. Clive shrunk back against the wall, hoping she wouldn't spot him.
Thankfully, she didn't notice him. Her gaze skimmed over the building, taking it in, a strange mix of longing and hope in her eyes. He tilted his head slightly, wondering what she was looking at to cause her to make that expression.
He didn't get the chance to discover what she was looking at, because after heaving a deep sigh, Jill turned back and stepped into the driver's side of her car. Even after she pulled out of the parking lot, Clive stayed in his hiding spot, watching the space she had just disappeared from.
Finally, Clive convinced his leaden feet to move once again. As much as he wanted to stand here, envisioning Jill standing in the parking lot staring at the shop, Cid was probably expecting him back at the shop. He should have returned some time ago, and he didn't want to make him worry.
Still, he hesitated before crossing the threshold. He surreptitiously peeked into the shop before opening the door. Even though he had seen Jill leave just minutes ago, he didn't want a shock like the one he had just received. Besides, he still had no idea why she had visited. Part of him feared that she had decided to report him to Cid after all, that she had showed up at the shop to tell him how he had distressed her and that he was going to be handed a pink slip as soon as he stepped foot in the door. Clive steeled himself before pushing the front door open.
Cid looked up as soon as the bell above the threshold tinkled. "Welcome back," he said as soon as Clive stepped through the door.
"Hello," Clive mumbled, standing near the doorway.
Cid stared at him for a moment as he paused, still holding the door open. "Well?" he prompted. "Are you coming in or out? You're going to let all the warm air escape if you keep standing there like that."
"Oh," Clive said sheepishly. "In, I guess." He finally let the door fall shut behind him. He looked at Cid expectantly, waiting for him to say something, to tell him about his strange visitor or to tell him that he was fired or anything else, but Cid simply went back to configuring something on the register computer. "Did...anything exciting happen while I was gone?" he asked hesitantly. It was a strange question to pose - Clive was rarely one to start conversations, and this was an exceptionally odd way to start one, but Clive had never made any claims to eloquence. Besides, he was so thrown off by Jill's sudden arrival that he wasn't able to resist asking about it, albeit indirectly.
Cid shot him an odd look. "A couple of customers, a couple more orders. Same as usual. Why do you ask?" he questioned suspiciously.
"Just curious," Clive replied, but he let himself relax. Cid hadn't brought up any complaints made against him and hadn't immediately fired him. If anything was going to happen, then at least it wouldn't happen today. That didn't mean that he wouldn't worry about it, but at least he could save the worst of the worrying for another day. "That was my last delivery for the day, right? Do you need anything else before I head home?" he asked.
"Not quite," Cid replied, and pushed back from the counter. "We actually had a last-minute order come in. I need to step into the back and finish it up. Will you stick around and run it over once it's done?"
"Of course," Clive said automatically, even as his heart seized in his chest. It was Monday afternoon - the same time when Jill would normally put her order in. She couldn't have...?
"Excellent," Cid said. He turned and headed towards the back, calling over his shoulder, "I shouldn't be long. Just give me a moment."
Cid couldn't have been gone for more than a few minutes, but he might as well have disappeared for hours. Clive stood still in the center of the shop, counting his inhales and exhales in an effort to control his anxiety. It couldn't be Jill that put in the order, it couldn't . She had already made her rejection quite clear - she wouldn't have wanted him to return with more flowers. Besides, she had just been here a few minutes before. If she had put in an order, she could have just stuck around and picked it up herself, especially if it wouldn't take long to put together as Cid had said.
After what felt like an eternity, Cid emerged from the back room, a vase of flowers in his arms. The bouquet was beautiful - a combination of red roses, purple violets, and white snow daisies. The color choice was lovely. It would have reminded him of Jill's good taste if he hadn't already convinced himself that the order couldn't be hers.
"Here we go," Cid said cheerily, oblivious to Clive's internal conflict as he set the vase on the countertop. He set the information with the delivery address next to it. "After you've dropped this one off you'll be done for the day. Thanks for sticking around, lad."
With great trepidation, Clive approached the vase, eyeing the flowers like they were about to come to life and take a bite out of him. He warily took the card and checked where the bouquet was going.
The address wasn't hers. Against his will, Clive's shoulders slumped. Of course the order wasn't hers. She didn't want to see him again. There was no reason for her to order flowers delivered to her again. Still, he found himself overwhelmed by disappointment. He knew that he shouldn't be, but despite being rejected, some part of him still craved her. He suspected that it would always be that way.
Clive was so crestfallen that it took him a moment to realize that, though the address wasn't hers, there was something else strange about it. He was nearly out the door before it struck him. He glanced down at the delivery address again, a frown creasing over his features as he re-read it.
"Cid," he called back, turning towards the countertop once again, "This can't be right."
"It isn't?" Cid asked, far too innocently to be genuine. "I can double-check, but I'm almost certain it's correct." His tone was sing-song, mischievous, like he was in on some grand secret that Clive didn't know about. Clive narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he handed the delivery card back to him. Cid made a show of pulling up the order information to take another look at the address. "Yes, this is the right address. See?" He even turned and showed the computer screen to Clive so he could see the words typed into the form.
