Page 7 of Eye of the Beholder
“We’re neighbors,” Cohen says, still grinning cheekily. The action pulls at his scar, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “We played together when we were still in diapers—”
“Shutup,” I say. “Please,” I add, since I’m a professional and am supposed to be selling flowers.
“Oh, yeah?” Jack says, smiling. His dimples are adorable. “I bet you’ve got some good stories about Cohen. Where do you go to school? Blessed Trinity High?”
My face, which I’m certain was already red, goes even redder, and I can feel my heart plummet in my chest. Where do I go to school? We have classes together. We’ve had classes together foryears. He doesn’t recognize me? I mean, I never expected him to know my name or my hopes and dreams and fears. But—
My railing thoughts screech to a halt as I realize Jack and Cohen are both looking at me expectantly. Cohen must see something in my face that screams for the need of rescue, because he says,
“Jack wants to ask a girl out. Do you have any romantic flowers?”
Ask a girl out. Of course he wants to ask a girl out.
I am such an idiot.
All right. I can be upset later. Right now I just need to be professional. I can do that. I can look Jack Freeman in the eye and pretend I haven’t been crushing on him for years only to find out that he literally was not aware I existed.
“We have lots of romantic flowers,” I say, and miraculously I’m able to pull out a smile as I lean against the counter a bit. “But do you know what her favorite flowers are? Those will be more romantic than anything else.”
Jack looks at Cohen, whose voice is flat as he says, “She likes red roses.”
“Red roses, then,” Jack says to me. He leans in a bit, almost conspiratorially, and says, “Cohen gave me the go-ahead to ask out his ex.” He grins, looking proud of himself.
Disbelief floods through me. Virginia? Jack is asking outVirginia? She’s insane! Shewouldlike red roses. I glance at Cohen, and he nods discreetly, looking as though he questions Jacks’ judgment.
Iquestion Jack’s judgment.
But then again, Virginia is probably on her best behavior with someone like Jack. And she’s certainly gorgeous.
The injustice.
“Right,” I say, finding my voice. “Red roses are—” Cliché? Overdone? Overrated? “—lovely. I’d recommend just one. Lots of people think it’s more romantic.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Jack says.
“Great,” I say, my smile still in place. It might look maniacal at this point. I can’t be sure. “Is that all?”
“Yep,” Jack says, pulling his wallet from a back pocket and slapping it on the counter in between us. He pulls out a card and taps it on the counter, waiting for me to ring him up.
What would it be like to be so confident in your name that you let anyone see your credit card? It sounds nice.
When Jack has paid, I find him a red rose. I’m tempted to get the one that’s slightly wilted, but because I am a mature woman, I do not. I give him one that’s perfectly blossomed and radiant, and I pretend that he’s not going to give it to someone who’s not me.
“Good luck,” I say, but Jack is already turning his back to walk away, and maybe it’s for the best—I can’t be sure my smile is convincing, because I can feel my chin trembling slightly.
Did I mention I’m an idiot?
I mean, what, did I expect him to like me? Have a crazy crush on me? Secretly be pining for me?
No. Of course not. So why do I feel like crying?
“I’ll be there in a sec,” Cohen says to Jack, who’s almost out of the shop by now. Jack raises one hand in acknowledgment before swinging open the door and stepping out into the evening. The little bell over the door jingles, sounding far too cheery.
Cohen leans forward, and I get a whiff of his cologne. He smells good—familiar. He props his elbows on the counter and frowns up at me. “What’s going on?” he says.
“Nothing,” I say in a tone that most definitely conveys that I’m lying. I’ve never been a good liar. Lies require confidence, and I am not confident.
Cohen snorts, raising an eyebrow. “Okay.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me. He straightens up and is just turning around when I blurt out,
