storytellers

storytellers

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Apr 12, 2015
Brent Lawrence has known Dani Brooks since the fourth grade, when he showed up on her doorstep with a bouquet of pink roses on Valentine's Day. But before he could explain that it was a "welcome to the neighborhood" gift, he had them slapped out of his hands. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Dani had screamed. And then Brent had turned around and sprinted back across the street, tripping over his shoelaces in his driveway, and slamming his front door closed, leaving the tattered roses behind, where they still sat, scattered across Dani's front porch, the next morning. Now, Brent and Dani are sophomores, and they haven't exchanged words since the fourth grade. But when Dani finds pink roses on her doorstep on Valentine's Day, an hour before the Valentine's Dance, four words turn into billions.
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I look out into the parking lot and squint to make sure I'm not going crazy. Walking up with a bouquet of flowers is Justin. He's wearing a muscle tee, and my eyes settle on the part of his tattoo that's not covered up by the plastic holding the flowers. When he reaches me, I feel my face heat up and before I can say anything, he hands me the yellow roses. "I think we need a do over, and I'm not letting you go. But um...here's to friendship until then. If you'll accept." He looks so flustered and unsure of himself as I eye the flowers but don't take them immediately. It takes a long time for me to both find my voice and lose my pride. Finally I do something neither of us expect, and hug him by his neck. "Okay," I whisper, and don't let go.

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