"You might want to call the client and confirm," Clive told him. "I can't believe they meant for the flowers to be delivered here."
"And why's that?"
"Because this is my address."
"Is it?" Cid asked, and now Clive knew he was playing at naiveté by the way he was grinning at him. "Well, the address is correct. Perhaps you have a secret admirer ."
Clive froze at the term. "A secret admirer?" he repeated blankly.
"Mm-hm," Cid hummed. "Very romantic and all that. Now, why don't you head home? No need to stick around if the flowers are going to the same place you are. Oh, and make sure you check the greeting card - your suitor left you a message, too."
"A message?" he echoed.
"Check the flowers when you get home," Cid said with a nod towards the vase in his hands. Then, he gave him a playful wink. "And good luck."
Clive did not wait until he got home to check the message. Instead, he took them out to his car and buckled the vase into his passenger side seat before shuffling through the blooms, too curious to resist peeking. Who would bother to send him flowers? Something about Cid's phrasing had lit the tiniest spark of optimism in him, though he didn't want to fan it. It felt like too much to hope.
After a moment of searching, he found the card nestled between a pair of roses. He removed it from the metal stand with great care. On one side was his own name, written in elegant text, but not one quite so complicated and decorative as Cid's. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place from where. Instead, he flipped it over to read the message that had been sent to him.
Clive's heart nearly stopped when he read the words.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'd like to go
To dinner with you
I miss you. Please call me? 622-555-2023
Jill
He stared down at the message uncomprehending for a long time, understanding the words individually but not really being able to absorb their meaning. Jill had sent him the flowers. Jill. Was that why she had stopped by the shop? To order flowers for him? Had she, perhaps, been looking for him, and gone to the shop to find him?
Clive tried to shake off the notion. She had already sent him on his way with a rather clear rejection the last time they had spoken. Why would she want to see him after he had offended her so? Despite his best efforts, doubts were beginning to creep in. Had she rejected him? He had tried not to think of that day over the past couple of weeks, the pain still too fresh, but now he returned to that afternoon, turning over their conversation in his mind, replaying it moment by moment.
Had she truly been upset with him, or had she been seeking the truth, and he had interpreted her determination as anger? Suddenly, he wasn't so sure. At the time, it had seemed obvious that she had seemed angry with him, her tone accusatory rather than imploring. Now, looking back, he wondered if he had allowed his anxiety, his guilt over the whole situation, to color his perception of that afternoon.
But that was almost worse than if she had simply rejected him. It would mean that she had given him an opportunity, a chance to know her outside of his great lie, and he had reacted in fear and thrown it back into her face. It would be easier to accept that she had rebuffed him than to know that he had ruined things twice over.
He didn't know what the truth was, but he did know one thing - he would never know for sure unless he reached out to the number she had provided. He recognized it from the delivery phone, practically had it engraved upon his heart from the number of times he had messaged it to let her know he was on his way with her order. He had been tempted to call her that dreary, stormy week when he had thought something had happened to her, but knew he couldn't when reaching out to her would have been tantamount to stealing her number from work. Now that she had given it to him freely, he was under no such limitations.
He sat in his car, staring down at his phone in his hands. Part of him wanted to drop everything and call her immediately, just to be able to hear her voice again, but a much larger part of him hesitated. What was he supposed to say to her? He didn't even know if he had frightened her off or if he had overreacted and then frightened her off. Which was he supposed to apologize for?
Instead, he set his phone down in the cup holder and turned on the ignition. He'd think about it on the way home.
But the drive did little to settle his nerves to help him formulate a response. He was still drawing a blank by the time he was safely back in his apartment and saying hello to Torgal.
It was only after he had taken Torgal out for his afternoon walk that Clive finally sat down on the couch, his dog curled up at his side and his phone in his hands. He decided on texting her, too amped up for a phone call, too afraid that if he heard her voice right now he'd never find his own. He typed slowly, second-guessing himself the whole time, wondering if he could have misinterpreted her flowers and her meaning somehow.
The sight of the flowers sitting on the countertop spurred him on. She had the courage to go to his work, to order a beautiful bouquet of flowers just for him. He could be brave enough to send a text message. He could even send her a picture of the flowers, sitting in the kitchen, brightening up his dreary apartment.
Even so, his hand shook as he finally pressed the "send" button.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:14pm]
I received your flowers. They're lovely, thank you.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:14pm]
{img_attch: 20240116-30682.png}
He almost jumped when he saw the three little dots pop up almost immediately after he had sent his message. Had she been waiting for him to message her, lingering by her phone as she hoped he'd call? He would have been plenty nervous if he had sent flowers to someone, but Jill always seemed so assured. He hoped she hadn't been waiting too long for him to reach out to her. Suddenly, he felt guilty all over again for making her wait while he debated on a response.
It didn't take long for her to respond.
[Jill Warrick - 6:15pm]
i'm glad you got them!!!! do you like them?
[Clive Rosfield - 6:16pm]
I love them.
He paused for a long moment before slowly typing in his next words.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:18pm]
I'm sorry again. For everything. I understand if you're upset at me.
She didn't leave him in suspense, for her reply came back almost immediately.
[Jill Warrick - 6:19pm]
i'm not upset with you.
