Chapter 6
She chose to stay away for some time, hoping that it’d make her appear less eager. A week if she remembers correctly because the city received six consecutive days of rain and today was the first sighting of clear weather. Even public transportation proved to be friendly to her today.
“Hmmm…”
There is a flower shop right outside of the train station that she never noticed before this day. Clarke takes four steps back and peer into the shop window. She wonders aloud if gifting flowers is still considered romantic or if flower shops only exist now to make money off weddings and funerals.
“They’re kind of like obligatory decorations at this point. Either there for some kind of celebration or mourning,” she says to herself.
“You looking for anything in particular, little lady?” The shop owner is an elderly woman about two inches tall with cotton white hair.
“Oh, no, thank you. I was just looking.” Showing up with flowers would defeat the whole purpose of staying away for a week, she presumes. And Octavia would be sorely disappointed in her after their talk a few nights ago about how chasing after a pretty girl in the rain only creates a scene in the ER when she comes back looking like a wet puppy.
But that doesn’t stop Clarke from lingering there for a few seconds too long.
“Every girl wants flowers,” the elderly lady smiles softly at Clarke. “Come. Let me show some of the roses we just got today.”
And, just like that, she is lured into the flower shop.
“Has anyone ever told you that you would be great at selling used cars?”
The woman laughs heartily at Clarke’s words.
“That’s how I met my husband, darling.”
Clarke doesn’t know why she’s surprised, but the lady seems to have a good laugh at the shock that registers on her face.
“It was the first car I ever sold. And I sold it to him.”
Oddly romantic, she thought. Clarke mirrors her smile.
“I hope that this girl will appreciate the flowers. Is it your first time buying flowers for a girl?”
A silly part of her wants to deny it like it’s some question about a grade school crush. But if she was being honest with herself, the stupid butterflies in her stomach were becoming very inconvenient.
“God, what am I doing.”
The woman looks at her with sympathetic eyes and laughs softly. “Here.” She picks out a single rose from a bouquet and hands it to Clarke. “Come back for a bouquet when you get the girl.”
Clarke walks another four blocks with the orange rose, switching from holding it in her left hand to her right several times before settling for carefully tucking it away into the pocket of her sweater. The last thing she needs to do is make a scene in a room full of strangers. But Clarke wonders how indiscreet giving a pretty girl flowers is in the first place.
Jesus, Octavia’s going to be so disappointed in her when she finds out, but Clarke practically forgets every word of caution Octavia’s given her at this point. All she’s able to think about is how much she misses the smell of pastries and soft music in good company. You’ve been there. Let me be a fool.
The first person she sees is Lexa, who conveniently makes her way to the front just as Clarke walks in. She confesses that she finds the girl a tad too attractive to be hiding away behind that wall.
Lexa picks her out from the crowd just as easily as well. “Clarke.”
This causes Clarke to pat her pocket again. Good, the rose is still there.
“It’s nice to see you again. Did you come for your umbrella?”
The question deeply embarrasses Clarke more than it should.
“No, I….just stopped by to grab an éclair and to say hello.” The answer isn’t too far from the truth.
“Oh, I see. Can’t stay away from here already.” And neither is that.
They linger there shyly for a few seconds before Lexa finally invites Clarke behind the counter.
“It’s a bit crowded out front. You don’t have anywhere to be soon, do you?”
“No I don’t.” In fact, the only thing she had planned for today was this. She wasn’t sure how’d she survive their meeting, so she didn’t think about making evening plans.
“Sorry, we ran out of eclairs, but they’re making a fresh batch right now. I’ll show you.”
They snake their way to the back, bumping into bakers left and right at every turn, and each time, it gives Clarke a minor heart attack.
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
Clarke clutches at her pocket again and answers breathlessly, “No, I’m fine.”
“Claustrophobic?” Lexa asks, unconvinced.
“Nah.” Clarke leans back against the workbench as casually as someone hiding a flower in her pocket can at this point.
“Okay…wait here for a second.”
Lexa turns around to ask another baker to retrieve some eclairs cooling from the fridge. Meanwhile, Clarke checks on the orange rose in her pocket.
It’s a sad sight to behold when she looks inside. Somewhere between three bakers, she’s lost two petals. If she continues at this rate, it won’t look like a rose by the time it’s in Lexa’s hand. If she decides to give Lexa the rose, that is.
Clarke’s face twists at the thought and she looks back at Lexa, who is now telling the baker something important about Danishes.
She takes the opportunity to remove the sad flower from her pocket and set it inside a small pastry box she found on the counter. She pushes the box aside, away from plain sight, hoping to figure out what to do with it later.
“Clarke.”
She jumps at the sound of her name, and Lexa laughs at how terribly frazzled the girl seems today.
“Maybe an éclair will calm your nerves down a bit, doc.”
Clarke smiles, and it’s genuine even though her heart is beating a mile a minute.
“Yes, I think that’s what I need right now.” Clarke allows Lexa to lead her away to her office to escape the madness of a morning rush.
“Do you have a fork and knife?” Lexa beams with pride at the question.
“You remember.”
“Of course.”
She’s sure her smile is a few factors too cheesy, but Clarke doesn’t care when the girl in front of her is that cute.
They spend the next thirty minutes in Lexa’s office talking about the different kinds of Danishes her bakery makes. Strangely, Clarke finds the conversation more engaging than most of the things the doctors at the hospital talk about.
“Speaking of Danishes, how is that poor girl with the strawberry makeup?”
Lexa’s response to Clarke’s question is a knowing grin and tilt of the head.
“You’re not telling me that you think Raven’s actually interested in her.”
“Oh, I’m sure she is. Last week, she was just ‘that girl.’ This week, she’s “that girl with that face.”
Clarke laughs. “I can only imagine how confused the poor girl is right now.”
They both carry their laughter out of the office, making the bakers take notice of how their owner’s mood tends to lift whenever Clarke’s around.
Lexa notices their stares and walks over to ask them about the customers while she was tucked away in her office with Clarke.
Shit.
The box is gone. Clarke notices that the box she’s set aside has disappeared. Vanished. Octavia was right, she thought. She sneaks her way past the group, hoping to locate the box without alarming Lexa.
“Hey, there was a pastry box on the work bench in the back. You don’t happen to know where it is, do you?”
The baker says distractedly while counting change, “We were out of boxes, so we had to take some from the back.”
“You mean to tell me that one of these boxes out here might be the one from the back?” Clarke stares down the thirty something pastry boxes stacked on the counter and feels herself go dizzy.
“Yes.”
She starts her way at the top, working so urgently that it catches the attention of every customer in line. But she’s only able to go so fast as each box is so intricately folded. It almost feels comical to her.
“Can I help you with something, Clarke?”
For the second time today, Clarke jumps at her name being called.
“No, I…” She stammers. Lexa grins at her, and Clarke wonders if Lexa’s actually charmed or amused.
“Looking for this?” Lexa reveals a box from behind her back, and in that very moment, Clarke is sure she’s going to combust.