Flowers

21

Michael

She looked so out of place.

The effort she was making to feel comfortable here and not scared was nice, I guess. I appreciated it and it made me feel important to know she was doing all that for me.

We were sitting at the back of a small kebab place a couple minute drive away from my apartment, where I sometimes went to. The food was great, but I was almost positive it wouldn't be up to her standards.

It was getting late and the sun was setting, so it was only a matter of time until something would happen and scare her to death.

I couldn't stop staring at her, I felt like such a creep. Even midst the dirty mustardy-yellow walls and horrid lighting, she literally glowed because of that damn smile.

Once I had gotten our orders, she was pulling out her phone and angling it up to take a photo of our foods. Once that was done, she licked her lips and placed a napkin onto her lap.

"This looks so good!" She began obsessing over the chicken wraps we'd both got, along with sauce and soft drinks, "do you come here often?"

"Sometimes," I managed to mutter out, deciding to just eat and not think too much about her.

She was annoying, way too needy and wouldn't shut up. I still couldn't stop listening to her voice and wanting to be with her. As strange as it feels to be accepting this, she sort of made me happy.

"Could I meet your friends?"

I almost chocked on my food when she asked me that. There was no way.

"Fuck no," I replied nonchalantly, knowing she wouldn't just let it go. I wasn't budging on this one.

"Michael," she offered me a sweet smile, bringing my attention back to her, "please? It would be so nice."

"You wouldn't get along with them," I told her bluntly, not liking the idea of her ever meeting them. On some level I was protecting her, and on another I didn't want her to get too close to me and my life.

"Not to suck my own dick, or anything, but I get along with most people," she giggled to herself happily, "I get along with you, anyway, so how are your friends any different?"

Tom and I were most alike from anybody else that I knew. The only difference was that I had a filter and knew what I definitely shouldn't say to someone like her. He would say the crudest shit about her right to her face and make her uncomfortable.

"Why would you need to meet them?" I couldn't see one good reason for her to or anything good coming from it.

"I just think it would be appropriate," she explained, "since we have something going on and you've met a few of my friends. It would be so lovely to get to know them."

I was growing agitated. I wasn't comfortable with this and she should know that.

"We don't have anything going on," I spoke way more rudely than I had meant to, or before I could gather my thoughts, "you need to calm down."

Her smile faded and I felt like cursing or punching someone.

"Right, I'm sorry," she laughed quietly and awkwardly to herself, looking down at her food and clearly feeling embarrassed, "that was silly of me."

I shut myself up after that and just continued eating, trying so hard not to just stare at her yet failing miserably.

Her wavy blonde hair was cast behind her, a few strands falling down from behind her ear when she leant down to take a bite of her wrap. It was hypnotising just watching her handle that by brushing the strands back over her ear.