He frowned down at his phone, trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind her words. She had to be upset with him, either because he had lied to her or because he had fled when she confronted him. He couldn't imagine a world in which she was okay with what he had done.
Another text message came in before he had the chance to formulate a reply.
[Jill Warrick - 6:19pm]
but i do feel bad for hurting you
[Jill Warrick - 6:19pm]
so will you let me apologize and make it up to you?
Clive's brow furrowed. She thought she had hurt him? When had she hurt him? He couldn't think of anything she had done to upset him, beyond rightfully calling him out when the truth became apparent, and it hadn't been her fault he had been hurt. It had been his own foolishness that had led to his pain, not anything that she had said or done.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:23pm]
I'm not hurt, but I am a little confused about why you think I am. Why do you need to apologize?
[Jill Warrick - 6:25pm]
can i call you?
Clive stared down at her text message. She had asked him to call her when she had given him his number, but the thought of speaking to her was overwhelming. Writing was easier - even if what they were talking about was personal, it allowed him time to think and calm himself between messages. If they spoke, Clive was afraid that he'd just put his foot in his mouth and ruin everything all over again.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:27pm]
I don't know if that's a good idea.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:27pm]
I'm not good at having conversations like this.
[Clive Rosfield - 6:28pm]
I don't want to say the wrong thing and hurt you.
It was the closest he had ever gotten to talking about his difficulties socializing with anyone. He held his breath as she started to type again.
[Jill Warrick - 6:29pm]
that's okay. neither am i.
[Jill Warrick - 6:29pm]
can i still call you? you don't have to say anything back, but i want to be able to verbalize my apology.
That did sound appealing. He still felt a little awkward about having her call him, only for him not to respond, but she had been the one to suggest it. She wouldn't have offered if she wasn't okay with it...would she?
He didn't know. What he did know was that he wanted to hear her voice again. If he didn't have to worry about responding afterwards, then maybe it would be okay. He hesitantly typed out a confirmation to her.
It wasn't long before his phone began to vibrate in his hands. He didn't even wait for the first ring to end before he was swiping the "Answer" button and holding it to his ear.
"Hi," Jill breathed through the speaker. There was something intimate about her speaking directly into his ear, like the sound of her voice was meant only for him. The thought of it sent a warm prickle up his spine.
"Hey," he whispered back, even though he wasn't supposed to be speaking.
"It's good to hear from you again," Jill murmured, before clearing her throat. "But I won't make you speak, I promise, so just hear me out and then we can go back to texting. Or not, if you decide you don't want to hear from me again afterwards. But I hope you will."
He couldn't imagine what she could say that would make him not want to speak to her anymore, but he didn't tell her that. She had wanted him to hear her out, so he'd say quiet and listen.
She must have taken his silence as confirmation, because she took a deep breath before coming on. "I wanted the chance to apologize for the way I acted when we last saw each other. See, I've known for a long time that you were my 'secret admirer' - more or less since you started bringing me the snow daisies. I wasn't upset at all when you showed up at my door with them. It meant I got the chance to talk to you again, and I liked being around you. I like you . I thought of it like some grand game - that we'd get the chance to meet and talk and flirt, until one of us finally gave in and asked the other out. I wanted it all to be in good fun. Eventually, I thought you would figure out that I already knew, and then we'd both have a laugh about the whole thing. I never suspected that you were worried about it all this time, that you thought that you had done something I wouldn't like."
"And then came the day when you kissed me under the mistletoe at my Starlight Celebration party," she continued on. "My friends had picked up that there was someone in my life that I was interested in before this - trust me, the teasing from Tarja was never ending . And then, when you were there, they started to put everything together, and they - without telling me - decided to give us a little push in the right direction with the mistletoe. I was angry at them at first, but when you kissed me...it was like nothing I had ever felt before. And I realized that I didn't want to play games anymore. I didn't care about winning and losing, I just wanted you ."
She heaved a great sigh before speaking again. "So, when we spoke last, I resolved to shoot my shot. I had thought that by that point, you were in on the game. So I did tease you a little bit, but only because I thought you already knew. Instead, I left you in limbo. I thought we were bantering, because I thought you already knew how much I liked you, but it must have sounded like I was accusing you of something awful and chased you away. I never wanted to hurt you - but even if it wasn't my intention, it doesn't change the fact that I did . So I wanted to apologize for upsetting you. I hope the flowers helped to make it up to you, at least a little bit."
As she spoke, Clive struggled to take in her speech - particularly the part about her liking him. It was like the first rain in the desert after a long drought - her words soothed him, but the parched earth of his soul struggled to truly absorb it. He had spent so long thinking that she was angry at him, that she had only been nice to him to be polite, that he had trouble reconciling his perception of what had been happening between them with her own views on it. And the part about feeling like she needed to apologize, about how she thought she had hurt him, echoed his own apology to her from a couple weeks ago. He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to apologize, that the fault was his own, but he held his tongue. Was this what she had felt like when he had stumbled through his own confession?
