SNAKESKIN (Tangerine) ✓

十一

Tangerine

I stood outside Bronte's hotel room my hands quivering in nervousness as I braced myself to knock on the door. It was seven o'clock and I was standing outside my friend's room with flowers in one hand and the other clenched, by my side.

I've made the biggest mistake of my life, I thought, scolding myself for letting my instincts get the better of me. It was a couple of days ago, after Bronte, Lemon and I had got back to the hotel in London, after our most recent job. We had a few days before we had to leave and I had plucked up the courage to ask my friend out to dinner.

We had known each other for almost three years and it had taken everything in me to maintain professional boundaries with Bronte. We got along so well and the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling in my chest that occurred whenever we were together made me want to be around her all the time.

Somehow though, she had never noticed, but Lemon had. He loved to tease me about it whenever he could. It was his brotherly duty, of course. But it wasn't funny when Bronte was in the room.

I raised my fist to the door, letting it hover for a few seconds before I knocked. As soon as I did, I took a step. back holding the flowers behind my back and trying to compose myself. After a few moments, the door opened and I was greeted with the smiling face of my best friend. She was wearing a navy blue dress shirt, with black flowy pants and flats. She was never one for dresses.

"Hi," she said, looking at me with a gleam in her blue eyes. "I'll just be a minute." She glanced back into the room. "Do you want to come in?"

I nodded quickly and she opened the door wider, stepping back so I could slip past. But instead of heading inside, I drew the flowers from behind my back, extending them out to her, with a mischievous smile on my face.

"Your favourite," I chuckled, relishing in the roll of her eyes. "Since I know just how much you love flowers."

Bronte chuckled to herself, before taking the flowers from my hand. She sniffed them delicately, screwing her nose up and holding them as far away from her as possible. I laughed, completely in the moment, focused on the interaction between the two of us. It was all I cared about.

"Thank you," she said, not even bothering to feign appreciation. She knew I knew that she disliked flowers with a passion. She knew it was a joke and it warmed my heart to see her playing along. "I will cherish them forever." She walked over to the sink and filled up a glass with water, setting it on the bench. She put the bouquet upright in the cup, pretending to admire them. "Or at least until they die."

I laughed with her as she walked over to the bed, where her purse was sitting surrounded by a plethora of small items. Bronte began to shove them all into the purse, not bothering to be neat or strategic with their placement. I didn't complain though. She stood up twenty seconds later, shooting me an excited smile as she walked toward me.

"So," she began, opening the door and holding it for me. "Where are you taking me for dinner, kind sir."

I blushed hard at her comment, ducking my head as she chuckled from beside me. She knew how to get to me and she never failed to earn a reaction from me. She knew the effect she had.

"Just a pub," I told her, trying to calm my breathing and the redness of my face. "Lemon and I have been there a few times."

Bronte nodded, bumping her shoulder against mine with a grin. "Well, I can't wait," She exclaimed, earning another toothy grin from me. "I can't believe it you so long to do this."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugged. "We've known each other for—what? Almost three years and you only just plucked up the courage to ask me out." She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, with a pointed look on her face. "That's a long time, don't you think?"