Chapter 2

“You are a little smaller than some guys,” Gilbert agreed. “But you’ve got all that curly dark hair, those big brown eyes, and those puffy lips.”

“Puffy lips? You make it sound like I had a Botox injection.”

Gilbert snorted. “Hardly. But you do have kissable lips. I know a lot of guys who’d think you were really hot.”

“Uh-huh. Any of your friends?” I took the lunch meat out of the fridge and set it next to the lettuce and bread already on the counter.

“Well.” He shrugged.

“Thought so.”

“Jess, most of my friends are straight. And the couple of them that aren’t already have boyfriends.”

“Yeah, yeah. I made my point.” I waved a butter knife at him I was using to smear mayo on my bread. “I suspect that box of chocolates was a mistake.”

“It had your name on it.”

“I’m sure they confused me with someone else.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Whatever. You working today?”

“In a couple of hours. I’m going to grab a quick nap after my sandwich.”

“How about on Valentine’s Day?” Gilbert went to the cabinet and took out a plastic cup. He filled it with water from the water filter.

I sighed. “I tried to get hours that day but they didn’t need me. So, unfortunately, no, I’m going to be home bored out of my skull. Probably order a pizza. What about you? I know you have to have a hot date. Are you still seeing that assistant swimming coach?”

“Nah. That ended a few weeks ago. He was too into himself. But yeah, I am hoping I’ll have a hot date. I’m trying to work that out, actually.”

Which was extremely depressing. I knew I’d never get a guy like Gilbert, and I had accepted that, sort of, but it still stung a bit to hear him talking about plans that didn’t include me.

He finished his water and set the cup in the sink. “Well, I’m headed out to do some swimming.”

Yeah, he was always headed out to do some swimming. I thought he might be hiding gills under his clothes. He wanted to make the swim team for the 2016 Summer Olympics and had been training hard.

“Okay, maybe I’ll see you tonight when I get home from work.”

* * * *

I got off work when the store closed at ten, so by the time I did some cleaning up, got out to my car, and drove home, it was a quarter to eleven. As I walked up the stairs to our apartment door I noticed a blue vase with a single dyed blue carnation. Wrapped around the neck of the vase was a blue ribbon.

I bent to pick it up and this time there was just a blue sticky note on the vase that read Jesse.Whoever left it knew that carnations were my favorite flower and blue my favorite color. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the vase.

“Gilbert?”

“Yeah?” he called from the living room.

Carrying both my backpack, which I took everywhere with me, and the vase, I walked into the living room. “When did this come?”

Gilbert was sitting on the couch, watching television. He frowned. “No idea. Where did you find it?”

“In front of our door.”

“It wasn’t there when I got home.”

“When was that?” I set my backpack on a chair.

“I don’t know. Just after eight, I think.” He smiled and turned off the television. “I’m guessing it’s for you again. Right?”

I nodded. “Yes, and whoever they are, they know I like blue and carnations. You don’t think I have a stalker, do you?”

He got up from the couch and grabbed the vase from me, heading into the kitchen. Of course I followed and watched as he added water from the sink to the vase.

“No, I do not think you have a stalker. Aren’t they usually sinister? Like a box of flowers with worms in it or something?” He shrugged. “I think whoever he is, he just likes you, Jesse.”

“Okay.” I exhaled. “Good. Well, then, it’s kind of sweet. If someone really does like me, why not just come and tell me so?”

“I think this is his way of telling you.” Gilbert handed me the vase.

I leaned down to smell the carnation. “Sweet. It has that clove smell I love so much. Some of them, you can barely smell. This one you can.”

“I’m making myself some green tea,” Gilbert said, turning on the electric kettle. “You want some?”

“Yeah thanks. That sounds good.” I went to sit at the dining room table where I could watch him as he took out two mugs and set them up with the strainer and his loose leaf green tea. He’d told me more than once his other dream, other than being in the Olympics, was to have his own tea shop. Maybe even a tea themed bed-and-breakfast. I smiled thinking of his enthusiasm when he’d talked to me and Stuart.