Smitten

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Back when people couldn’t say what was on their minds, they’d send flowers to say it for them.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, a really obvious one is roses. If you give someone a bouquet of yellow roses, for instance, that means friendship. But if you send red ones, you’re making it clear you’re interested in a red-hot romance.”

“Hubba-hubba.”

I laugh. “There are lots more examples than that, but that’s a little taste.”

“Very cool. Huh. You learn something new every day.”

“When I was a kid, I was obsessed with flowers and their meanings. I used to pretend I was a lady in Victorian times, fending off my suitors, all of whom were romancing me with an endless barrage of flower bouquets.”

He chuckles. “What are your favorite flowers?”

“It depends on my mood. I do love roses. They smell so good. Lilies, too. Peonies. Like I said, it depends on my mood. The occasion. The season.”

“Ally!” Mom calls from the kitchen.

“Shoot, I have to go. My mom goes to bed around ten. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“Go. The sooner we hang up, the sooner we can start our second date.”

I feel like I’m going to pass out from excitement. Our second date? “Okay, well, bye, Fish. Matthew.”

“Bye, Little Lioness. Can’t wait to see you later.”

We disconnect the call and, even though I know my mother is waiting for me, I nonetheless sit for a long moment on my bed, replaying the highlights of our conversation, over and over again, in my head. Finally, though, when the smell of Mom’s dinner lures me, I get up and jeté across my room like I used to do as a kid in ballet class, feeling like last night’s heartache is already a distant memory.

Twelve

Fish

I yawn and force my eyelids open. I know I should have let Alessandra hang up from our video chat two hours ago, right after our movie ended, to let her get some sleep before her early morning flight. But I’ve been having too much fun with her to do the selfless thing.

I turn on my side in my bed, taking my laptop with me. “How are you getting to the airport in the morning?”

“You mean in four hours?” She smiles. “Georgina. My mom has to work, so Georgina said she’d take me.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Oh, Fish. You’re the sweetest. But I live in the boondocks, remember? Georgina has tomorrow off from work and said she really wants to take me, so we can say our goodbyes in person.”

I’m feeling irrationally crestfallen. I want to say my goodbyes to you in person, too, I think. But, of course, I don’t say it. I’m tempted to ask which airline, which terminal, just so I can drive there to say goodbye in person, even if I’m not the one driving her . . . But I refrain. An early morning first kiss on the curb at LAX, when we’re both sleep deprived and rushed, isn’t the magical moment I’ve been fantasizing about. And certainly not the one she deserves.

Alessandra yawns and rubs her droopy eyes. “Do you know if 22 Goats has any upcoming tour dates in Boston?”

“The next tour dates aren’t set yet. They’re planning everything now. For the next couple months, we’re going to be hunkered down in LA, working on our next album. Otherwise, I’d already have booked a flight to visit you in Boston in the next couple weeks.”

Her droopy eyes suddenly shoot open. “Really?”

“If I could.”

“Wow. I’d love to see you, whenever you’re able to visit. Any time.”

My heart rate is quickening. “It might be a couple months. Just because of my schedule. But, I promise, I’ll come.”

“That’s so exciting,” she says, but she’s yawning even as she says the words.

I chuckle. “You’d better get some sleep, cutie. I’ve been selfish to keep you up this long.”

“I’ve been having fun.”

“Me, too. But it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

She yawns again. “Okay.”

“Let me know when you’ve landed safely, okay? So I don’t worry.”

She bats her eyelashes. “Okay.”

“And let me know how your audition at the coffeehouse on Tuesday goes.”

She lifts her head from her pillow, her mouth in the shape of an “O.” “I can’t believe you remembered about that!”

“Dude, I already told you. I remember everything you’ve said.”

She sinks back onto her pillow and swoons. “Oh, Fish. Matthew.”

“Are you going to perform that new song you wrote at your audition?”

“No, I was thinking I’d perform a cover. Maybe even my version of ‘Delightful Damage.’”

“I really think you should sing your new song at the audition. That’s what’s going to impress them the most. Although I’d absolutely love to hear your version of ‘Delightful Damage’ some time.”

“After you sing it to me, maybe. When are you going to sing to me, dude?”

“After you sing me ‘Blindsided.’ We’ve got a deal, remember?”