She must have taken his silence as rejection, because she cleared her throat. "Um, anyways. That's all I wanted to say. That, and that I was being honest when I told you how happy I was to see you, that first time you returned to my doorstep with those snow daisies - that, and every time you returned after that. I'm sorry if I ruined things, but...I just wanted to hear your voice again, and tell you I was sorry. If you want to go back to texting now, we can. Or, uh, if you didn't want to speak to me again after this, I understand."
He heard her shuffle, as if to hang up the phone, and finally, his leaden tongue moved. "Wait," he said hoarsely, half expecting the piercing tone of the line disconnecting and his last chance to hear her voice disappearing with it. "Wait," he whispered again, and thankfully, he heard movement on the other line again as Jill held the phone back up to her ear. "There's one thing I don't understand," he said. He was still grappling with her words, trying to take everything in and accept it. There was some part of him that was still worried that she was just saying these things to be polite. "You say that you liked talking with me, that you were happy to see me. If that's true, then why did you stop ordering flowers? Why didn't you reach out after that? If you had, then I wouldn't have had to come by with the snow daisies and make up a reason to see you."
Jill was silent for a moment. "Honestly?" she said slowly. "I thought you didn't like me. Before that, I thought you might have been interested, but I wasn't sure. I felt I was getting mixed signals from you. Sometimes, you seemed like you liked me back. You'd flirt and banter with me, and you went out of your way to talk to me when you didn't need to. You did it even when it kept you at work longer when I'm sure all you wanted to do was get home. Then, you'd pull away so suddenly, go all cold and distant and just…shut down. I was getting a little bit of whiplash with it, to be honest."
"The night of the storm, I thought I had it all figured out. You brought me food from your favorite restaurant, you went out of your way and spent your own hard-earned money on me. You were so thoughtful and sweet towards me when I was having such an awful day - it was beyond what anyone would have done just for a client, so I thought you must have been interested, so I pushed you a little harder than I normally would have, because I was hoping you'd finally make a move, or I'd be able to create an opportunity to ask you out. And then you almost kissed me, and I was in heaven - up until the very moment you pulled away and ran, and I thought that I had misread the whole situation terribly . I didn't want to reach out and make you any more uncomfortable than I had already made you."
"You didn't make me uncomfortable," Clive replied, and swallowed thickly. "That night...I wanted to kiss you so badly . But I thought you weren't interested. I thought I had crossed a line."
"You didn't," Jill murmured. "I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss me." Somehow, he doubted that. He couldn't imagine the strength of her passion matching the fire of his own. He felt like his feelings for her threatened to overwhelm him at times, and he feared that if he let them flow freely that they'd drown him and her along with it.
Jill wasn't done speaking. "So...what do you think? Do you accept my apology, or are you still upset at me? It's fine if you are, I will understand."
"I'm not upset at you," he said immediately, because it was true. He was more upset with himself. "I'm not mad at you at all, you don't need to apologize. I just...wish I hadn't wasted so much time worrying." She had been interested this whole time, but he had spent months fretting about his own actions when he could have been spending time with her without any pretenses between them.
However, it did bring up a whole new question - one that she had answered several times over by now, but that he still wanted confirmation for. He needed to hear her say it or he would doubt it every day for the rest of his life. "Are you upset with me for what I did?" he asked.
"No," Jill replied with as little hesitation as he had. "When you showed up with those snow daisies, I was so flattered and so excited to see you again. I wasn't uncomfortable at all. I just wanted to spend time with you."
He let out a shaky exhale. "You can't really want that."
"Want what?"
"To spend time with me."
"Of course I do."
"You don't," he insisted. "Not if you knew the real me. It...it might be better for us to stop talking here. Maybe it's better this way." Saying the words cut him deeply, but he knew them to be the truth. If they kept meeting up, if he accepted her invitation to dinner, he would only end up hurting her, just like he had with his own emotional overreaction on the day she told him she knew he was her secret admirer.
She was silent for a moment, long enough that he worried that she had simply hung up. Then, she finally asked, "Is that really what you want?"
"No!" he insisted, perhaps more loudly than a phone call warranted. "No," he repeated, quieter this time, "It's not that. I very much want to see you again. I want nothing more. But if we keep meeting, then you're going to find out the truth about me, and I don't think you'll like what you see. I'll only end up hurting you again. I won't be able to help it. I don't want to hurt you - and though I don't like it, if the price of that is never seeing you again, then I will gladly pay it."
"What truth?" Jill pressed gently. "What is there that you think I won't like?"
He didn't know if he could tell her. He knew if he told her everything, then she would be driven away and he would never hear from her again. But wasn't it better to do it now, to nip this in the bud before he really hurt her?
"That I'm not a very likable person at all," he blurted out before his courage could desert him. "And that if we were...together, you would see all of it . You would see how I struggle with talking to people - I can't even maintain the simplest conversation with a stranger. It takes a monumental effort to walk into a restaurant and order food - I've wasted an enormous amount of money having meals delivered to my door because it means that I won't have to figure out how to talk to anyone. My work at Cid's is the longest I've held down a job in years, and it's only because he took pity on me when I was hungry on the streets that I've managed to hold onto it this long. I can't help it, I just...clam up, and everyone thinks I'm frightening because I can't even figure out how to string together a sentence. Even worse, I second-guess myself. I worry, I catastrophize, I can find the worst in every single situation, and when I go into things expecting the worst, it's like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I make it happen even if I don't want it to, but I just can't stop ."
