la vie en rose, trent alexander-arnold

v

talking flowers

as shameful as it may seem, maisie loves talking to her plants. as soon as there is a moment of calm in the shop and margaret is not working alongside her, the girl has a field day. from lilacs to tulips, great conversations take place and so immersed in them, she often doesn't hear the bell ringing to announce the arrival of a customer. yet, today she would have liked to hear it to avoid a discomfiture.

especially when a mocking voice that she recognises all too well rises in the air and a question is asked, "are the flowers named too?"

trent faces her with hands in his pockets, wearing a khaki coat that only fits him and a backpack of a luxury brand on his shoulders that maisie could never afford to buy. he's gorgeous, and the girl curses herself: why do the most embarrassing moments of her life always take place when trent sets foot in her shop?

a hole under her feet where she could bury herself for the rest of her life would not go amiss for the girl who feels her cheeks flush and her shoulders slump with embarrassment. shyly raising her gaze higher, towards him, she sees no trace of judgement. on the contrary, a light of amusement dances in the boy's caramel pupils, unable to miss how much it glows.

"hello, maisie," his sweet voice mingles with the scent of his neck, which maisie is able to smell, standing not far from him, and she thinks she'll faint for a brief moment.

"please, pretend you didn't see or hear anything," she comes close to joining her hands in prayer, begging him to spare her from a prolonged moment of embarrassment.

since he doesn't want to upset her further, trent pinches his thumb and forefinger together and pretends to seal his mouth with both fingers. this causes maisie to chuckle, immediately making trent lift the corners of his mouth.

"i'm as silent as grave, don't worry," he jokes, and she thanks him sincerely before heading for the counter.

once behind it, she utters her usual words, "white roses?"

trent nods and confirms with a smile, "white roses."

then she gets busy with the bouquet, and their daily conversations resume. today, trent tells her how his car broke down the day before yesterday, and maisie is captivated. in fact, he could recite the alphabet to her and she would still be hanging on his every word. later on, he changes the subject, surely to liven up the conversation he seems to be eager to have with her on this quiet afternoon.

pointing to the yellow roses hanging behind the girl's back, he wonders, "what is their signification?"

maisie, knowing roses inside out, happily tells the boy how the yellow rose refers to sunshine, warmth, and joy; it is the rose of friendship par excellence. but she does not forget to warn him about misunderstandings since the yellow rose, in love, also refers to jealousy and infidelity.

during all her explanations, trent concentrates and nods attentively. then maisie goes on to explain the meaning of red roses and pink roses.

"red roses symbolize passion, it indicates that you have had a love at first sight," maisie explains and a sad little pout falls on her face: she has never received red roses, the last straw for a florist. she then resumes rather quickly, "pink roses evoke attachment, tenderness, and softness. they are the most common and the first to have been cultivated."

shortly after, maisie proceeds to explain the possible mixtures of roses, and trent thanks her for all this information, which has only enriched him. finally, their conversation drifts off into other horizons and, as no bells interrupt them, they do not stop and laugh for many more minutes in the quiet of the shop.

trent soon comments on it to maisie who shrugs, "tuesdays are quiet, i'm often bored on this day."

"it's okay, you've got your flowers to talk to," trent observes her reaction for a few moments after his teasing and when an offended look paints the girl's face, he doesn't hold back any longer and laughs a melodious laugh that comes over the noise of the radio.

pointing a threatening finger at him, maisie warns him, "you are never allowed again in my shop."

holding his hand to his heart, trent pretends to be hurt by her words, "gosh no, how am i gonna buy my white roses now?"

maisie's smile turns more neutral as she, who was enjoying the moment so much, suddenly remembers that, the white roses, are for ava.

with a frown on her face, she tries her best not to sound cold and replies nonchalantly, "there are plenty of other florists in liverpool, you'll find them."

trent probably doesn't seem to notice her change of mood as he continues in humor, "but they'll never be as good as you," he winks at her as he catches the bouquet in his hands and maisie tries not to melt on the spot.

she should start a tally of how many times he's made her blush.

in the meantime, the man finally bids her goodbye and maisie has plenty of time to breathe once he's out the door —it's as if she's suffocating when he's near her.

a few moments later, once she has recovered from her emotions, it is margaret who walks through the front door of the belrose shop with a big smile on her face. that big smile then turns into a suspicious look at the stupid expression on her granddaughter's face.

"what's his name?" the old woman simply asks and maisie is forced to tell her everything, unable to keep trent a secret any longer.

the girl details her confusion at the flirtatious impression they seem to share but the problem that seems to be ava, the boy's supposed girlfriend for who he comes to buy a bouquet of white roses every week.

her grandmother, after hearing her side of the story, shakes her head disapprovingly, "ha, men. do what i do, stay away from them! it's the secret of my longevity," margaret finally gives her a little wink and maisie doesn't hold back from giggling.

despite her adoration for her grandmother, maisie would have preferred a different answer. but she resolves to accept it: trent is simply not for her.

— notes.
i'm curious about
what gifts have you
guys received? :))