Petal [h.s.]

FIFTEEN - TEAR YOU APART

*This chapter involves a short scene with an emotionally/physically abusive parent and may be triggering to some.

Arabella's words played in my mind all day long.

"All of your secrets are safe with me."

The day was busy. More and more tourists were arriving in town and the boardwalk was filling up earlier each day. I was glad to be occupied, I thought it would keep my mind straight. Then someone would walk in and order a predominantly pink bouquet and my mind would go straight to her.

When they ordered tulips, I thought of her. Roses, I thought of her. Daylilies, I thought of her. Daisies or peonies or poppies-my mind went right to her. Every time I had to look at pink flower petals, I thought about her.

I began to collect the pink flowers that I couldn't sell, placing them in a small pile. My fingers itched to start the process of drying and pressing them. My mind was running crazy with the idea: I have an old journal upstairs, that dark leather one. It would be perfect. I could write in the margins, the names of the flowers or little pieces of poetry, and I could gift it to her.

It was that thought that rattled me. The way I was thinking of gifts to give her when she wasn't the person I should be giving things to. Those thoughts were the exact reason why I had been trying to keep her at arm's length, why I had to hold onto the hatred I felt for her. And I did hate her, I swore that I did.

This feeling I got in the pit of my stomach-it had to be hate. What else would make me feel this sick at the sight of her? What else would make my stomach turn every time I caught a whiff of her perfume? What else would make me feel dizzy when I heard her name?

When I saw her in the coffee shop, I couldn't help myself. I knew I was being a dick to her for no reason, but it was like something had possessed me. I couldn't leave her alone. I knew I'd get my feelings hurt and I'd hurt hers, because that's all we ever seemed to do with one another, but I craved it. I craved the interaction with her. I craved the way she looked at me when she was annoyed or angry. I craved the electricity I felt between us whenever we argued.

I was embarrassed by my attempt to kiss her-embarrassed by her rejection, even though she was right to do so. I wouldn't make that mistake again. I was done putting myself into positions where I got stuck alone with her. I only made a fool of myself every time and was unable to stop my body from reacting to her. I had to start using my brain.

Jessie and I made up soon after her shitty comment about my shop. She apologized profusely and I sort of believed her this time. She seemed genuinely sorry and the sex we had after making up was surprisingly good, better than it had been in a while. It had me convinced that things were looking up for us and that we would be able to make it if we just kept putting in effort. In order to give Jessie my full efforts, I had to keep Arabella far away from me. But it was proving to be impossible with her right next door.