Petal Plucker

by Iris Morland

  And maybe if I were really, really lucky, he’d kiss me in the car before he dropped me off at home.

  Kate kept me company as I waited. At ten, she was pretty much a baby genius with an aptitude for taking things apart and putting them back together again. The only reason she still wanted dolls was because she liked to rearrange their limbs, so they had legs for arms and vice versa. She often figured out a way to take off their painted faces, or cut their hair until they were bald.

  By the time it was five o’clock, I sat on the edge of the couch, all anticipation. The minutes ticked by. I checked my phone: 5:10, 5:17. By 5:25, I thought about texting Jacob, but I didn’t want to seem like I was bugging him. He was probably just getting ready still. We weren’t meeting Anna and Sam at the restaurant until six-thirty, anyway.

  By 5:45, I was pacing the living room. My parents had both popped in to ask where Jacob was, my dad frowning deeply at Jacob’s lack of punctuality.

  “He’ll be here,” I kept saying. Mostly because I had to believe it for myself. I texted him, but no response. I texted him again, but silence. I felt nauseous. Had something happened to him? Worry knotted my gut.

  Finally tired of waiting, I decided to go to his house. Not caring that I was teetering in high heels, I walked to his house—all of three houses down—my brain imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios.

  That was when I saw Jacob walking out of his house with Tiffany, his supposed ex-girlfriend. I hid behind one of the tall hedges that stood in front of his house.

  I watched as Jacob opened the passenger door for Tiffany before climbing into the driver’s seat. Neither of them were wearing prom clothes. And in a blink, they drove away.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had just happened. After I got home and locked my bedroom door, I took out the dandelion wreath and the valentine I’d kept for so many years, hidden in a shoebox under my bed, and I tore them all up.

  And thus my love for Jacob died a swift death on that night almost a decade ago.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Dani, are you even listening to me?”

  The answer to that was definitely no, but I lied and said, “Yes.”

  Kate snorted. “You know those hearts that float above anime characters’ heads when they’re in love? That’s what you looked like. Plus some major heart eyes. I’d throw up but I paid six dollars for this latte and that would be a waste of perfectly good coffee.”

  After my encounter with Jacob, things had…shifted. Good shifted. Since we’d both come back to Seattle—and he’d given me his phone number after laughing at me for at least five minutes—we’d been texting each other nonstop. The only reason we hadn’t continued our sex escapade was because I’d had to create a bunch of arrangements at the last minute for an elopement, and Jacob had had all kinds of work-related things pop up, although he never alluded to what, exactly, they were.

  “I wasn’t making heart eyes,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about your one true love, Jacob?” At my surprise, Kate laughed. “I saw your phone when you went to the bathroom.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Getting hot and heavy, huh?”

  “Oh my God.” I groaned, putting my head in my hands. I did not need my younger sister razzing me. Not to mention I was pretty sure she was a virgin, too, so it wasn’t like she could act like she knew more than me on that front.

  “Hey, no judgment. I’ve always thought this whole rivalry was dumb. Plus, he’s hot. I saw him come out of their store and I was like, ‘Damn, Dani. Get that ass.’”

  “Please stop talking.”

  “I’m not the one getting dick pics at a coffee shop.”

  Jacob had sent me a dick pic? Frantic, I looked at my phone, only to find a fairly benign text waiting for me. Red roses or pink?

  “You little shit,” I grumbled as Kate laughed like a maniacal cartoon villain. “Jacob would never send me a dick pic, anyway.” Although even as I said the words, I was kind of disappointed, thinking that he wouldn’t. Even though I hadn’t gotten to look at his cock except what I had seen through his boxers, I knew he was packing.

  My pussy tingled. Memories flooded my brain, and along with them, memories of every sensation Jacob had stroked and rubbed out of me. I squeezed my thighs together and willed my body to calm down. Lately it was like a stiff breeze could set me off like some horny weirdo.

  “Like I said,” said Kate, “heart eyes.”