"It's ruined so much of my life - professional, social, emotional, familial, you name it - to the point where I don't think it can ever be rebuilt. If you chose to be with me, you'd be subjected to everything that came with it, and eventually you'd be dragged down, too. I don't want that for you. I don't want that for anyone . I'd rather hurt you here and cut you off now than to watch you waste your life with me. I'm still not sure how you came to like me - I'm not clever, or charming, or confident. I'm not much of anything. Maybe I deceived you in some way, I don't know, but once all the deception is peeled away and you see me for what I really am, what is there left to like?"
He had to choke back a sob at the end of it, because there were actual tears running down his cheeks. He pulled the phone away from his face to sniffle so she wouldn't hear it. When he had settled slightly, he returned the phone to his ear. "So yes," he said shakily. "It's better to end this here, because as much as it hurts to let you go, I'd rather tell you this now so you know the truth than have you grow to despise me as you discover it for yourself."
And now she knew. She knew the ways he could self-sabotage himself, and the ways he would do the same to her without even trying. She knew the ugly truth about him and all the ways he could hurt himself and her. Clive braced himself for the rejection, knowing that it was coming. It already ripped through him without her having to say a word, but a sense of peace settled over him with the knowledge. At least now she would be free, and he could return to the baseline level of misery that was his life.
"Is that what you think?" Jill asked, her voice completely calm.
His head jerked up, and he pressed the phone back to his ear. He had half-expected her to just hang up on him - no need for a goodbye or a dismissal if she was never going to see him again anyways. "It's what I know," he replied hoarsely.
"Do I get a say in all this?" she asked.
His eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"
"Don't I get to decide what I can and can't handle?" she clarified. "You've told me all of this - all of the ways that you think you can hurt me or make my life worse. Don't I get to make the choice about what I want in my life, or are you going to make that decision for me?"
"No! No, I would never," he insisted. "I just don't want to hurt you."
"You might," Jill replied, and his heart fell, knowing that it would be the truth. " Or you could make me exceptionally, incandescently happy. Have you ever considered that a possibility?"
He hadn't. He couldn't imagine a future where he would make her life better just by being in it. All he could see was a world where she lit up his world, all while he dragged her down into the darkness. He didn't want to take when he didn't think he could give in return.
She took his silence as an answer. "I thought not," she said, sounding very satisfied with herself.
Clive found his voice again. "I don't think I could live with myself if I hurt you," he whispered.
"You might," Jill said. "Or you might not. Or maybe I'll be the one making you miserable. We won't know unless we try."
He laughed at that. "I doubt you could make me miserable."
"Oh, really?" she said, and her tone went deadly serious. "Then perhaps turnabout is fair play, because I can imagine a million ways that I could accidentally ruin your life. As you know, I'm anxious when there's bad weather out. I'm always going to worry when it rains or snows, probably to the point of annoying you enough to make you want to tear your hair out. I've lost work because of it, as well - because I refused to go out in the rain for fear of what might happen. It may be irrational, but it won't go away, no matter how hard I try. If I don't hear from you in a long time, even if the weather is good, I will start to worry. One might even say that I'd bother you to the point of nagging to check in on you."
"Any one of those things could be deal-breakers for anyone, and if they are for you, then I would not judge you. So what do you think, Clive? Do you think you can handle me? Or do you want to leave things here before I potentially hurt you? "
His mouth fell open at her declarations. He recognized what she was doing - pointing out her own flaws for him to comb over and giving him the decision to leave her before they could hurt him. Now that she was doing it, it seemed a little silly, even if he could tell by the tension in her words that talking about it was difficult. There was that undercurrent of fear that he might decide that it was too much for him to handle, that he would reject her out of hand. She was giving him the choice that he had tried to deny her.
She needn't have worried. Examining her words, he knew he'd be able to shoulder whatever she threw at him. It seemed a little foolish to be worrying about such things when she phrased it like that, but he struggled to view it the same light when it came to his own confession.
He'd try, though. For her.
"Yes," he confirmed. "I think I can handle it."
"Good," she breathed, some of the tension going out of her voice. "I think I can, too. So...what do you think, Clive? Do you want to give this a try?"
He didn't know. He was still worried about the future, about all the ways that he could ruin hers. But wasn't she right? Didn't she deserve a choice in her own future, especially now that he had laid everything out so clearly for her?
"I do," he said hesitantly, "but...I want to try to become better as we do. For you. I'm worried I might hurt you if I don't. I still think I will, but I want to try to become someone who won't."
"I understand," Jill said soothingly. "Then I'll do the same. I'll try to become someone better, too. We can do it together."
Together. He liked that. "Is there...anything I can do to help?" he asked. This felt like it should be a personal journey, and he didn't want to intrude on it, but she had specifically invited him to walk the path together with her. If he could help support her along the way, he wanted to make sure he did everything he could to help her.
Jill hummed as she thought. "I don't think I'll ever stop worrying during storms," she admitted, "but maybe you can give me assurances when the weather is bad. Like let me know when you're traveling, and when you arrive at your destination safely. And check in with me during the week, too, just so I know you're okay."
