Page 105 of A False Start
For a change of scenery, I grab the stack of mail I pulled from the little locked cubby in the lobby of my building. I lucked out getting a furnished place near campus on short notice. I could have commuted the forty-five minutes to and from Emerald Lake, but with traffic I could have potentially added almost two hours into my day—two hours I’m now glad I have to study.
Burying myself in my books here means three things. One, I don’t run into Griffin Sinclaire around town. Two, I don’t read any tabloids that might discuss Griffin Sinclaire or his divorce, which, according to my brother, has become a popular tabloid story—even without the existence of a sex tape. And three, I spend slightly less time obsessing about Griffin Sinclaire.
My blood still boils at the memory of that woman. That spark of anger I’ve worked so hard to control dances in my chest.I really hate that bitch.
Right around when I got here, Stefan called to tell me Griffin had checked himself into a twenty-eight-day rehab program and that they were pretty sure she didn’t have a tape at all. When I hung the phone up, I cried. I missed him, like some part of me was left behind. But more than anything, I wasrelieved.
He owes himself so much more than he’s been giving. I wanted that for him so badly that it hurt. I wanted him to know in his bones what I already do—he’s worth it. He’s wortheverything.
I shuffle the envelopes.
Bill.
Bill.
Junk mail.
I stop with a pink envelope clutched in my fingers. The blocky all caps scribbled across it, not a match for the feminine color.
My heart races as I stare at it, already knowing who it’s from, even with no return address. I feel the hum of his touch on the paper as I slide a shaking finger beneath the fold and rip it open. On a shaky inhale, I pull out a small slip of paper and a smaller envelope with a photograph of a white flower that has light pink stripes on the wide petals adorning it. I open the smaller envelope, but it’s empty. I’m sure it once held seeds for the flower labeledSpring Beauty.
I flip the paper, where the blocky scrawl continues.
Spring Beauty
Alpine wildflower. Comes up right after the snow melts. Blooms within two to four weeks. Can use energy reserves to produce heat and melt through the last of snow. Strong as fuck. Reminds me of you.
A tear drops onto the page, and I panic, wiping it off frantically. Not wanting to mar the note. I don’t know what it means, but I know he’s called me Wildflower since the first day we met. And the nickname has become incredibly meaningful to me.
That night I sleep with the note clutched in my hand and pretend that Griffin is here with me.
I miss him.
* * *
It’s beentwo weeks since midterms. The midterms I absolutely slayed. I’ve shed a good chunk of that self-doubt I’ve been toting around with me for years, and I’m thriving.
I wipe the sweat off my brow as I walk into my building after a run. My new hobby. A way to burn energy and clear my head. I’ve always hated running, but I forced myself to keep going, and now I look forward to it. It’s weird.
The key clicks as I turn it in my mailbox to check for another pink envelope. Like I have every single day for the past two weeks.
I burned off enough steam during my run that I’ve convinced myself already that I won’t be seeing one today. Which makes the sight of it in the slot so much better.
I don’t even wait until I get up to my unit to rip the envelope open. I’m too fucking excited.
This time I see a hot pink flower that’s all fuzzy in the middle. I definitely dig the color. I swap it over for the note, smiling like a maniac before I’ve even read it.
Monkey Flower
That fuzzy part in the middle is called a stigma. Apparently, it’s the female reproductive organ. These flowers have especially sensitive stigmas, and they think that might help with pollination. I still think about that little whimpering noise you make. Reminds me of you.
I bark out a laugh.Fucking perv.I smile at the note the entire ride up in the elevator and into my unit. I smile all the way into the shower. It’s not until the water scalds my skin that I let my tears pour out and wash down the drain.
I miss him.
* * *
Finals are upon me,and I’m stoked. Like actually excited to prove how good I am at this. I’m at the top of my class and not slowing down. What started out as a semester of me feeling scared and alone has turned into one of the best times of my life. I’m learning. I’m making new friends who don’t know me from Adam. They don’t know my brother. They don’t know my reputation from high school. They don’t know Griffin. The experience just wouldn’t have been the same had I lived in Ruby Creek and commuted every day. I’d have dragged a little bit of baggage out this way with me every day.
