“It’s probably for the best if you do.”
“Oh my gosh. Why do you live here?” He looks around like cockroaches might be crawling all around him. Actually, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if they were.
I laugh and turn to unlock my apartment. “It’s a little thing called money. You see, I don’t have much of it.”
“Umm, you’re basically dating a bank. He probably has more money than a bank actually. Go move in with him! Here, I’ll help you. We’ll pack your things and move right now.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Dylan that Nathan is just my friend and I don’t want his financial help when I’m cut off by the sight of my apartment. Dylan steps in behind me, pulling two of his suitcases, and gasps.
“Holy flowers, Batman! I’m assuming, Ms. I-don’t-have-any-money, that you didn’t go out and buy yourself all of these magical bouquets?”
I shake my head slowly, speechless. There are dozens of bouquets filling my living room. Big glorious pink and green blooms everywhere. I don’t have a favorite flower because it’s too hard to narrow it down to one, but I do have a favorite flower color combination. Apparently, I’ve told Nathan this at some point. And he remembered. Pink and green. My stomach clenches tight.
“You’ve got a note over here.” Dylan is already picking it up and opening the card like we’ve been besties for twenty years and don’t keep secrets from each other. I snatch it out of his nosey hand with a reprimanding look and turn away to read it privately.
I hope you don’t mind, but I found a way to make your apartment smell better.
Be by at seven to pick you up.
-Nathan
My heartbeat is fierce, and it’s all I can do to not squeal like an excited little piggy in my living room. What is happening to me? What is happening to us? Nathan and I have been friends for a million years and he’s never once bought me flowers…and definitely never bought me a whole flower shop before. My mind races wondering what this is. What does this mean? That hope Lily was talking about blooms in my chest unbidden.
But I’m too scared to fully dive into it. He’s probably just trying to get me in the mood to fake a date tonight. Put hearts in my eyes. Unfortunately, they were already there even before any of this—and it’s making it much harder to not allow those feelings to escalate. And yesterday in my office…
“Lock it down, Bree.”
“Did you say something?” Dylan asks.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
He gasps suddenly. “There’s some sort of sticky goop on my butt! What do you think it is? Actually, no, I don’t want to guess. I want you to move apartments. Right now.”
I laugh and tug him with me to my bedroom where I pull out a pair of sweatpants and toss them at him. “Here, you can wear these.”
“Ugh, thank you!”
I leave the room so Dylan can get changed, and when he comes back in the living room in my light grey jogger sweatpants, he points to his rear end. “Umm, ma’am, these say Juicy on the booty.”
I strangle a laugh with a flower pressed to my nose where I was snorting it like an addict. “I know.”
“You didn’t have anything else that would fit me?”
“Oh, I definitely did.”
He crinkles his nose and steals a pillow from my couch to toss at me. “And to think I shopped all morning to find you the perfect dress. I should have just found you a t-shirt that had Skank written across it.”
“You shopped for me?” I ask with big round puppy dog eyes.
He tosses me a look over his shoulder as he goes to unzip the bag draped over my couch that holds several GORGEOUS dresses. “What did you think these were? Body bags? Like I just carry around my victims wherever I go?”
“Should I be scared that you thought of that so quickly?”
His only answer is pulling out a long floor-length gown and holding it up with proud eyes. “Okay, so I didn’t know your exact size, and I was a little skeptical to trust your man to accurately know it…but it looks like he was right! This is going to fit you like a glove.”
I take the dress from Dylan and look at the tag. Sure enough, it’s the right size. I’m terrified that Nathan knew that, because I’ve definitely never told him. Another thing I find is a price tag that makes me choke. “Please tell me this is not the real price of this gown!”
He shrugs and busies himself with unpacking those suitcases that, turns out, are full of designer hair and makeup products. Sephora has exploded in my living room, and it’s a beautiful sight. Lily would be so jealous. I text her a picture like the annoying, gloating little sister that I am.