  “Did you ask me to coffee just to make fun of me? Because I’d rather pick snails out of the vegetable garden than sit through this.”

  Kate dipped her chin down, making her seem deceptively young and innocent. Well, she was young, but she wasn’t innocent. She’d been born evil, in the way that younger sisters were born to torment you. She had a sweet, heart-shaped face, her chin a bit pointy but endearing, nonetheless. With her wide brown eyes and long lashes, she could make puppy eyes with the best of them.

  Kate dressed like she’d rifled through a dumpster for her clothes, which tended to mask how pretty she was: oversized sweatshirts with various logos on them, torn-up jeans, and sneakers way past their expiration date consisted of her usual outfit. In the summer, she just swapped the jeans for jean shorts. She never left her hair down, but instead, either braided it or put it in a topknot at the crown of her head.

  The last time I’d seen her wear a dress had been when she was seven and had been a flower girl in a family friend’s wedding. She’d taken off the dress and put on jeans within five minutes of the wedding ending, to my mom’s dismay.

  “Spill it,” I said, pointing my coffee stirrer at her. “What did you do?”

  She widened her eyes further. “Me? Do something? I am innocent as a lamb, guiltless as Jesus Christ himself—”

  “And as full of shit as a bag of fertilizer.”

  “You would use fertilizer in a metaphor.”

  I raised an eyebrow and waited.

  Kate played with a straw wrapper, fidgeting in her chair. “Well, there’s this boy,” she hedged.

  “A boy you like?”

  A blush climbed up her cheeks. “Maybe.”

  I had no idea why she’d wanted to talk to me about boy problems instead of Mari, but I was too intrigued to tell her as much. I couldn’t remember Kate ever liking a boy. She’d always been one of the boys, in fact. I had a feeling those boys had lumped her in with them and Kate had never cared to change their opinions.

  “He’s in my chemistry class. He’s my lab partner, actually. We were in the same dorm freshman year, but then, when everyone moved into apartments, I didn’t see him. Until this class.”

  “What’s his name?”

  She put her hands over her red cheeks. “Grayson.”

  “Do you think he likes you, too?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the thing. He’s nice to me, but he had a girlfriend up until a month ago. She was the complete opposite of me.” Kate waved a hand down her body. “She wore pink and lip gloss. She carried a tote instead of a backpack. You know, those girls.”

  “Nothing wrong with wearing pink,” I pointed out.

  Now Kate looked annoyed. “Well, duh. It’s just that boys tend to like girls who are…girls.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I don’t know how to do that, you know?”

  “Not that I mind talking to you about this, but this seems like a conversation for Mari, not me. I’m not exactly glamorous.”

  “Mari is too caught up in her wedding, and then she’d want to give me a makeover as she talked about how David said this or did that.” Kate wrinkled her nose. “Last time I talked to Mari, she kept going on and on about how David finally decided to get a haircut even though his favorite barber retired so he had to find a new one. Apparently, it was a huge deal.”

  My lips twitched. “Fair point.”

  “Besides, you’ve been looking really pretty lately.”

  I hadn’
t thought anyone had noticed that I’d started wearing makeup and doing something with my standard brown hair beyond pulling it back in a ponytail. “Oh, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Kate paused. “So, what should I do?”

  I considered my answer, not wanting to give Kate bad advice. “I’m not exactly the best person to ask, you know. I’m not good at talking about how I feel. The last time I put myself out there for a guy, he stood me up for prom.”

  Kate winced. “Yeah, he was a shithead for that. Did he ever say why?”

  “He did, but I’ll tell you about that later.” I tapped my chin. “I think what you need to do is see if you can hang out with Grayson outside of school. See how he acts around you. Maybe do it in a group first, then go from there.”

  “Like ask him out on a date?”

  “It is the twenty-first century. That’s allowed.”

  Kate snorted. “Do you think I care about some stupid sexist convention?” She sighed. “It sounds terrifying. What if he says no?”

