Wednesdays are a special day. Not for you. No, to you Wednesdays are nothing important except that you get to see him. Long dark hair, impossibly tall and muscular, and the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen grace your store every Wednesday, never before 10 am but never after 10:30. You weren’t stupid. You’d seen him on TV and in various documentaries. He was the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes, and he came to your flower shop every Wednesday morning to buy a bouquet of different flowers. He always took a moment to smell each flower before choosing it for his bundle and he always smiled as you wrapped the selection in cellophane.
This Wednesday is no different. You hear the soft bell from the door and look up from the arrangement you’d been preparing to greet the customer. James returned your smile wordlessly and wandering his usual path around each arrangement and through the tables and shelf piled with fresh flowers. You returned to your work, keeping one eye on him as he chose a simple pink daisy and continued looking. Another customer entered the store and headed straight toward your work station next to the register. “Good morning, what can I get you?” you ask, and the older man asks about one of your arrangements. You remember which one his wife had been admiring the day before and excuse yourself, as you walk around the counter top. You searched for the table you knew the arrangement to be and found yourself standing next to the tall, silent man. You quickly found the bundle of flowers and gave James a small smile as you returned to the man. He smiled gratefully and bought the flowers immediately. As he left the store, you found yourself sneaking a glance at James only to find him already looking at you. A blush crept up your cheeks and you ask, “Finding everything alright?”
“I could use a recommendation? Need one or two more.” You immediately moved onto the shop floor again standing next to him. “Let me see what we’re working with.” You held your hands out for the flowers gathered in James’s arms and quickly transferred them to your own when he offered them. After a moment of silence and moving a few of his selection around, you began looking. He seemed to be going with a pink and orange theme with what he’d already chosen and there was one beautiful flower that would really tie it together. After a moment, you found the rose you’d been looking for, it was light orange in the center and shifted to pink at the edge of each petal and toward the outside of the flower. You rearranged the flowers you held and smiled and you presented the bouquet to James. “Ta-da! I think it kinda ties the color scheme together without being to over the top.” He smiles and reaches for the bouquet.
He pays for the flowers and you manage to say, “see you next week?” before he leaves completely. He turns back to you immediately and responds, “Wouldn’t miss it, doll.” With that James Barnes walks out of your store once again. You float through the day on cloud nine. You’re getting ready to flip the open sign to closed when you see something shocking. James Barnes is jogging across the street directly toward your store. “Hey wait, sorry, I know you’re closing. I don’t want to bother but I have a question.” You stand in shock for a moment before replying, “What is it, James?” He starts a little when you say his name and you realize it’s the first time you’ve actually addressed him by his name. “Bucky, actually. Wait, you know who I am?” You chuckle and nod, leading him into your store, as you say, “of course I do. I’m not stupid. Is that what you wanted to ask me?” Bucky shakes his head, “No, I wanted to know if you’re free tonight?” He seemed awkward and a little shy asking. You couldn’t help the large smile that spread across your face for a moment. “I’d love to. But won’t that special lady you get flowers for every Wednesday be jealous?”
You question was meant to be playful, but Bucky only got confused. “What do you mean?” You blushed and busied your self wiping down your work table. “You know. You come in and get a bouquet every Wednesday, so I figured they were for a special lady.” He cracked a smile and leaned against the table. “Those are for my sister, sweetheart. It’s a tradition. I bring her some at the retirement home every week when I visit. Loves the smell of ‘em,” he explains, still smirking. “Oh god, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed. I feel like such a dick.” “So, are you free tonight?” You smile and look up at him. After a moment, you grab your purse from behind the counter, and hold your hand out. “Lead the way, soldier.”