23. Willow
WILLOW
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
Jenna has never been an early riser, so why the hell is she intruding on my sleep on a Saturday morning before my alarm goes off?
“Jenna, it’s not even eight a.m.,” I groan.
“No. It’s eleven thirty a.m.,” she teases.
“What?” I shout as I sit up quickly and grab my phone. “Why the fuck didn’t my alarm go off?”
“I turned it off last night so you could sleep in. You looked like you needed it, babe. Now come on. There’s something downstairs for you.”
She’s standing in my doorway, leaning against the frame. She’s still wearing the baggy T-shirt from last night, but now has on a pair of leggings and her Grinch slippers.
“What’s downstairs?” I ask, but it’s mid-yawn, and I can tell from her confused look that she didn’t understand me. “Sorry. What’s downstairs?”
“Oh. It’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises,” I groan as I drag my body out of bed and walk toward my bathroom.
“You don’t have to get dolled up. It’s not that kind of surprise,” she teases as I slam the door shut.
“I have to pee. Fuck off.”
I’m not a nice person in the morning until I’ve had my coffee. I can hear her laugh getting quieter. She must be going back downstairs.
I look at my reflection. Dark circles are smudged under my eyes from not being able to get all the waterproof mascara off last night. There’s still a faded line of eyeliner under my eyes as well. I reach for a makeup wipe, then stop.
“Fuck it. It’s not like I’m going anywhere today.”
When I leave the bathroom, I grab my phone again. Not a single text from Noah, or anyone for that matter. Even though Jenna is pretty much the only person I ever talk to.
“Babe, you coming?” Jenna shouts from the landing.
“Coming. Sorry,” I shout back.
I throw on my UofM hoodie and step out of my room. The old hardwood floors are freezing, and I can tell from the way the air feels that the heat is acting up again.
“Can we please call someone to fix the heat? I’m going to…What the fuck?”
“Surprise!”
As I step off the last step and turn into the living room, I’m instantly surrounded by bouquets. But they aren’t just any flowers…They’re ditch lilies.
“What the hell? Where did these come from?”
She hands me a black envelope with a huge grin on her face. She didn’t open it, but I’m assuming she’s thinking it’s the same person that I’m thinking.
Noah.
“I didn’t know you liked tiger lilies,” she says as she sits down on the couch and picks up a bouquet to smell it.
“They aren’t tiger lilies. They’re ditch lilies.”
She looks at me, confused, and tilts her head. I forgot that not everyone knows about ditch lilies.
“Tiger lilies have spots on them. These are ditch lilies. They’re…” A wave of nausea hits me as a memory comes flooding back. I drop the envelope and quickly have to sit down.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Just started thinking of a memory. These have always been my favorite flowers. They thrive in some of the worst conditions, even in darkness. They’re tough and beautiful.”
I pick up the envelope and slowly open it. I hope to God this is from Noah. If not, I’m going to have an even bigger problem on my hands.
Willow,
I’m so sorry about last night. I hope you can forgive me. I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday. I hope you enjoy the flowers. They’re my favorite flower, so I think they might be yours, too.
-Noah
“So, what’s it say? Is it from Mr. Bigshot?”
“Yeah. He just apologized for last night and said he looks forward to seeing me on Tuesday.”
I pass her the card so she can read it. She looks it over a few times before raising her eyebrow and looking at me.
“So, why does he think it’ll be your favorite because they’re his?” she asks.
“Because the burger he had me try last night was his favorite, and now it’s mine. Then, when we were at the arcade, he said it was his favorite, and he knew it would be mine too.”
“Aww. That’s cute. Already acting like a couple,” she laughs as she gets up and glances around the room, slowly counting. “So, any guesses on why fifteen?”
My stomach drops. Fifteen? Why would there be fifteen bouquets?
“I don’t know. Are you sure there’s fifteen?” I ask nervously.
“Yep.”
“Weird,” I say nervously.
It’s a coincidence. There was probably a miscommunication. He probably ordered a dozen or so lilies, and they thought he meant a dozen or so bouquets…There’s no way he knows…
“Willow?”
“Hmm?”
“Coffee’s ready.”
“Thank God.”
I set the envelope and card on the coffee table and glance around the room once more.
“Thirteen…Fourteen…Fuck.”
She’s not wrong. There are fifteen bouquets of my favorite flower.
It’s been fifteen years since it happened.
There’s no way he knows…Does he?