Page 48 of Some Things Never Change

“From Eric?” he asked with a sniff.

“They’re actually for you, pretty boy.” I laughed. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

When I was in the thick of my crush on Andy as a teen, he made it worse by getting me small bouquets every Valentine’s Day. I knew there was no meaning behind it since he always got Shoua something similar along with his mom and my mom, too.

When we were younger, he was purposefully never with any girl around Valentine’s Day. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that he just wasn’t emotionally attached or invested in them. Instead, he showered us four with plenty of care and attention. Our moms always got the best bouquets, while Shoua and I often got smaller and cheaper ones from the grocery store.

In return for his generosity, I also started buying him Valentine’s Day bouquets from the grocery store as well. Because why not? It eventually became an ongoing joke, and we kept it up even when he went off to college. We both continued to send each other bouquets every February 14th all the way until I was in my second year of college, right before he told me about a girl he wanted to be serious with. Our yearly ritual of sending one another flowers every Valentine’s Day fizzled out just like that.

I thought it would be great for giggles and to reminisce if I got him his own bouquet again this year. Cheap red roses had been all I had ever sent him before, so I wanted something different. This year I got him a large, lush, and luxurious bouquet of mixed flowers full of white roses, deep purple pincushions, plenty of royal blue delphiniums, and more.

I pushed the flowers toward Andy as his hands reached out to touch the cool vase. As he did so, his long and warm fingers brushed against my knuckles and sent a tingle up my arm. Slowly, his cheeks and neck bloomed a deep rose red I knew wasn’t his fever.

“I-I—” he rasped. That was all he could say as his hand reached out to finger one of the white roses.

I snorted as I walked past him, accidentally brushing my shoulder against his hard biceps. I laughed, “You’re welcome.”

As I walked into my room to hang up my coat and put away my bag, I came to an immediate halt. A massive bouquet of white and blush pink peonies and roses welcomed me on my nightstand. There was a second bouquet of plastic pink and white flowers bundled with real baby’s breaths sitting on my well-made bed as well.

My jaw dropped.

I never made my bed in the mornings, and the only other person that was home would have been Andy. Although I was in communication with Eric, I was clear with him not to worry about getting me anything for Valentine’s Day. I also hadn’t told him my address. So, unless he went around me and asked Cindy for my home address, I doubted he’d send me anything.

“I guess we were both thinking of the same thing,” said Andy softly from behind me. He let out a small, raspy laugh. “Going back down on memory lane and all.”

“Y-You bought me this ginormous bouquet?” I asked in a squeaky voice.

It was even bigger than the one I got him, which must have been at least two hundred dollars or more. I had to ask for confirmation, even though it was obviously him. I looked over my shoulder at Andy and he smiled. His bright eyes watched me intently.

“Actually, I made both of them.” Despite his horribly sore throat, I could hear the sincerity behind it.

I hurried over to my bedside, staring at both of the bouquets of flowers. The plastic roses on the bed were clearly made of building blocks. They were beautiful and just very Andy. But the real bouquet on my nightstand was the real showstopper.

He perfectly balanced it with the right amount of filler greens and everything. I hated to admit it, but the bouquet he made himself was better than any bouquet I had ever ordered or received from a professional florist. The number of flowers he put in it was double the size and even more grandiose than the one I bought him, making me embarrassed I couldn’t even give him something better.

I felt my jaw drop lower as I gave him a look of astonishment. Andy knew how to arrange flowers? Since when?

“I didn’t know you knew how to arrange flowers,” I stated, dumbly.

The wide smile he wore fell into a sheepish, smaller one as he walked into my room. He took a seat on my bed, took out a throat lozenge from his pocket, and unwrapped it. He tossed it into his mouth nonchalantly.

“I don’t. I just looked at pictures and put it all together through that.”

My brows shot to the sky. I wasn’t expecting that kind of statement from him. It just looked like he must have done this all the time.

“You’re the first woman I’ve ever done this for, Julie.” His voice was gentle despite his scratchy throat.

I let out a shaky breath as my heart hammered against my ribcage, making it hard to breathe. I couldn't believe what Andy was telling me. It was a shock to learn that I was the first woman he had ever done something like this for. Which made me wonder about his previous relationships. If he had never done this for them, then why me?

I took a seat next to Andy on the bed. I stared at him, my mind racing several miles a minute. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I couldn't seem to make my mouth work. Instead, I just sat there, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“W-Wait.” My voice cracked a bit. “When did you make this?”

“I stayed up late after you went to sleep last night.”

“I thought you went to bed before me.”

“Nope, I didn’t. I went to a flower market early yesterday morning before you woke up and hid the flowers in the master bathroom. Then I stayed up late last night to make you the bouquet, even though I started to feel like crap.”

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