Page 16 of They Are Mine

She hesitates, like she’s nervous, and my heart kicks up a little.

“My friends and I are having a movie night tomorrow,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Would you want to come?”

I blink. That’s not what I was expecting.

“Uh,” I say, scrambling for words. “Yeah, I, yeah, that sounds great.”

She beams.

Of course she invited me with her friends. She’s too sweet to just invite a guy over alone.

She probably thinks it’d be weird. Unsafe. Because she doesn’t know me yet.

And that makes sense.

She’s smart. She’s careful.

“I’ll text you the address,” she says softly, tapping her nails against her cup.

Her phone is already in her hand. Already unlocked. Like she was ready for this.

My phone vibrates and she smiles one last time before walking away, I already know, I’m in deep.

I have never wanted time to move faster than I do right now.

This is worse than waiting for my shift to end. Worse than waiting for summer break to start as a kid. Worse than anything.

Because I want tomorrow to come. I want it to be movie night.

I want to see Juliet again.

I don’t even know what movie we’re watching. I don’t care. I’d watch a three-hour black-and-white documentary about the history of paperclips if it meant sitting next to her again.

My phone stays in my pocket all day, but I check it too much anyway.

Nothing from her. Not yet.

I manage to resist texting her all night.

Today the shift drags, but I make it through.

I clock out, toss my apron in my bag, and get in my car. And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I pull into the florist down the street.

It’s stupid.

Maybe.

We barely know each other. This isn’t a date.

It’s just a movie night with her friends.

But she’s the kind of girl who deserves flowers.

I step into the shop, nodding to the older woman at the counter. I should probably just get a single flower. Something small. Low-pressure.

But then I see the roses.

Pink and white.

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