"And what if I annoy you with all of my checking in?"
"I promise that you won't," Jill laughed, but when he didn't respond, she tacked on, " but if you ever do, then I promise to be honest and tell you directly."
"All right," he agreed. It sounded simple enough - and it was more of an opportunity to talk to Jill.
"Then let me ask the same of you," she countered. "What can I do to help you? Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?"
Clive thought very seriously about her question. He had always dreamed of becoming a more confident person, but there didn't ever seem to be a clear road forward. Now that the time for a plan of action had come, he wasn't sure what to do.
In the end, he decided on focusing on becoming better within the context of their budding relationship. He'd worry about the rest later. He took inspiration from her earlier statement. "I'd like you to be honest about your feelings towards me," he finally said. "Good, bad, in between - just tell me directly. I want you to tell me if I'm making you happy, if I'm upsetting you, anything. Don't hold back. I might not like to hear if you're mad at me, but I think it's better than worrying and wondering what you're thinking about me. At least then I'll know where we're standing."
"Do you think this will help you stop worrying?"
"Probably not," he admitted. "But I'm going to try to work on trusting you to be honest about how you're feeling, and hopefully it'll help over time."
"All right. That seems easy enough," Jill said. "For the record, I'm delighted that you feel comfortable enough to be honest about this."
He couldn't help but huff out a chuckle. He couldn't imagine how talking about how anxious everything made him would delight her, but he had to try to take her at face value. He promised, and he trusted her to be genuine even if he didn't trust himself to believe it.
He wracked his brain as he tried to come up with anything else that might help him. "I don't do well with surprises or the unexpected," he finally said. "I don't know how knowing this will help you. Just...don't spring anything on me?"
Jill made a thoughtful noise. "Why don't we make a plan for next week?" she suggested. "That way you'll know what to expect. We can see how it goes, and if we find at the end of the week that it's not working, we can try something else."
A plan. Yes. He liked plans. If they had a plan in place, he'd probably still worry about things, but at least then he wouldn't have to worry about all the things he wasn't expecting, too. "What did you have in mind?"
"Why don't I text you when I wake up to say 'good morning', and you text me in the evening to say 'good night'?" she suggested. "Or more, if the weather is bad. We can have another phone call - maybe on Thursday? And we can just talk, like we used to when you'd deliver flowers to me. You can tell me about your week, and I'll tell you about mine, and we'll talk about our hobbies and interests and friends or family or work or whatever else comes to mind. And then, on Saturday, I'd like us to go on a date - if you're free."
A date. An actual date with Jill. The thought was euphoric, but also sent a spike of anxiety through him. "I can do Saturday," he said. "What do you want to do?"
"I think," she said contemplatively, "we do an afternoon date. We'll go to the park, and we'll walk and talk and hold hands and ignore everyone else there. There's a little shop nearby that sells coffee and pastries that I've been wanting to try for ages. We can stop by - I'll let you pick out what we'll get, and I'll order so you don't have to talk to anyone, and then we'll sit down on a park bench and eat."
It sounded perfect. There was still snow on the ground outside, and he liked the idea of her cuddling up next to him as they meandered slowly through the park. However, there was one thought that still left his mouth dry from both excitement and nerves. "And...what about after the date?" he asked.
Jill laughed, warm and liquid, but the sound wasn't mocking. "Eager, are we?" she asked. " After the date, we go back to one of our places and we watch some silly cooking show. We can both take bets on who we think is going to win, and whoever loses has to pay for the next date. I think we should take anything else off the table for now. Not that I don't like the thought of dragging you into bed with me, but I think there's a lot of room for the unexpected in that, so it might be best to wait until the both of us are more comfortable."
He wouldn't say he wasn't the tiniest bit disappointed, but it was overwhelmed by the all-encompassing feeling of relief. With sex there came a certain amount of unpredictability that would be unavoidable, and though he looked forward to the day that they would get there, knowing that it wasn't imminent took a weight off his shoulders. She was right - better to wait until he felt more settled in the newness of...whatever this was. Even better, she was already thinking about their next date, like she expected to like this one enough to want another one. The thought sent a thrill of euphoria through him.
"One more thing," Jill added on, and Clive's ears perked up at the new, flirtatious tone in her voice. "After the date, I want you to walk me to my doorstep, I want you to wish me good night, and then I want you to kiss me goodbye."
His breath caught in his throat. He had dreamed of kissing her ever since her Starlight Celebration party, and to know he would get the opportunity to do so again by the weekend was exhilarating and alarming all at the same time. "What if..." he hesitated. "What if the date goes poorly? What if you decide at the end that you don't want to kiss me?"
"Then I'll tell you, because I promised to be honest," Jill reminded him, and the tension went out of him. That was right. She had promised to tell him the truth about how she was feeling. Still, she made a thoughtful noise. "Maybe we need a code word, too," she mused. "Ah! I know. If I say the words 'secret admirer', then you'll know that I want you to kiss me. You don't have to if you don't want to, but then you'll know that I'm open to it if you decide to."
He laughed, both at the code word and at the ridiculous idea that he might ever not want to kiss her. "I think I can handle that," he told her.
