Page 21 of Blossoming Dahlia

“Have you read all of these?” she asked curiously, trailing her fingers over the spines as she looked them over. It felt weirdly intimate having her here, letting her see the private aspects of my life. I guessed, we were sort of even now, in a way.

“I have, yeah,” I replied. “Some were gifts and others I got for work. Some were just for fun,” I explained. “Would you like something to drink?” I offered, needing something to do. I walked over to my fridge and checked inside, but all I had was a moldy block of cheese, a cup of yogurt that I probably shouldn’t even open, and a few bottles of condiments. My cupboards were a little better, I found an unopened bag of pretzels and a bottle of whiskey one of my uncles had given me as a gift for getting my PHD.

“Sorry, it’s not much,” I sighed. “We can order in something a bit more substantial,” I announced, walking out with what I’d found. Dahlia had grabbed a book and was curled up on the couch, flipping through it. She looked up as I approached and set the book down in her lap.

“That works for me,” she replied. I set our snacks down on the coffee table and went back to fetch a couple of glasses. I poured us each a healthy measure and opened the bag of pretzels, testing one to make sure they weren’t too stale. I looked over at the book Dahlia was reading, noticing the images of flowers on a few of the pages.

“The Love Language of Flowers.” Dahlia smiled, holding up the spine for me to see. “You sure have some strange interests,” she mused, continuing to flip through it.

“I thought it was interesting, some people still really believe in some of these,” I told her. “Like white lilies. You shouldn’t give someone white lilies because they’re considered a flowerfor condolences, so you’d normally only see them at funerals.” Dahlia nodded along with me, picking up her whiskey and giving it a tentative sip.

“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “So you got this to make sure you wouldn’t make a faux-pas when you bought a girl flowers.”

“Exactly.” I nodded solemnly, but a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“You know, all the guys I dated have bought me dahlias.” She sighed, closing the book and setting it down on the table. I raised my eyebrows. “It’s either that, or they bring up the Black Dahlia true crime case.” She rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the effort, but it was my mom who liked dahlias, I didn’t name myself that.” I laughed as she took another sip, settling back into the couch.

“So what’s your favorite flower then?” I asked.

“I like azaleas.” Dahlia smiled wistfully. “My grandma used to grow them every summer. I loved to sit outside and watch the bees land on the little flowers.” She looked almost relaxed now, lounging on my couch with my hoodie on. A small kernel of satisfaction nestled in my chest, knowing she was so comfortable in my home. It quelled the weird, possessive feeling that came over me whenever I was around her.

“So, what was the first bouquet you bought, after learning all about their love language?” she asked abruptly, her eyes sparkling. I felt my cheeks heat up and I lifted my glass to my lips to mask it.

“I haven’t gotten around to it yet,” I murmured.

Dahlia frowned and sat forward to study me closely. “Asher, are you telling me you haven’t bought a single girlfriend flowers?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, not exactly.” I cleared my throat, feeling awkward now. This conversation was veering sharply out of my comfort zone.

“Oh? Oh…” Dahlia quirked her head, still studying me, but her eyes had softened. It wasn’t pity at least, that would have been truly embarrassing.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think of a way to segue into something less… intimate than my painfully monk-like dating history.

“Did you know that after Harry Houdini died, his wife Bess would have a séance every year to try and contact him?” I explained. “They’d even come up with a secret code so she’d know if it was truly him. She did that for ten years after he died, always hoping he would reach out to her.” Dahlia’s lips parted, and for a moment I thought she would make fun of me for that dumb piece of trivia.

“That’s so sweet and so sad,” she replied softly, her hand drifting to her throat. That was what I’d thought too, when I’d read about it. “What was the code?”

“It had a few parts to it, but the main bit was Rosabelle,” I told her. “It was the name of the song she was singing when they first met, he had it inscribed on her wedding band.” Her lips turned up in a wistful smile, and she tipped her head back, letting out a little sigh.

“That is so romantic,” she murmured, and her gaze locked with mine. I took another drink, my throat suddenly very dry. I realized just how close we were sitting on the couch, and I couldn’t remember how that had happened. We should definitely not be getting this close, this was flirting with danger.

“I should check in with Hunter, see if he’s got a new place set up for you to stay,” I mumbled, pulling out my phone.

“Will he have something arranged by tonight, do you think?” she asked, setting her glass down on the table.

“I’m sure he’ll try, it won’t be very comfortable for you to stay here,” I replied, looking for any new messages from Hunter, buthe hasn’t answered me since I’d texted him earlier to let him know we’d arrived.

“Why’s that?” she asked, cocking her eyebrow.

“There’s not much privacy,” I explained, pointing at my bed. “You deserve your own space, we’re already in your face so much.” I sent him another text before putting my phone on the table. “Want to watch a movie or something?” I asked, and she grinned.

“Got anything scary?” she asked.

We ended up watchingDawn of the Dead, and then we took a quick break to order some dinner. I still hadn’t heard from Hunter, which was very out of character for him. Although if he’d gotten a break in the case he might’ve been too busy to update me. I hoped that was the case. When our dinner arrived, I paid the delivery guy for our Thai food and we settled back on the couch to watchHellraiser. It was the first time I had a woman up in my apartment like this, and I had to say it was really nice. Dahlia gravitated toward me again as the evening wore on, curling up against me as we took turns pointing out mistakes or weird things in the movie.

The movie was nearly over when I noticed her eyelids starting to droop. I turned off the TV, despite her grumbling, and she begrudgingly agreed to sleep in the bed tonight. She had a quick shower and changed into a different pair of pajamas than she’d worn at the hotel. These ones were lacy and blue, and I forced myself to stare at the wall when she came out of the bathroom, tiptoeing barefoot across the floor until she reached my bed.

I said goodnight and then went to have a shower myself. The lights were off by the time I got out, and I could hear her breathing low and even as I walked back to the couch. I grabbed the throw blanket off the back and pulled it over myself. My apartment was older and a little drafty, especially at night, soI knew I would get cold. I fell asleep easily listening to her breathing close by.

---