Sunflower

Sunflower, Chapter 1

There's a new girl working down in the mailroom. She's tall, brown, has thick, black curly hair and her eyes are the most gorgeous hazel I've ever seen. With a jawline for days, that perfect smile that makes my heart flutter and not to mention her muscular arms. Oof! Never in my life has anyone caught my attention the way she does. Up until now I always ignored those sinful thoughts about women, but she makes it hard.

I daydream of getting to know her and even holding her hand.

Every day at 1 p.m the elevator dings and out she comes pushing a cart filled with letters and packages. The time is 1:03 p.m and I find myself almost excited to see her. I've even been ordering useless office items so I have an excuse to talk to her and according to Samara today is my lucky day.

"Someone you've been eyeing happens to be doing the same", Samara reads my daily horoscope. "Flower, are you listening?", that's not my real name but I wear a lot of dresses with floral patterns so the nickname's stuck. She continues to read but I don't catch anything she says until she gasps. "Who have you been eyeing?", she asks dramatically. "Is it Spreed? Oh my gosh he's so handsome, I don't blame you", she looks behind me and ducks.

Twelve of four groups of cubicles are separated by half walls forming a plus sign. My cubic space is right in front of my boss's office, Dylan Spreed, regional manager of Bullseye. My job is to answer phone calls and give support, but that's not at all what I do. It's more of listening to angry people complain about things I have no power over. Samara isn't wrong though, I have been eyeing Dylan but that's because I overheard him talking about a company outing at a local bar. I've been secretly hoping there's such an event, it would be the perfect excuse to talk to the new girl.

Ding! My heart skips a beat.

It takes her up to twenty minutes to reach my cubicle since it's all the way in the back. I take this time to check my appearance in the restroom.

At five feet tall, on my tippy toes, I fix my new yellow sweater. Today I've worn one of my favorite dresses, it has a 60's vibe to it and it's the same pretty shade of yellow. On both sides of the white collar are small sunflowers patches. The buttons and belt are a light brown that match my flats. Mother says vanity is the root of all evil in a woman but I indulge. After all, I don't think of myself as unattractive.

My skin is light brown from the lack of sunlight, my hair is black and wavy with half curls. When it's not tied into a french braid, it flows down to my shoulders forming a cape of comfort. Although considered fat by what I've seen in magazines, my body is slightly hourglass shaped. Squeezing my freckled cheeks, widening my buggy brown eyes and puckering my small thick lips, I make myself cringe. With a sigh I pinch my buttoned nose. "Aaaah", I say monotonically mimicking a dull robot.

The restroom door opens wide and in comes Mrs Lupe, a short pudgy woman with a pleasing textbook Latin accent. Startled, I pretend to wash my hands and scurry out giving her an awkward smile.

Making my way to my cubicle, I notice the new girl is a few feet from my desk. She wears a white button up with gray fitting dress pants. It's what she wore yesterday but I'm not bothered by it. In fact, I find myself preferring her messy hair rather than the typical clean cut most have here at work. Hoping to receive her with a smile I'm cut off my Mr Spreed.

He's in his early thirties, tall, well dressed with blonde hair and blue eyes. Like always, his fancy suit reflects his wealth.

"Flower?", he smirks, "that's what everyone here calls you right?" I glance at the new girl and back at him, what's does he want? What does he need? I nod and give him a fake smile. "Hey, next Saturday we're having a company outing, sort of a team-building event at Nando's Karaoke Bar a few blocks from here. Sent an email. I'm hoping I'll see you there", he bites his lower lip.

The news excites me. My smile turns real and I nod too flustered to speak. This is it, the excuse I've been begging God for.

Racing back to my cubicle whilst smiling back at Mr Spreed, I don't notice her standing there and bump onto her back. This makes me stumble backwards but she catches my arm keeping me from falling.

"You alright?", she chuckles. Her smile takes my breath away. My face radiates heat. I'm frozen in place, staring at her with an open mouth. Slowly I look at her hand, still holding mines. "Sorry", she lets go. "No, it's okay", I want to say but instead only a lost "okay" comes out. My face flushes. "Flower", she points at my collar as if she's just realized why people call me that. "Pretty.. the sunflowers, I mean", she corrects herself. I want to nod but all that comes out is a giggle. She chortles.

I hide my face between my fingers, replaying the last ten minutes of my life. The thought of looking stupid makes me cringe desperately wishing I had the courage to jump out a window.

"Guess you gotta burn that pretty dress now", Samara whispers at me from her cubicle.

"Huh?" I look up confused.

"I hear she's one of those lesbians, god knows when's the last time she washed her hands" she gossips.

"That's not very nice", I say under my breath.

"Oh, you know I'm a Christian, not no homophobe or anything. I'm just saying, does she really have to shove it down our throats?"

I wouldn't expect any less from Samara. She seems like the type to call the police on anyone who doesn't fit her standard of an upstanding citizen. Not bothering to fuel her rhetoric I return to my pity party. Sadly, sitting so close to her forces me into a one-way conversation. All I do is nod and occasionally say "oh" in different tones to make her believe I'm listening. It's not until she mentions Mr Spreed's email that my ears perk up. I blush at the thought of inviting the new girl but the sheer memory of looking like an idiot makes me wish I was invisible.

A week later, at  4 p.m, after what feels like the longest day ever, I walk to my mom's old '94 corolla. In the parking lot, among others headed to their cars, I spot her waving goodbye at a coworker. I feel almost jealous of them for being able to speak to her like a normal person. So focused on her, I accidentally bump into someone else's car. To make things worse, its alarm alerts everyone in the vicinity.

Embarrassed, I look up at her. Our eyes meet. My heart jumpstarts into panic and my face turns red hot. I've been trying to avoid her since we last spoke. Cons of having short legs, I'm not able to walk fast enough to my car and soon enough, we cross paths.

"Hey", she calls but I refuse to believe she's talking to me. Why would she? She probably thinks I'm mentally disabled or something. Last time we talked I made myself look like a moron and I'm still suffering from the embarrassment.

"Flower", she says before walking up to me. I freeze in place. "Maya", she puts her hand on her chest, "did you get an email?", she points at nothing over her shoulder, "there's a company event going on tomorrow, not sure if you're going but... uh", she nods almost lost in mid sentence, "was wondering if you were ..going?"

I nod and stare in awe. Her skin is so clear, I can't help but wonder how soft it must be. Also, the top of her shirt is unbuttoned allowing me to see her collarbone. This makes my cheeks flush and I force my eyes to focus on hers. They smile at me along with her lips. Clearing her throat, Maya shakes her head sheepishly. "Uhm.. see you there." A short-lived giggle fit escapes me whilst I watch her leave. She titters. I cringe.

The drive home feels mystifying. I'd scold myself for being awkward if I weren't so busy blushing so much. My bliss doesn't last long though. There is no way my heavily religious parents will ever allow me to go to a bar.

"Fuuuh-dge!"