"Good," Jill laughed with him. "So - what do you say? Saturday at two at the park downtown?"
Clive considered it carefully. He knew he was still going to worry - it was just in his nature, and he didn't think it would ever truly go away - but when she laid everything out like this, it made it all seem so simple. He was still worried about their potential future, that he might hurt her, but he found that he didn't dread the coming week, and he didn't feel compelled to pick apart every single little detail like he did with most things. Could he do the same for everything else? Take it piece by piece and break it all down into small, manageable portions, and build his life, brick by brick, stone by stone, into something worth living and sharing with Jill?
It couldn't be that simple - but by the Founder, he wanted to try, because for the first time in his life, he was looking forward to finding out.
Though she couldn't see it, he smiled against the speaker of the phone. "It's a date."
Clive arrived early at the park that Saturday. The weather had held, though it was still bitterly cold, nipping at his skin even through his thick winter coat and gloves. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders to fend off the chill, burying his nose into his woolen scarf to protect it. There was a thick blanket of snow covering the ground and clinging to the bare branches of the trees, though the main pathways had been cleared and the excess thrown into drifts lining the road. In the field to his left, a group of children were playing - some building a snowman, three having a snowball fight, and two screeching as they went down the slope on a sled. Their parents looked indulgently on from a nearby park bench.
Clive exhaled, his breath frosting the air as he looked up at the piercingly blue sky, trying to take in the weak winter sun. The last week had been wonderful - better than he could have imagined. He had been nervous the first couple of days, even knowing what to expect. He imagined that he would say the wrong thing, that he'd find a way to upset her again no matter how many times she assured him that he hadn't done so in the first place. Then, he imagined she'd eventually get tired of having to constantly reassure him, and that was how she would realize she wouldn't want to be with him. He fell asleep anxious for the first few nights, wondering if she would text him in the morning like she had said she would or if she would finally wake up and realize he wasn't worth the trouble.
But every time he woke up, he'd roll over and see the notification on his phone where she wished him good morning, oftentimes followed not long after with a picture of whatever flavorful creation she was having for breakfast. He'd wish her good morning back and ask how her day was going so far, if anything exciting was planned at her work, if she was doing anything that night. She'd ask him the same, would ask him if he worked that day, how the others at the shop were doing. Most mornings, she'd gently scold him for his breakfast, which usually consisted of coffee to go as he was walking out the door, and tell him she was going to have to make sure he ate better breakfasts if she had her way. The thought that she wanted to be around him in the mornings often enough to make sure he ate well caused the feeling that was growing in his heart to sink its roots just a little bit deeper.
They would text sporadically throughout the day. The topic always varied. Sometimes, they would talk about what was happening throughout the day. Clive would send her pictures of the bouquets he was delivering, of the places he traveled to for work, and she would tell him about the wonderful joke the new girl at work had told her at lunch. They'd talk about the weather, the traffic, whatever mischief Torgal had got into that day. Sometimes, the conversations would go deeper - he had told her that he had a brother who he had lost contact with, but missed dearly, and she told him a bit about the night her parents died. Then, they'd move back to lighter topics. And then, at the end of every night, he'd tell her that he was going to bed and wish her sweet dreams.
After a few days, he started to worry less. He was starting to suspect that it would never truly go away, but after a couple of mornings of waking up to a message from Jill, it was fading down into a dull roar - ever-present, but not overwhelming. Instead, he found that he was looking forward to going to bed at night, knowing that he'd wake up to a text from her, and rested easier because of it.
It wasn't always perfect. There had been hiccups along the way, but they both did the best they could to hold to their promises. There had been one afternoon where Jill had texted him and told him she was having a difficult day and that she wasn't feeling social, so she was going to take a break from texting. She assured him it didn't have anything to do with him, but instead something that had gone wrong at work, and that she just needed some time to stew in her bad mood and would text him in the morning. He still worried when he didn't hear from her, of course, but he had the assurance that she was well, that she wasn't mad at him, and that he would hear from her soon. It didn't make the anxiety completely disappear, but it did soothe him to know what was happening and to know when he'd hear from her again.
Overall, it had been an incredible week - the best he had experienced in a long time, at least when it came to Jill. He still found himself tongue-tied when around clients or strangers, and it frustrated him. He wished he could be better at that part - but part of him wondered if there was a way to help with that, too. He expressed his frustration to Cid one day. After Jill, the florist was one of the only people he found that he was halfway comfortable with. He didn't tell him the whole story, and hadn't even intended to let it slip, had only mentioned in passing that he wished he was better at talking to people. The comment had made Cid's head perk up, and he had asked Clive if he had ever tried talking to anyone about it.
One thing led to another, and then suddenly Cid was staying late with him at the flower shop, showing how to sign up with a counselor through the company health insurance. Clive had initially worried, because he wasn't sure how talking to a stranger was supposed to help him talk to other strangers, until Cid clicked a few more buttons on the healthcare website, bringing up a list of therapists that offered alternative care options. He had helped to sign him up for an appointment next week, taking place over live text chat with someone who specialized in social anxiety. The thought of the impending appointment still tied his stomach into knots, but it was to a level he thought he could manage. He had promised Jill he was going to try to be better, to become better, and he wanted to hold himself to it so she wouldn't be forced to support him all the time.
