PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Thirty Five*

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How did we get to this place we're in?

It makes no sense, but it feels right

And maybe that's God

I probably shouldn't ignore him

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Jaime's P.O.V.

July 18th 1997

"What about these ones?" Jess points to a tacky bouquet that's filled with a random assortment of flowers that look fake. They're spray painted vibrant colors that cannot be natural, especially for a random grocery store in New Jersey. They'll probably just be thrown out anyway.

"Those are ugly." No point in trying to sugar coat it.

Jess picks up a bouquet of sunflowers. "What about these? He calls you Sunshine. It's like a thing. It'll be cute."

My eyes scan over the assortments of flowers. I sound cheesy, like Harry, when none of them call to me. Great. Now I'm waiting for flowers to talk to me. I miss not caring about a guy's opinion. Life was so much easier then. He's got me wrapped around his finger and I'm not sure he even knows it. I need to keep it that way.

"Nah. Plus, he already did that when I took me out. I don't want to be too heavy handed." I'm already freaking out as it is.

"Awwww, that's adorable. Whatever you pick he's gonna love it."

I try my best not to roll my eyes and somehow succeed.

"Do you girls need some help?" An elderly lady with a name tag that reads "Doris" pops out from behind a counter that I had assumed was vacant.

"Yes. Please." Jess groans dramatically. I scowl at her. I know I'm being difficult but she's my best friend, you'd think she'd have some sort of Jaime tolerance by now. "My very picky friend here is trying to pick some flowers for her boyfriend."

"Not my boyfriend," I grumble, but Jess ignores me.

"Shouldn't it be the gentleman who gets the flowers?" Doris asks innocently.

"Come on, Doris," I lift my chin at her. My hands slide into the back pockets of my jean shorts. "It's the 90s, girls can get their guy some flowers. Plus he's the super romantic cheesy type. I could probably pull weeds from my backyard and he would blush."

A soft smile crosses her face. Her eyes are distant, clearly lost in a memory of her own.

"You're right. I think I have just the thing."

She ducks behind the counter she appeared from. A bunch of noise comes from her direction as we hear her rummage around. I look at Jess expecting her to share my 'this lady is crazy' look, but she has a giant smile on her face like she knows something I don't.

Moments later, Doris reapers with a simple bouquet of red roses. I get a tight feeling in my lower stomach. It almost makes me want to clench my thighs together. Oh my god, I think to myself, these flowers are fucking calling to me.

"They're perfect." I shock myself with the gentleness in my voice. They're big, and totally cheesy, but I know he'll love them. I don't know what Harry's life looks like in New York, but I don't know if he has anyone to buy him flowers. He always talks about how much he loves to paint them. Harry deserves to have fresh flowers in his paint studio always.