Chapter 7
At least three sets of eyes are on her, and Clarke feels ready to bolt out the door – with or without the rose. But someone must have super glued her feet to the floor because even a crowbar won’t get her to budge at the moment.
She feels the heat rise in her cheeks and that tiny little organ in her chest begin to hammer. Thud. Thud. Thud.
It distracts her from the murmurs of the bakers huddled nearby who are all theorizing about who this mystery blonde woman is and why the bakery owner looks at her like she’s the first woman she’s ever seen.
Lexa’s expression begins to soften in a way that makes Clarke’s palms sweat, and she resists the urge to wipe them on the side of her pants. But she becomes self conscious about their dampness when Lexa takes her by the hand and extracts her from everyone’s view.
“Please let us have the kitchen alone for a few minutes.”
The three bakers stop their work immediately at Lexa’s request and shuffle out of the kitchen without a word, but the wide eyes stares they give Clarke as they pass by do not go unnoticed by her.
“Were you looking for this?” Lexa asks Clarke a second time, but it somehow still catches her by surprise.
“Yes,” she croaks. It’s an ugly sound, like cobwebs were stuck in her throat.
“What were you planning to do with the rose in the box?”
Great. She looked inside.
Clarke inhales sharply and tries her best not to laugh at herself.
“It was…initially for you,” she responds, fully expecting Lexa to laugh at her miserable attempt at romance. But if Clarke hadn’t known any better, she’d say that Lexa looks like she’s trying to suppress a smile.
“Initially? Have you decided to give it to someone else?”
With a glint in her eyes, Lexa opens the box a second time for inspection, and Clarke winces at the third petal fallen from the rose.
“No, it’s just that…this one is no good anymore. I can get you another one.” Clarke says, flustered. “I think the flower shop lady likes me, so it won’t be an issue.”
Words start to spill out of her mouth uncontrollably after that.
“Not that I will only get you flowers when they’re free. Just that, this one was and…”
“Can I keep it?” Lexa picks up the rose and brings it close to her nose. “Mmmm.”
“Really?” Clarke did not intend to sound so gullible, but there are things you really can’t take back. And feelings and flowers are one of them.
“Of course. Orange roses would have been my first choice.” She walks over to the sink to fill a glass cup with water. “And this one in particular is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”
She sets the cup with the rose in a safe spot on the counter and then tucks the three stray rose petals from the box in her pocket, grinning when Clarke’s face changes in confusion.
“If the flower’s mine now, so are the petals,” Lexa teases. “Unless you don’t want me to have the rose.”
“No!” Clarke says a bit too quickly and too loudly and she presses a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. But her exclamation has already alerted the people in the front as a head pokes through the door cautiously.
“Not yet,” Lexa says, eyes un-removed from Clarke’s face. The girl withdraws her head quickly at her words. “Well, then, since you brought me a flower, it would be impolite for me not to treat you out to dinner.”
It’s a tad silly, considering how Clarke just admitted to being in cahoots with the flower shop owner who provided the rose for free. But somewhere between a shared cab and an orange rose, Lexa’s become quite smitten. So free or purchased. Drenched in the rain or falling apart in a pastry box. She likes them all, as long as these things come from this girl.
“Like a date?”
“A date.”
Lexa leans in and plants a sweet kiss on Clarke’s cheek like it’s the most normal thing in the world for her to do.
“I know you love éclair’s,” she teases, “But I was thinking maybe that Italian restaurant on 9th St. tonight?”
“Yes, of course.”
If Clarke is honest with herself, she’s way past eager at this point.
---
“It worked! It worked!”
Clarke is unable to contain her excitement about her upcoming date with Lexa as she practically skips down the sidewalk with a grin on her face.
What worked?
Strangers walk past by and then turn around with confused stares as they too wonder what actually worked.
“It worked! It worked! Even the petal!”
Octavia’s voice grows more impatient on the line as Clarke fails to explain herself again, just keeping to the same six or seven words.
What worked, Clarke? Pedal? Are you going biking?
Clarke manages to skip her way over to the floral shop while recounting the events of the past hour at the bakery to Octavia. And her friend manages to gasp and laugh with her a total of four times during their conversation.
“Who is that?” The customer inside asks the shop owner as she watches Clarke talk excitedly into her phone in front of the shop.
The shop owner smiles knowingly, “A new regular.”
---
As for Lexa’s part, she spends the remainder of the afternoon surrounded by pastries and curious bakers who look like they have a hundred questions for her hanging on their lips. She pays them no mind, though, and they in turn back away from their own curiosities.
But they do notice that every time their boss goes to the back and sees the rose, a smile grows on her face. They also make a note of how she checks her watch anxiously each time. However, what they don’t see is that when she’s out front and the rose is out of sight, Lexa would tuck her hand in the pocket of her chef jacket to feel for the petals.
Just to make sure that they’re still there.