I wanted to be with Penny in any context she would let me have her. But to be with her, I had to play by her rules even if I bent them to get my way. I wanted to win, and I wanted to win her.
There wasn’t much I could do besides texting, not without crossing the line. Showing up at her work would definitely be crossing the line. I could send her flowers at the tattoo parlor, but that would be way too big, too serious. I imagined her getting flowers from me and her eyes bugging out like I was psycho. Or worse — I imagined her laughing.
No. Definitely no flowers.
I huffed, running my fingers through my hair again, annoyed with myself for being so annoying. But I felt like an addict with no dealer, cracked out and irrational and driven to the point of desperation.
At that thought, I took a breath and told myself to ease up. The plan was to wait, so I’d wait.
She’d come around. My hope glimmered, revived by the thought. And when she did, I’d take advantage of every single second I had with her.
The bell over the shop’s door rang, and Ramona laughed.
“Penny, delivery.”
I glanced up from my desk in my booth to find a delivery guy looking around the room with a vase of flowers in his hand.
My heart shot into my throat.
Bodie!
Yeah, his name had an exclamation point in my head because I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for three full days and nights, and I was mildly — extremely — annoyed that he hadn’t texted me. Of course, I hadn’t texted him either.
The third date loomed, and I wanted to stave it off for as long as possible. I mean, until I couldn’t even stand it anymore. I was probably almost there because the thought of those flowers being from him made my vagina do stuff. Squeezy, clenchy stuff.
I hopped out of my seat and bounded to the delivery guy. “Are those for me?” I asked, grinning like a goddamn fool.
“If you’re Penny, yes, they are.”
I squealed and bounced on the balls of my feet. Every one of my co-workers watched me like I’d been possessed.
I had been. By Bodie’s dick and math jokes.
The delivery guy had me sign his little doohickey and handed me the flowers, which I promptly skipped over to the desk with, and Ramona and Veronica appeared by my side, eyeballing me.
“This is literally the first time I’ve ever seen you excited about getting flowers,” Ramona said incredulously.
Veronica watched me like my body had been snatched by an alien.
“They have to be from Bodie,” I said, digging through the rose blooms for a card. “He hasn’t even texted.”
“We know. You’ve only mentioned it every hour, on the hour, for three days.” Ramona patted my arm.
I found the card and plucked it out of the bouquet with an, Aha!, opening it with frantic fingers.
My stomach fell into my shoes with my smile.
“To Penny. Miss you. Consider my offer. Love, Brad,” I read aloud.
Veronica groaned. “Ugh, fuck you, Brad!”
I read it again, sure there was some mistake. “Brad? I haven’t even fucking seen that shithead in weeks, not since he asked me to move in with him. The curse of date three.” I picked up the bouquet by the vase and dropped it in the tall trash can behind the desk.
Ramona eyed them, torn. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”
I pointed at her. “Don’t you touch those. Those flowers are tainted by freaknut Brad and his inability to take a hint. Those flowers are from the wrong guy.”
I was whining, and I didn’t even care. I was way too butthurt to care.
“It’s not fair,” I said, bobbling a little.
Joel frowned at me from his station in the front of the shop before glancing at Veronica. “What’s the matter with her?”
She took my shoulders gently, angling me to him as I pouted. “Bodie hasn’t called her.”
“New fuckbuddy?” he asked.
“Doesn’t he like me?” I asked, my voice squeaky.
“I’m sure he does, honey,” Veronica cajoled. “Maybe you should just text him. You obviously want to see him again.”
I groaned. “I know, but it’s date three! And instead of turning into a pumpkin, he’s gonna turn into Brad.” I tossed a hand at the trashcan as if those flowers explained everything.
Joel sighed. “You like the guy, right?”
I nodded.
“Then fucking text him, you weirdo.”
“But what if—”
“Who cares? You want to see him, so see him. If it falls apart, deal with it.”
I was still pouting. “Why do you make everything seem so simple?”
“Because it is.” He rested his meaty, tattooed forearms on his knees and leaned toward me. “Listen, your afternoon job canceled, right?”
“Yeah,” I answered begrudgingly.
“It’s too hot in here, and your booth is the hottest in the shop. Go cool off. Cold shower. Ice cream. Something.”