“Sure thing, Smithy. As long as you join me. Eating alone isn’t so much fun.”
He softens a little and smiles at me. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Awesome, I’m going to grab a shower, then I’ll be down.” I jog up the stairs, the bubble bath can wait for the minute. My stomach growls at the realization that food is far higher up the priority list right now.
It doesn’t take long to shower and wash my hair, though blowing out my waist length hair takes longer than I’d like. I’d cut it, but well… My hair is the only thing I’m really fussy about when it comes to my looks. It’s weird, but it is what it is. I’m allowed to be vain about one thing.
I throw on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, pulling my hair up into a messy bun before making my way back down to the kitchen. I find Smithy humming along to the music he has funneling through the speakers in here, almost dancing as he’s standing at the chopping board. If I wasn’t hungry before, the smells coming from this room would have me ravenous.
“Anything I can help with?” I ask as I enter the room, and he shakes his head as the gate buzzer sounds.
“Expecting anyone?” he asks, frowning.
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. I’ll go see who it is, don’t let me interrupt you. Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”
Smithy offers a noncommittal grunt in return, so I turn on my heel and go to the monitor in the small room just by the front door. I peer into the monitor, but I don’t see anyone at the gates. I push the button to the microphone while frowning. “Hello?”
No one responds, and the monitor flickers to another one of the cameras we have set up, and I catch sight of something leaning against the gate.
Flowers?
Yeah, that’s not weird at all.
“Who is it?” Smithy calls out as I leave the security room.
“Looks like a flower delivery, but they left them at the gate. I’m just going to go get them.” I slip my sneakers back on, giving zero fucks that I look like a hot mess, grab my keys, and jog down to the gate. I use the clicker to open the gates, standing back and waiting to see if anyone jumps out. Apparently the assholes at school have me a little on edge. I’ve seen too many movies where the mean girls cover the girl in honey and feathers, or worse… If they fuck with me like that, I’ll do far worse to them than has already been done to me. I’ve not really retaliated at this point but that doesn’t mean I won’t.
When I’m confident there’s no one there, I rush forward and grab the flowers, hitting the clicker for the gates as soon as I’m clear.
It doesn’t take me long to get back to the house, and I drop my keys back into the bowl next to the mail and take the flowers to the kitchen.
“Oh tulips, how lovely,” Smithy says as I lay the flowers down on the counter. “I’ll grab a vase as soon as I slide this into the oven.”
I look at the veggie lasagna he’s layering and practically drool. “Smithy, you are a culinary wonder.”
He ignores my compliment in favor of studying the flowers for a moment. “Who are the flowers from? Yellow tulips aren’t a usual gifting flower.” He moves across the kitchen and grabs a vase from fuck knows where and fills it with water.
I pull the card from the flowers, but there is no inscription on the envelope. It’s sealed with red wax, a horse inside of a rose. Weird. I break the seal and find a black card inside, embossed with the same image on the seal. “No idea who they’re from. There’s nothing on the card.”
I show him the card, and I swear I see fear flicker behind his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appears, so I question if I even saw it at all. “Well, a mysterious suitor. How quaint.”
He takes the flowers and arranges them in the vase, placing them on the windowsill. Smithy admires them for a short moment before turning back to me and asking, “Now, are we eating in here or with a movie, Miss Octavia?”
“Serial killer TV?” I ask hopefully, knowing he won’t really tell me no.
He shakes his head, smiling softly. “Why not? Maybe we’ll learn a thing or two.”
I grin at him and clap my hands. “That’s the spirit, Smithy. Every girl should know how to hide a body.”
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I see a notification from the ReachMe app. Dread pools in my stomach. The last time I used the app was when the picture of East and I was on there. I haven’t opened it since. I don’t need to see the vitriol being hurled at me from every angle reflected on the school’s shitty app.
Smithy turns his focus back to cooking, so I leave the room quietly and curl up on one of the sofas in the main room. Curiosity bites at me. Maybe the notification isn’t about me.
My phone buzzes again, though, and I glance at it to see a message from Indi.
Indi: I’m sorry, they’re such assholes. Just ignore it. I’ve reported this too, so it should be gone soon.
Butterflies kick up in my stomach at her message. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I open the stupid closed network app. My notifications are insane. Apparently pictures and videos of me on here are rife. I’m tagged in so much shit, each caption more hateful than the next.