Flowergirl

✿✽❀~ six ~❀✽✿

                          w  e  e  k   6   :   c  a  c  t  i

All week.

I had been trying all week to figure out what flowergirl's hint could possibly have meant and where I knew that tune she was humming from. But alas, Saturday rolled around and I still had no idea what her name was.

"This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet..."

I could tell that she hadn't expected me to get it, and so that had made me want to figure it out all the more. I wanted to prove her wrong and see her face light up when I greeted her by her name. Except that I still couldn't figure it out.

My mother was the first person I had asked. I didn't tell her what it was for though, because she already knew flowergirl's name so she most likely would have just told me. And for some reason, I didn't want to cheat. I didn't want to Google the phrase or just ask Mum what her name was. I wanted to figure it out on my own and know that I alone brought myself one step closer to her.

I sat in the living room with the tv on even though I was paying no mind to it. I was still thinking, hoping that if I racked my brain hard enough, I could remember where I heard that tune from. The doorbell rang and I groaned, falling onto my back and covering my eyes with my hands.

"Miles?"

I sighed, pulling myself up and leaning over the couch to smile at Mum who was sitting at the dining table, reading through some work papers. The doorbell rang again and she tipped her reading glasses down, peering up at me through the top of them. "You're not going to get the door?" she asked. "It's probably J, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I said, sighing again as I dragged myself off the couch. I wanted to see J, I really did, I just didn't want to show up empty handed.

Mum had always told me that I had a big ego and too much pride along with it. She told me that it could have been good for me, but I was only overly-proud when it came to the wrong things. I needed to be okay with being wrong and not succeeding sometimes because nobody else expected me to, so there was no reason I needed to expect that of myself.

"Still haven't figured your little secret out?" she asked as I trudged over to the door.

I shook my head and she chuckled, laughing as she turned back to her readings. "It's just as well too, I guess," she said. "Because if there's anybody it's okay to fail in front of, it would be her."

I rolled my eyes. "How reassuring."

Slowly, I opened the front door to the house and as flowergirl came into view, I found it hard to believe that this—me seeing her every Saturday morning at roughly the same time—had become a routine, because every single time I opened this door to her, my stomach knotted around itself as if it were the first time I was seeing her.

Every. Blasted. Time.

And as I looked at her standing by her cart with her trusty fanny pack on her hips and that fucking smile on her lips, every bone inside my body was begging for me to just reach out and touch her. I just wanted to feel her skin on mine...a hand, an arm, her shoulder, her neck...I just wanted to be close to her. To touch or kiss her—or better yet, have her want to kiss me.

The thought of flowergirl wanting to be with me was barely enough to keep me sane because I knew that I was slowly going crazy, talking to her every week and then having to watch her walk away and drag my heart along behind her.