ROSES (TeacherxStudent)

PART 2.9 - Ch 20

Baker POV

The door rang but I didn't get up.

My feet were bare on th7e wooden floor. It was being all laid out. Everything was so perfect, too perfect. It was too easy. Stuff like this usually do not drop on your lap, at least not for people like me. The common, average part of the population.

Rose called about the scholarship. My family was pushing me to follow my dreams. Then why wasn't I jumping of excitement?

Another annoying ring and I got my confused ass off the bed. All that ringing was pissing me off.

When I reached I unconsciously,desperately wanted to see Summer on the other side.

That's when I first realised the possibility of this perfect 'arrangement' to be holding me back.

I held the door wide open to reveal the delivery boy. Wasn't that surprising? No, it was the neatly decorated box he was holding out for me to take.

Verifying the success of the delivery was followed by a disgruntled moan.

What are the fuck is this now?

Sitting back down onto the bed, I held the rectangular box. It was light and I could hold it up with one hand. The only thing it could hold was a bottle of wine or an oversized screwdriver.

Lifting it's fancy smooth gold cover off gave me a view of the delicately placed blood red rose.

Again, what the fuck is this?

Summer knows our relationship and where it stands. Right? What if this was just a joke Summer was playing?

It was Summer, obviously. Certainly not a sick pshco, most definitely not. Please God no.

The petals were spread out lavishly but more than half of each of them were stuck to the bud. They were in a deep shade of the most erotic red. Beautiful, inviting, lusting after the receiver.

Oh Rose.

She can afford this now, obviously.

I never payed attention to the flower species and I still don't but there was always something special about these roses.

People hate the idea of common. They go through great measures to have the rarest objects to appear more special, more unique than the rest. Roses were common yet people still wanted it. It spoke to my average being, hoping that one day it would be the same with me.

It became more significant with Rose. Her fucking name made me love the darned flower. It being her favourite flower didn't help my already wave of feelings that rose everytime I saw this particular flora.

With that her thoughts flooded my mind, her words, her laugh, her voice. The simple gesture had me back under her twisted grasp. Wrapped around her pretty fingers. It used feel more blissful.

Th door bell rang snapping me out of my europhia.

Please be Rose.

I knew. I knew if it was her, I would held my arms for her, forever ready to take her back into my life. Into my thoughts, my heart, my veins as if she wasn't already.

'Hey,' she sighed.

'Summer?'

She had a habit of showing up uninvited. It was against everything we've decided in the earlier days. But her habit of pulling me back from Rose stopped me from mentioning that. I was grateful to say the least.

'Are you gonna make me stand out here?' her voice was weak but she still managed to sound like a mean bitch.

'Right,' I stepped away leaving her to close the door by herself. It probably looked very ungentlemanly but I was sure she knew how to close a door.

'You got a secret admirer?' she dropped next the box.

'Something like that,' I never told her about Rose. It never came to that point where I needed to. I shouldn't have to now.

'You two must be close,' it was unusual to see her not jealous.

'Why do you say that?' How do girls do that. Hit it right in the target? Right in the feels.

'This person calls you Josh. It's written on the box,' Oh.

I leaned to see my nickname right beneath the stem of the the rose. It was in cursive and inked in gold. This is awfully, somewhat, romantic. I got sucked into my emotions deeper.

'Why are the thorns cut?' she asked out of pure curiosity.

'Really?' the stems were ridded off all its thorns. 'I didn't notice that,'

'What's a rose without its thorns?'

'More touchable,' I reasoned.

She looked at me like the dumb idiot I was. For more reasons than one if she only knew.

'But that's the beauty of roses, I guess,'
I was beginning to enjoy this absolutely stupid conversation about flowers. I hoped my words sounded philosophical as they did in my head l.
'Yeah, I guess,'

I continued with whatever bull everyone seems to say effortlessly.

'Every rose has its thorn,'

But then she spoke and those words effected me more than she will ever know.

'No. Every thorn has its rose. '

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People hate the idea of common. They go through great measures to have the rarest objects to appear more special, more unique than the rest.