Mug Pie

Roses and Thorns (Part 1)

Author's Note - Hello readers! If you have enjoyed reading so far, do leave votes and comments, I appreciate each and every one so so much. The following chapters contain the original drafts of Roses and Thorns, Life Extension Program, and Ideal World. The revamped versions are available on my profile. Feel free to read either. XOXO

Dahlia's favorite part about her mother's flower shop was the center-piece table. Compared to the other dozens of shelves of modest potted plants and soft-hued flowers, this table held the showiest pieces. They were a dramatic arrangement of sizable flowers with lush petals, held together in a chaotic tangle of ribbons and laces.

It was near this table that Dahlia first laid her eyes upon Anya. 

The sunlight was streaming through the floor-length windows that day, adding a rich sheen to her pale skin and waist-length black hair. She was wearing a button-up navy blue shirt and skinny jeans, which complimented her tall and slender structure. She had a calm and breezy way about her. Spoke unrushed, smiled easily, walked nonchalantly, like everything was at a standstill and she had all the time in the world.

Despite her initial captivation, Dahlia was quick to forget all about the beautiful girl in the shop. That is, until she met her again at school. The butterflies had already begun fluttering in her stomach by then. Soon first-period algebra classes were half spent listening to the teacher and half spent staring at the back of Anya's head.

After a lot of awkward good mornings, acknowledging nods, and polite conversations, it was safe to assume that Dahlia had developed a crush. More than a crush, even. Thoughts about Anya consumed her. She overanalyzed every single interaction they had, replayed all the conversations they had (and didn't have, for that matter) like an old movie reel. 

 Valentine's Day rapidly approached. Dahlia finally mustered up the courage to confess her feelings. She scrawled down why she liked her and rehearsed her lines in front of the mirror weeks in advance. On the day before the 14th, she stayed up late into the night, pouring her chocolate mixture into heart-shaped molds and letting them cool.

Despite all the preparations, there was a slight problem - nothing went as planned on the 14th.

The day started off with Dahlia jolting awake to her mother, Eleanor's overly cheery wake-up call.

"Rise and shine! Got dozens of new batches of flowers fresh from the market this morning!" Eleanor looked as excited as she sounded, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like threaded gold. "Can't wait for the rush hour today! Come, help me make the bouquets."

Dahlia cursed under her breath. She had completely forgotten about helping around the shop.

"I have to head to school a bit early today."

Disappointed clouded Eleanor's face. "Why? It's Valentine's Day. We have got a lot of work to do. You can skip school like you do every year."

"There's an important class. I can't miss the first period. Sorry, mom."

Eleanor tapped her chin. "Well, the earlier you finish making the bouquets the earlier you can head to school. How does that sound?"

Better than the former option. Dahlia jumped out of bed, frantically brushed her teeth, got dressed, and headed downstairs. The floor was covered with baskets of roses, purple orchids, stargazer lilies, pink tulips, sunflowers, white daisies, and hydrangeas. They filled the room with a scent that was too strong to be pleasant.

Sitting on the table, Dahlia began with the first batch of flowers. She chose a large classic rose as her central piece garnished it with other smaller stems of flowers around it. When satisfied with the arrangement, she carefully wrapped translucent ribbons and beads around them, all the while keeping a close eye on the overhead clock ticking by.

Eleanor hummed as she flipped pancakes over the stove. Its sickly sweet scent got lost in the other potion of smells in the room.

Dahlia had finished five bouquets by the time Eleanor had come over for inspection. She picked up one of them. The transparent, plastic covers rustled as she turned them around in her hands. With a swift motion, she dumped it into the dustbin. 

"Mom..."

Eleanor slammed her hand against the table.

"It's so...boring. You usually have better taste than this. Try being a bit more creative with it." She pointed towards a basket. "Keep the white and red theme, but use the darkest reds with the whitest whites to make the contrast more dramatic. Also, you haven't touched the tulips yet. They'd look really good here."

"I can just rearrange them again, no need to throw them away," Dahlia held onto the remaining three bouquets, the muscle in her jaw tensing up. Please be normal just for one day, she prayed to no one in particular. "And I need to leave soon too. Don't make me start all over again."

Eleanor scooped them out of her hands. With a strained smile, she went on, "Nonsense. If you mess up, you always start with a fresh canvas. Let the ruins go to ruin. I don't want to be cheap at the expense of my creative vision."

A creative vision like that is the reason we're broke. Looking towards the clock again, her nerves spiking up by the minute, Dahlia set more baskets on the table. I'm just wasting time. She took a deep breath and started again, her hands moving at lighting speed, her head filtering through all the possible combinations that would look good.

**

Dahlia rapped her long nails against the table as Eleanor circled around her, eyeing the heap of thirty or so bouquets. Letting out a low whistle, she clapped softly. "A work of art. The customers are going to love this!"

Not wasting another second, Dahlia sprinted out of the kitchen and rushed up the stairs to retrieve her bag. 

Standing in front of her bedroom mirror for a few seconds, she smoothed out her skirt and attempted to tame her messy blonde curls. Hastily grabbing the strap of her school bag with one hand and applying a peach lip gloss with the other, she stumbled out of the room and bolted down the stairs.

She needed to get her feelings across to Anya. For some reason, she thought that if she didn't do it today, she would never be able to do it again. And so she ran.