  “Then you’ll have your answer, at least.”

  “Should I put on mascara? Wear pink?” She wrinkled her nose. “No, that’s going way too far.”

  “Katie-cat, if he doesn’t like you for you, then changing yourself isn’t going to make a difference. That being said, maybe you want to wear some makeup. Ever thought about that?”

  “Maybe,” she grudgingly replied. “Will you help me?” she whispered, and if we weren’t in a crowded coffee shop, I would’ve hugged her and totally embarrassed her.

  As I walked home and Kate returned to her apartment on campus, I knew that I’d given her good advice, but I still felt like a hypocrite. When I’d been in her shoes, I always kept my feelings to myself because I assumed a boy like that wouldn’t be interested in me. Even though I demanded honesty in people, I realized that I hadn’t demanded it of myself, because I’d told myself that me not saying anything wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  Except, it had hurt me, in a subtler way. If I didn’t put myself out there, then I couldn’t get hurt, right? I’d held myself back in terms of relationships for a long time. Anna probably had a point: I did tend to pick the guys I subconsciously knew wouldn’t work out for me, which meant there was no risk.

  This whole thing with Jacob scared the bejeezus out of me. Part of me wanted to scuttle away and act like he’d never awakened this need inside of me—not just sexual, but that was a part of it. Feelings I’d long since repressed had surfaced with a speed that gave me whiplash.

  But how could I tell my little sister to be brave if I couldn’t be brave, too?

  I had just made up my mind when I walked past a French cafe that had amazing macarons. I stopped for a second, wondering if I should give in and buy some (the owner knew my name and my favorite flavors at this point), when I saw a familiar golden head at a table in the corner. And sitting across from Jacob was Tiffany McClain, her smile wide and beautiful.

  All that stuff I’d thought about her when she’d treated Kevin—that I’d forgiven her, that she was different—was a lie. A big, smelly lie. I hated her in that moment and I hated Jacob, too, and I knew that I’d convicted them both without a trial and I didn’t care.

  My stomach curdled. The thought of macarons made me want to die, which was probably the saddest thing ever. What did macarons do to get lumped in with this icky, viscous feeling of betrayal? Nothing.

  You don’t know anything’s happening, I told myself.

  I told myself that, except that evil little voice in my brain reminded me that Tiffany had been Jacob’s first love, and he’d stood me up for prom when she’d decided she’d wanted him back. What if this was just Part Two?

  I imagined going inside the cafe, buying a bunch of macarons, and pelting them at the gorgeous duo. It only made me feel marginally better.

  Jacob turned his head, and his gaze met mine. His eyes widened. I totally panicked, and I started running.

  Another thing I never do: run. Running is terrible. It was invented by Satan and pushed by people who hated themselves. To quote the best TV show of our time, Parks and Recreation, “Jogging is the worst. I mean, I know it keeps you healthy, but God, at what cost?”

  I didn’t get far before I heard Jacob yelling, “Dani! Stop!”

  He caught up with me within five seconds, damn him and his long legs. At this point I was wheezing like someone who smoked five packs a day. My breasts hurt. Running was not meant to happen when you had boobs bouncing around like I did.

  “Are you okay?” Jacob tried to take my arm, but I wouldn’t let him.

  “I’m.” Wheeze. “Fine.” Wheeze. “Go.” Wheeze. “Away.” Wheeze.

  “You look like you’re going to faint. Here, sit down.”

  I was too winded to resist him. I sat on a bench and, somehow, I found my head between my knees. I wondered if I would make this worse and puke all over Jacob’s shoes again. That would certainly add a nice cherry on top to this shit sundae.

  Once I finally caught my breath and the redness in my face had receded, I said, “What was that all about?”

  Jacob didn’t even flinch. He didn’t look guilty, even though he should feel very, very guilty. Except—we hadn’t said we were exclusive, had we? Oh God, why had I thought that? I should’ve known this was all too good to be true.

  Panic spiraled through me. The logical part of my brain kept telling me to calm down, but that part kept getting smaller. It was like a tiny pebble trying to stop an ocean wave from pulling it out to sea.

  “Why were you with Tiffany McClain?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you the reason?”

  I just glared at him, crossing my arms across my chest.

  “You were having dinner with her, and you looked like you were on a date. She had heart eyes,” I accused.

  Jacob’s lips twitched. “Heart eyes? Really?”

  “Yes. I would know.” Because I always have them around you. “Her body language screamed, DO ME, JACOB.”

  “You got all that from, what, ten seconds?”

  I sighed, hanging my head over the bench. “I know all about looking at somebody you want,” I said vaguely. “Believe me.”

  Jacob didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I waited for the inevitable blow. We aren’t exclusive. I never said I liked you. It was just a one-time thing. Tiffany wants to try again and I still love her.

  “If Tiffany was looking at me with heart eyes,” said Jacob finally, “then it would be pretty weird that she wanted to talk to me about a special arrangement for when she proposes to her girlfriend this weekend.”

  I was glad I was sitting down, because my world tilted on its axis right then. It took me a second to understand what Jacob had said, but when it clicked in my brain, I could only say, “Ooooooh.”

  Jacob smiled. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “I didn’t know she was gay. Or bi, since she dated you. Not that it’s my business.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I feel stupid.”

  Jacob just raised an eyebrow.

  “Really stupid?”

  “How about supremely stupid?” he said.

  I scowled. “Okay, I jumped to a dumb conclusion, but can you blame me? You guys have a history, and she’s…” I trailed off, looking away.

  Jacob touched my chin, forcing me to look at him again. “Dani, do you really think, after what happened between us, I’d dump you and go straight back to my high school ex-girlfriend, who I haven’t thought about in years, by the way?”

  I squirmed. “I’m sorry.”

  He stroked my jaw, and I leaned into his touch like a cat. I could feel a purr almost rumbling in my throat as he touched my ear, my cheek. “We were over a long time ago. And as far as I can tell, she’s in love with her girlfriend. She couldn’t stop talking about her.”

  “When did they start dating?” I said.

  “I didn’t ask.” His tone was wry.

  “Only because…” And here I started smiling like a crazy person. “I w
onder if you were the one who made her decide to join the other team.”

  Now it was Jacob’s turn to scowl. “If we weren’t in public, I’d turn you over my knee for that comment.”

  I shivered. Feeling bold, I kissed him and said, “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Oh, I plan to try lots of things with you.” He pulled my hair—gently—tilting my head back. “I’m coming over Friday night.”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  “Telling. Also, don’t wear any nice underwear.”

  I swallowed, my throat dry. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m going to shred it otherwise.” He kissed me, hard, then said, “I have to get back to Tiffany. She couldn’t decide if she wanted freesia or violets.”

  “You’re so hot when you talk flowers.”

  After he stood up, he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I’ll be even hotter when I’m inside you. Now go home before I make good and spank you right here on this bench, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I opened the door to my apartment Friday night, I expected Jacob.

  What I didn’t expect was Jacob wearing a tuxedo and with a corsage in his hand, a boutonniere pinned to his lapel.

  His expression serious, although I could see a smile at the edges of his mouth, he said, “Are you ready for prom?”

  I glanced down at my outfit: jean shorts and a V-neck shirt. At least I’d put on some makeup. “I don’t exactly have a prom dress hanging out in my closet,” I said. I’d gotten rid of the one I’d planned to wear the next day after Jacob had stood me up.

  Jacob stepped into my apartment. “That’s fine. We can have prom here.”

  He handed me the bouquet—an arrangement of pink roses and sunflowers—and then said, “Put out your hand.”

  He put the corsage on my wrist. This one also had pink roses. “Did you make this?”

  “I did. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” My heart felt like it was going to spill over. “I can’t believe you did this.”