Sugar and Stems

Chapter 2

Azalea

“Uh… I’d like some flowers,”

He looked around, hands still in his pockets, and I tried not to fidget too much. My brain was doing that thing where it wanted to narrate his every move like some sort of wildlife documentary.

“Flowers,” I repeated, nodding, because yes, he’s in a flower shop. That’s helpful information. “Right. Okay. For… someone special, I’m guessing?” I blurted, immediately regretting it. Why do I always blurt?

“My sister,” he said.

Ah. Not a first-date bouquet, not a party centerpiece. Caring. Protective. My inner monologue practically wrote a novel about him before I could stop it.

“Of course! That makes total sense. So do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Color? personality? Flowers have personalities, by the way. Not that I’m judging anyone who thinks they don’t, but I can absolutely match personalities.”

He blinked at me, amused. “She likes… cheerful ones. Bright colors, I think.”

I nodded, mentally listing every flower I had ever seen in my life. “Bright, cheerful, smiley… got it. Daisies. Tulips. Ranunculus. Sunflowers. Well, maybe not sunflowers. Too big. Too aggressive.” I gestured vaguely at the buckets. “Here, have a look.”

He leaned slightly forward, scanning the flowers. “Those look… nice.”

“Nice?” I said, letting out a small laugh. “You can do better than nice. We’re aiming for ‘makes her heart do a little happy dance’.”

He chuckled quietly. “Then I’ll trust you.”

He watched, quietly, letting me go on. I realized halfway through that maybe I had talked a little bit too much, but my brain refused to stop. “Sorry. I get a little… carried away. I swear I’m normally slightly more composed.”

He smiled again. “It’s okay. I think she’ll like anything you choose.”

I beamed. “Okay! I’ve got this. I mean, I’ve only had two real customers so far, and—well—one didn’t buy anything, and the other… long story. But that’s history. History is boring anyway.”

I started arranging a small bouquet — tulips, daisies, and a couple of bright ranunculus for punch. “So… um… do you want a ribbon? A card? A pun? No?”

He laughed lightly. “No pun. Just flowers, please.”

I nodded, secretly thrilled he didn’t mind my chatter. “Done! Can you imagine the joy on her face?”

He examined the bouquet, and gave a slight nod. “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

I bagged it carefully, still rambling as I tied the ribbon. “Thank you! Really, thank you. You’re officially my first real customer who bought something. And not just because you felt sorry for me. Not that anyone ever feels sorry for me. Well… maybe the pigeons. But they don’t tip.”

He smiled, paid, and left. I watched him go, my chest oddly warm.

I sighed, leaning against the counter. “Okay, flowers delivered. Human connection: mildly successful. Self-esteem: slightly inflated. Next customer: I’m ready for you"

Bring it on, world.