- Not for My Flowers💐 -

✨ Chapter 9: Outfits

✨ = Sparkling Cookie's POV || 🪴 = Herb Cookie's POV || 📘 = Third Person POV

"Ohmygodthisissocuteyouaresoluckygettingacru-" I chuckled nervously and covered her mouth. "Mont Blanc you're doing again." Her cheeks darkened under my palm. She took my hand off and laughed. "Sorry about that bulle garçon. You know my rambling problems." I nodded and smiled reassuringly. When I told Mont Blanc about the concert she immediately called me over to her boutique. Along with her reputation as a designer, she has one as a hopeless romantic to match. "Sparkling when does the concert start again?" She scurried around, grabbing shirts and scarves. "Uh..at eight I think." She began to shove clothes into my arms frantically, snatching others out accordingly. It took a minute for her to settle on an outfit and lock me in a fitting room. "Come out when you're done! We don't have that much time mon ami." I nodded at her words and quickly changed into the clothes.

    "So, how do i look?" I stepped out of the changing room and did a quick twirl. A maroon scarf was snug around my neck and a long beige jacket with black buttons weighted down on my shoulders. It's long sleeves draped down my arms, cutting off at my wrist, folding nicely. I wore a plain white shirt and black pants. Mont Blanc just stared at me. Then she stood up and started squealing while jumping up and down. "EEEEEEKMonamiyoulookamazingIcan'tbelieveIactuallymadethoseclothesCanyoubelieveitIcan'tbelieveitEEEEEEKI'msoexcitedforyoumonamiyou'regonnahavesomuchfunIhopeyouandherbgettogetherand-" She paused and took a gulp of air. I took the opportunity to clasp a hand over her mouth. "OhatyouandherbsweddingcanIbetheflowergirlandcanIdesignyouroutfits?Prettyprettypl-"

    "Okay that's enough now." The bubbles in my stomach swarmed and burst by the millions. It's surprising how fast that cookie can actually talk. "You good now?"  Her head bobbed up and down, dragging my hand with it. I took my hand back and rubbed it on the hem of my shirt. She slapped my hand away and redirected it onto her own puffy skirt. "Pas de saleté. Plus you are NOT rubbing my talent off." I blinked in disbelief. Why did I become friends with her again? "Mont Blanc...I'm not wiping your talent off, I'm wiping your spit off." She paused. "Ah...ew." She carefully folded my hand in a handkerchief and shoved it away. "You know it's your spit right?" She shuddered and shook her head. "Mon ami, you know it's still spit right?" I laughed at her sarcasm and playfully bopped her head with my wrapped hand. She squealed and jumped away. After she made many small adjustments she squealed once more and pushed me out the door. "Va vite mon ami! You don't want to be late to your date.~" The bubbles came back and swarmed in my stomach. It teased me with my breakfast at the back of my throat. "It's not a date Mont Blanc!" With a few notes of giggling she slammed the door and peered out her window grinning. I chuckled and walked away, shoving my hands in the jacket pockets. As I neared the concert, the bubbles erupted uncomfortably.