Florence - (G.B.)/(B.A.)

Chapter 23

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Noticing Cole

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During lunch that day, Florence purposely didn't sit with any of her friends. Instead, she decided to find a spot outside on the wooden bench and do some writing. Not writing about stories or poetry like usual . . . No, she was writing a letter to Prissy. In particular, a letter that outlined how the girl should reconsider her marriage to Mr Phillips.

Dearest Prissy,

I'll be honest with you. Mr Phillips is an unsuitable match.

Just as she was about to continue, the half-written letter was suddenly snatched from her grasp and she looked up to see the foolish Billy Andrews. He chuckled at her as Florence quickly stood up and went rushing towards him. Out of reflex, Billy stood taller and held the book far out of her reach.

"Don't look inside!" she pleaded, "Please."

"Why? What're you hiding?" Amusement glinted in his honey-brown eyes.

"Nothing of your concern," she answered, bringing her arms down in defeat. "Can I please just have it back?"

Billy pretended to think about it, slowly bringing the notebook down like he was handing it back to her, but the possibility instantly diminished when he began to mindlessly flip through the pages of the book ⸺ still far from Florence's reach.

Suddenly, a devious idea rose into Florence's mind and with it in action, she went closer as he looked through the book with not a care in the world ⸺ she roughly stepped onto his foot, and out of sheer surprise and hurt for his injury, the book slipped out of his grasp. She caught it before it fell to the ground.

"Fuck!" Billy yelled, crouching down to cradle his foot. He glanced up to see the girl's expression and was baffled when he noticed that she wasn't pleased in any way, but was instead averse. In reality, he wasn't that hurt, but he was used to causing commotion for no reason.

"I didn't enjoy doing that if you're curious," she said as she tucked the notebook under her arms.

"The pages are all empty, so why were you so desperate to have it back?"

Not all of them.

"Because it's personal," she argued, "You wouldn't like it if I touched your hunting rifle, would you?"

He just narrowed his eyes.

Sighing, Florence put the notebook back down on the bench and kindly offered out her hand for Billy to take, seeing as he was still crouched down on the ground. He simply stared at her hand with clear suspicion before shaking his head and standing up without support. He stayed for a moment, looking at her intently as if he wanted to really say something, but he resorted against it and continued on his way over to his minion friends.

Accepting defeat, for now, Florence decided to pick up her notebook and go look for Moody. The boy usually ate lunch alone so she would first eat lunch with him and write her letter to Prissy later.

***

"Hey, we should go sit with Cole," Florence whispered, tapping Moody.

The boy stared at her as if she was crazy. "What? Why?"

"Mr Phillips gave him a difficult time earlier. I don't think I've seen him with anyone for a while, and he's a new student. He shouldn't go without a friend, nobody should."

Moody begrudgingly agreed, knowing that he wasn't sure what he would do if he hadn't befriended Florence all that time ago. At his nod, she reached for his arm and pulled him towards Cole Mackenzie. The blond boy hadn't yet noticed the duo arriving, too invested in his sketch of a beautiful flower that had caught Florence's attention.

"That's a lovely drawing. I adore flowers," she commented which startled him at first. He looked between the two, wondering if they were here to just be friendly, or to tease him.

"May we sit with you?" Florence inquired politely.

"Uh . . . Sure."

She smiled at him and then to Moody beside her before the two sat down across from the blond. She gestured to her lunch box, offering. "I bought homemade cookies today, baked fresh this morning. My grandmother is a great baker."

Moody's mouth opened in a gasp. "You offer him cookies and not me?"

"I was saving them for later. You will get them eventually." Turning her attention back to Cole, Florence raised out her hand for him to shake. "My name is Florence, and this right here is my wonderful friend, Moody."

The raven-head awkwardly waved.

Cole nodded with a small smile. "Well, in that case, I'm Cole."

"I'm sorry for the trouble that Mr Phillips and Billy Andrews gave you earlier. They are best to be ignored . . . Especially the teacher. Trust me, I began doing just that a long time ago and look at me now? Happy as a bunch."

He glanced back down at his notebook, but there was something different about his demeanour now. He looked less anxious. "I'll keep that in mind."

Florence glanced at Moody who was already eating his fifth cookie from the container. She slowly pulled the basket away from him, causing him to frown.

***

Dearest Prissy,

I'll be honest with you. Mr Phillips is an unsuitable match. You have to listen closely, and you have to promise me that you won't be upset. The next thing I'm about to tell you is very important and whatever decision that you make upon reading this letter ⸺ continuing with the marriage or not ⸺ I'll understand and support you.

Last year . . .

Once she had written up the letter and was satisfied with what she said, Florence was just about to grab an envelope from the drawer but stopped herself in her tracks.

The girl pondered for a long moment: was what she was doing right? She was only revealing the truth about her friend's fiance, but disputed all of that . . . Prissy seemed so delighted when she came to give her the news about their engagement. Florence still remembered the shimmering gleam in the girl's eyes as she talked about how it was when he first popped the question . . . and that he would be coming over to her home to formally ask for her hand in marriage in front of her parents.

Perhaps, she was doing the wrong thing, writing a letter and all.

Prissy loved him.

Florence tore the paper in frustration, throwing the two pieces onto the wooden floor. She groaned, leaning back in her chair and setting her pen down. She had been trying for a whole week to write to Prissy, but the sudden realization, in spite of how terrible it may have been, perhaps she could try and forget about what had been on her mind. For the sake of our friendship, she told herself.

Suddenly, she remembered that her grandmother or worse, her grandfather could possibly find the torn up pieces of the letter on the ground and try to piece them together again . . . and end up reading her confession!

Quickly standing up, she took hold of both pieces and slipped them into her desk drawer.

Now she was safe. Nobody would find out.