When it was over and the appointment was set, Cid set a hand on his shoulder and told him that he was going to be alright. Those simple words brought tears to Clive's eyes, and he clasped Cid into a hug as he tried to blink them away. Cid patted him on the back as he calmed down, and when Clive drew away, he thanked him for everything. Cid had been there for him during a difficult time, had supported him even when he was at his worst, and he would be eternally grateful to him.
And so Clive prepared to rebuild his life, step by step. He didn't expect it to be an easy road or a quick one, but it was one that he wanted to walk. For Jill - and for himself.
"Clive!" Jill's voice called to him through the chilly afternoon air, and the sight of her coming down the road to him nearly took his breath away. She was dressed as warmly as he was, in a thick coat and a knit cap and scarf wrapped twice around to keep her neck warm.
"Jill," he breathed. "I was worried you hadn't come." He was scared that the past week had just been a blissful dream, and that she'd leave him waiting here in the park. Instead, the sight of her filled him with warmth despite the chill in the air.
"Of course I came," she smiled. "I've been looking forward to our date all week."
"Me too," he replied. "I actually have something for you." He pulled the bouquet of snow daisies out from where they had been resting in the crook of his arm - a reminder of their time together. He was worried he would start to associate the snow daisies with how they had accidentally hurt each other. He didn't want that - they were beautiful flowers, and it would be sad if the sight of them was soured by a difficult memory. No - better to build a new one with them from here on out.
"For me?" she asked, and took the flowers from him. She buried her face into the bouquet and inhaled deeply, then looked up at him. There was something about the sight of her surrounded by flowers, about her deep gray eyes peeking up at him through the white blooms, that set his heart racing. It made him think of her with flowers weaved through her hair, dressed in white with a band of gold glinting on her finger to contrast with the green of the stems. Clive shook his head to dispel the image. Too early to think about such things - except perhaps in the privacy of his own home.
"Thank you. They're beautiful," she sighed. Then, her eyes turned wicked, the corners crinkling with mischief. "Are they from my secret admirer? " she asked cheekily.
"No," Clive chuckled. "They're just from me." She had stepped closer to him as he spoke, and he smiled down at her. She looked at him expectantly, and it took a moment for it to click. "Oh. Oh! " he realized, his eyes widening. " Already? "
"Mm-hm," she confirmed, beaming up at him as understanding washed over his features. "I've been thinking about it all week. For the past few months , actually. But only if you want to," she reminded him.
Only if he wanted to? Clive wanted to every minute of every day for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine wanting to refuse her.
But it was also only the beginning of their date - it felt like too soon to indulge themselves. On the other hand, perhaps it was better to revel in it now, just in case she changed her mind by the end of the date.
Clive stepped closer to her, until they were scant inches apart. One of his hands came up to tangle with her own fingers, the other slid up her arm to rest on her shoulder. Jill's eyelashes fluttered, and she leaned up towards him. He ducked his head a little bit...and then lifted her hand to press his lips tenderly to her knuckles over her gloves.
"There," he said, satisfied as he stepped back.
"Tease," Jill huffed, but she was smiling at him. She didn't release his hand as he moved away from her, instead twining their fingers together and cuddling up against his side. "Do you want to take a lap of the park first?" she asked. "Or stop by a coffee shop and get something warm to drink?"
He wanted to kiss her again. He should have just taken the opportunity when he had the chance. Thankfully, he had a way to correct that, an opportunity to ask for permission. They had set it up during their phone call, after all. "I'm happy to do whatever my secret admirer wants." He turned back to her, waiting for her response with a raised eyebrow.
"Whatever your secret admirer wants, hm?" she asked, turning to face him fully. "I can think of a lot of things that she wants." Jill grabbed the collar of his coat brazenly and yanked him to bend down a couple of inches to her level. Clive's eyes slid shut and he tilted his head slightly as he waited for her kiss.
But it didn't come - at least, not in the way that he expected. Instead of her lips falling against his, Jill's mouth pressed gently to the corner of his. She let it linger for just a moment before drawing back slowly.
His eyes fluttered open once more as he returned to his full height, grinning foolishly down at her. Even if it wasn't the kiss he had expected, her lips had left a warm imprint upon his skin. "What was what?"
"A kiss," she said mischievously. "Turnabout is fair play, Clive. Now, come along. Your secret admirer wants a cup of coffee."
Clive laughed as Jill turned to drag him down the pathway, not giving him the chance to respond to her challenge. He'd have to find an opportunity to kiss her again somewhere on the path to the coffee shop - after all, she had given him permission. He had a feeling she'd be giving him permission quite often, and he knew he'd be doing the same for her. Suddenly, he found himself looking forward to this - not just the dates, but the texts and the phone calls and even the occasional fight, because he knew they could find a way to make up. Where once, he suffered to live moment to moment, had struggled to envision the future as anything other than bleak and lonely, now he could see it laid out before him so clearly - bright, happy and, hopefully, loved.
He couldn't help but smile as he stumbled after Jill because, for the first time in a long time, he felt like everything was going to be okay.
Notes: