by Kallysten
He looked up at Green Eyes’ face as he handed back the signed receipt, and was offered a wry smile.
“No problem. I guess we were overdue for the awkward morning after.”
Mike winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that, too. I figured it’d be easier if I just…” He shrugged, unsure how to finish.
“I see,” Green Eyes said as he pocketed the pen, and his smile seemed forced now. “Regrets came after you did, huh?”
“What?” Mike frowned in surprise. “No, I don’t regret…” He felt his blushing worsen when Green Eyes arched an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I don’t usually do that, that’s all.”
“Do what? Pick up guys for one night?” At Mike’s pained nod, Green Eyes gave him a sharp look. “And you think I do?”
“Well, you did take me home,” Mike pointed out.
“Yeah. And then you woke up and ran away. And then I woke up and felt like shit.”
The stab of guilt was unexpected, as was the realization that Green Eyes might have wanted Mike to be there when he woke up—and Mike had blown his chance by leaving without a word.
“Sorry?” he said again, and he was now starting to feel sorry for himself.
“You really weren’t kidding about the brooding, huh?” Green Eyes shook his head. “And it’s not like it’s just your fault. I didn’t tell you I cook a pretty mean breakfast. Or asked for your last name or phone number.”
Mike blinked, at a loss for words.
“But now I do know your name,” Green Eyes continued, a small, strangely hopeful grin lighting up his face. “And I know where you live. I even know when your birthday is. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“How did you…” Mike half turned to the vase, answering his own question. “The card.”
“Yeah.” Green Eyes seemed a bit sheepish now, and he looked at Mike from beneath lowered eyelashes as he said, “I assume Daisy isn’t your girlfriend?”
Mike shook his head, smiling. “No, just a friend. A really good friend.” And then, because he was afraid silence would be interpreted as a sign it was time to leave, he asked, “You made the bouquet?”
Green Eyes laughed, and it was the same laugh from the previous night, warm and thick. Threads of heat shot up Mike’s spine.
“I’m not that gay. It’s my mother’s shop. I just do deliveries after school and on weekends.”
Mike nodded absently, looking at the name of the shop again. He’d seen it before, three or four streets over, he thought, but he had never bought flowers there. He had a feeling he’d go there soon, if only to send Daisy a thank-you bouquet.
“You’re in college?” he asked.
Again, a short laugh echoed through the apartment. “I’m not that young, either. Teacher. Social studies.”
All Mike could think of saying was, “Cool.” He tried to think of something else to say, something clever, something that would make Green Eyes laugh again, but he was coming up empty.
“How about you?” Green Eyes asked instead. “What do you do?”
Mike almost breathed a sigh of relief. Just a little longer… “I’m in advertising,” he said. “It’s a small agency downtown, but we’ve got a few pretty big clients.”
Too late, he realized that he sounded as though he were bragging, which was not what he had meant to do. With an inward grimace, he waited for Green Eyes to call him on it. Instead, he just said, punctuating the words with a sincere smile, “That explains the pretty cool apartment.”
Mike ran an embarrassed hand through his hair. “Thanks,” he said, grinning. “The best part is the shower. The jets are to die for.”
Green Eyes’ smile deepened, turning almost lascivious. “Wish I could see that,” he said, and Mike realized, again too late, that his words, this time, had all but sounded like an invitation. This was why he didn’t go out and try to date, he thought, mortified. He sucked at making small talk.
“Listen, I’ve got a truck full of roses to deliver. I really should go.”
Mike bit back a disappointed sigh. “Yeah. Valentine’s Day. I bet you’ve got a lot of business today.”
Involuntary boasting, accidental innuendo, and now pathetic triteness. Mike felt like hiding under the sheets and not coming out again until he had learned the art of conversation.
He accompanied Green Eyes to the door, and they exchanged simple goodbyes. When the door had closed on him, Mike pressed his forehead to the wood and banged against it lightly. He was an idiot, a complete and utter idiot. Why couldn’t he have said something witty, or funny, something that would have let Green Eyes know he was beginning to like him, and wouldn’t mind going out with him again? If nothing else, he could have given him his phone number; Green Eyes had all but asked for it, after all. Or he could have gone for even more basic than that and asked for his name.
He was still calling himself every insulting epithet he knew when two sharp knocks on the door startled him. He pulled away and tugged the door open, blinking in confusion when he saw Green Eyes standing on the threshold.
“I want to sleep with you,” he said before Mike could ask if he had forgotten something. His eyes were sparkling when he added, “Again.”
Mike laughed weakly, recognizing the worst pick up line he had ever come up with—although it had worked, so maybe it wasn’t that bad.
“But maybe we could…” Green Eyes shrugged. “I don’t know, have dinner first? Go to a movie or something? I’m sure you’ve got plans for your birthday but maybe—”
“No,” Mike cut in quickly. “I mean, I don’t have plans. And yes, I’d like that. Dinner, movie, something.” He stopped himself before he could add, “Anything,” but judging by Green Eyes’ smile, he had heard it quite well.
“I’ll pick you up at eight, then, and we’ll figure it out?”
Mike struggled for a few seconds not to beam at him—then gave up, and just smiled for all he was worth. “That’d be great. Eight. I’ll be ready.”
“Cool.”
Another round of goodbyes, warmer this time, and Green Eyes was about to walk away again. Mike reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Hey, wait. I don’t even know your name.”
Green Eyes turned back to him, and offered him his hand to shake. “I’m Peter.”
* * * *
“So how long does it take anyway?” Cathleen asked, drawing everyone’s attention. Her fingers were tapping a fast beat on her knee, and she seemed to become more anxious as time passed. “It took less time for Joan than it did for Lydia, didn't it?”
Her eyes turned to Joan as she said so, but when Joan failed to reply, Daisy simply said, “I’m not sure. It seems to vary.”
Cathleen didn’t seem satisfied by that answer, and she craned her neck to look toward the balcony—not that she would be able to see anything from where she sat. It seemed that her nerves were starting to get the best of her.
“How long can it take to make a decision, really?” She turned back to the group and wet her lips from her glass of juice. “That’s what he said it was, right? The decision that will change our lives?”
Daisy nodded, but even as she did, her eyes flitted toward Joan. She was the only one present who had experienced the vision already. Joan’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands defensively in front of her.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not telling you what I saw.”
“How about…did you see anything more than the decision?” Cathleen leaned forward toward her. “I mean, I’m not asking what you saw, just… Was it more than the actual decision?”
Seconds passed in perfect silence as they all waited for Joan’s reply. In the end, she let out a quiet little sigh and said, “A bit more, yes. And that’s all I’m saying.” She was blushing lightly as she finished, and when she looked up at Brad, a wide grin split her face. They shared another kiss.
Just as she reached the window, she could see Woods leaning back in his chair, while across from him Mike’s eyes were fluttering open. She pulled the window open, just in time to hear Mike whisper, “Peter.”
Daisy froze, unsure whether Mike’s request for privacy still stood.
“What if I forget?” Mike leaned forward and clutched Woods’ arm almost feverishly. “What if I forget his name?”
Woods patted his hand gently. “Speaking from experience, you probably will.”
Mike’s expression turned frantic, and he started to protest, but Woods talked over him, almost soothingly.
“You will,” he said again. “The more you think about it, the more you’ll forget, and you won’t be able to stop yourself from thinking about it. But that’s all right. When you see him, you’ll know.”
Mike just stared at him for a while before nodding and finally letting go of his arm. He began to sit back in the chair but turned his head toward the window and noticed Daisy standing there. As soon as he saw her, he jumped to his feet and rushed to her. He grabbed her shoulders with both hands, and even through the material of her shawl she could tell that his hands were shaking.
“Daisy! Listen carefully,” he said very fast. “This is really important.”
“What is it?” she started. “Are you—”
But before she could finish, he said, still talking as though he was running out of time, “On my next birthday I need you to send me flowers.”
She let out a startled bark of laughter. “What?”
“Flowers,” he repeated. “Tulips. Red. Have them delivered to my apartment. Can you do that for me?”
His tone and eyes were practically begging her now, and her amusement faded at how important this seemed to be.
“I… Of course. Sure, I’ll send you flowers. But why—”
His grip tightened a little more, and the anxious glint in his eyes only accentuated. “Promise me you won’t forget. Please, promise.”
She patted his hand gingerly and tried to give him a comforting smile. “I won’t forget, I promise. I’ll send you tulips on your birthday.” And because the tension was too high, she added, now playful, “If you’d said to send you roses I might have started wondering if you really are gay.”
Mike laughed. “I am, believe me.” He laughed again, and this time his face flushed all the way down his neck and he pulled at his tie, loosening it a little. “I think I need a drink.”
Turning to Woods, he held out his hand for him to shake; it was still trembling a little. “Thanks,” he said very seriously.
Woods nodded as he shook his hand. “No problem.” A small smile touched his lips. “And good luck.”
A matching smile bloomed on Mike’s lips as he walked away. Daisy watched him head back inside, yet again wondering what the vision had been like. When she looked back at Woods, he was leaning against the railing once more. He must really have liked the view.
“So he wasn’t the one for you?” she teased, as she stood next to him.
Woods chuckled quietly. “He really wasn’t, no.”
Daisy couldn’t help but wonder how graphic the vision had been this time. Some visions had to be uncomfortable for Woods to watch. Did he have any way of blocking the visions he didn’t want to see? She hoped for his sanity that he could do that. She still couldn’t fathom why he’d want to subject himself to that, even after he had explained. She shook her head to brush the thought away.
“He’ll be happy, though,” she said, certainty coloring her words. “Won’t—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted her sharply. When she turned a wounded look at him, he sighed. “I told you,” he said, his tone milder now. “I don’t discuss other people’s visions.”
She pouted at him. “You told me about Joan’s.”
“And I shouldn’t have.” He sounded uncomfortable now. “Even the little I said was too much. It didn’t concern you.”
“But this concerns me,” she pointed out. “What Mike just asked me… The tulips? It’s something he saw, isn’t it?”
Tulips on his birthday… It was just a month and half away. Had his vision taken place then? Would he find the love of his life that day?
“Come on,” she insisted when Woods didn’t reply. “You can tell me that at least.”
“Why should I?” Woods sounded tired suddenly, like this was an argument he had had many times before. “He didn’t explain. If he wanted you to know, he’d have told you.”
Daisy turned her entire body toward him, one hand fisted in her shawl, the other pointing at him warningly. “They’re my friends,” she said coldly. “I’ve known all of them for at least ten years. Some since we were kids.”
Woods looked at her pointed finger and made a move as though to push it away. Daisy drew back before he could.
“And that gives you a right to know their future?” he asked, frowning.
“No, it gives me a right to worry about them. And you…” She shook her head. “You barely even know their names. What right do you have to know about their futures? To see their most intimate moments?”
And that was what bothered her most, she realized. She hadn’t told her friends after she had figured it out, and now she wished she had. She also knew she wouldn’t tell them; she doubted it would change the mind of those who hadn’t had a vision yet, and all it would do was embarrass the others.
“I never claimed to have a right to it,” Woods said, tiredness once again dulling his words. He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked back at the ocean. “I never even wanted it. If I could stop right here, right now, and never have another vision again…”
His voice trailed off into wistfulness. Daisy’s protest died on her lips, and she observed him with surprise. She had thought he enjoyed doing this; he certainly seemed enthusiastic enough whenever he talked about it. She wasn’t so sure anymore now.
“Wouldn’t you miss it?” she asked more calmly.
Woods cocked his head toward her. “Would I miss knowing that whatever woman I’m interested in will end up with someone else?” He shook his head just once. “No. I really wouldn’t.”
It all finally clicked together. Why Woods was doing this. Why he didn’t seem to enjoy it all that much. Why he sounded so tired. Why he had been there at Helen’s wedding but had stayed away from her all evening as far as Daisy knew.
“That’s what happened with my sister, isn’t it?” she asked very quietly. “You were interested in her, and then you knew she wasn’t for you.”
“Yeah. We went on a couple of dates. And then we kissed. And then we were friends, but nothing more than friends.” His quiet laugh was almost painful. “That’s pretty much what happens with every one of my relationships.”
That brought an incredulous look from Daisy. Eyes wide and eyebrow raised, she gave him a challenging look. “You’re telling me you’ve never done anything more than kiss a woman?”
He answered with an impish smile. “Some of my girlfriends were grateful. Some of them talked so much about what they saw that they forgot it pretty fast.”
“But you didn’t.”
He shook his head, his grin turning bitter enough that Daisy suddenly felt like having a drink to wash away the taste clinging to her tongue.
“I never do, no,” he murmured.
Daisy wanted to pat his shoulder. The impulse surprised her, and she had some trouble resisting it. Instead, she clutched her shawl closer and gave him the warmest smile she could muster. “I hope you’ll see yourself someday,” she said softly. “It would be very unfair if you didn’t.”
Fi
fth Vision of Destiny – Brett
When Daisy first met Sam Woods, she had believed he was a charlatan who preyed on lonely people by pretending he could show them the love of their life. Later, she started to wonder if maybe he was genuine, but offered meaningless visions to his clients. However, after watching four of her friends go to him, she couldn’t doubt anymore. They had seen something, all of them, something that had touched them, excited them, maybe even scared them a little. Something that would change their lives.
What bothered Daisy now was that, with each new vision, the spark in Woods’ eyes seemed to dull a little more. He had never seen his own future, he had said. He had showed hundreds, thousands of people who they were destined to be with, but he had never seen his own future partner. How could he bear to continue doing this, watching others find happiness when he remained alone?
Still troubled by what Woods had just told her, Daisy left the balcony. Shaking her head, she returned to the dining room where her friends waited. Two of them had gone to Woods already, in addition to her friends who had already left, and four more remained. Nothing forced Woods to go through with this, and if he wanted to torture himself, who was Daisy to stop him?
“So who’s next?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over her friends and stopping on Cathleen. “You said you wanted to go?”
Before Daisy had left the dining room to check on Mike, Cathleen had been anxious to take her turn, and she had been commenting on how long it was taking Mike to get his vision. Now though, Cathleen’s lips curled in a teasing smile as she looked at Brett. “I do, but Brett wants to go first.”
Daisy’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she turned to Brett. “Oh. You do?”
Brett all but gritted his teeth. Moments earlier, Cathleen had been on edge while Brett was very relaxed, serving wine to all of them and making jokes. Now, he seemed annoyed, almost upset, and he answered in a clipped tone that did not resemble his usual easy-going nature. “I do.”