Yours | ✓

6 | Welcome to the Flower Shop

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Flower Shop

"oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me
up, but I know a heart that's broke
is a heart that's been loved"
~ ed sheeran

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L I A M

The floor was too fucking cold. But was I gonna move? No.

Not because I was lazily or bored with my life, but with the reason that I couldn't stop staring at my shit.

My damn, unfinished projects.

My garage was hot as balls, so when I got down here at seven in the morning, my shirt was instantly off, which now was glistened with sweat. Although the sun was absent this morning, it felt like it was ninety degrees.

A cold drink felt like the best option, at the moment.

But with my mind heading in that direction, I hit my head hard against the wall behind me. Since I'd been sitting on the floor, my arms resting on my apart legs in front of the wall, it wasn't hard for me to do so.

Why the fuck had I gone to the diner last night? I've been asking myself that same question the moment I stepped into that damn restaurant and when I got home. Fuck, I even thought about it before and after I woke up from my non-existent sleep.

Without realizing, my attention was on my hands, seeing how she wrapped the gauze around my knuckles.

Any normal fucking human would have stayed in bed, slept off the night's events, seeing that my face was busted, and so were my hands. But I wasn't one to sit idly all day.

Fucking hell, I open my shop at nine in the damn morning, but I've been in my garage since seven, trying, fucking trying to finish a project beforehand.

Cussing under my breath, I dropped my hands to my sides before bringing myself to stand on my feet. For a moment, my vision blurred. But while I blinked repeatedly to get rid of the wave of tiredness, all I could think of was her.

Pale green eyes, little nose, plump lips, and visible cheekbones. And her hair. Fucking hell. Never would I have thought that a girl over the age of ten could look as gorgeous as she did, with bangs.

"Night, bangs."

Did I actually call her that? She probably thought I was crazy. Not that I was denying that assumption, but hell.

Maybe it suited her because it didn't cover her full forehead—it was... nice. She could look innocent, but I knew that wasn't the case.

Monica.

I didn't come to the diner last night because of her. Fuck no. I just came there for the milkshake. My milkshake. A working guy who typically worked fifteen hours a day deserved it. That was the only reason.

But I hated how interested I was about the newcomer. Because she sure as hell was—new, I mean. I don't talk to people, but I sure as hell heard her name floating around the last few weeks.

For the first time in two years, I was interested in someone. Someone who definitely was different than other people in this town.

She tried to talk to me. Tried to make me laugh. At times, she almost succeeded.

And in a way, I despised her for that.

Too fuelled by emotions, I strode out of my garage before jogging up the three steps to my front door. Without moving my gaze, I walked to the kitchen, making myself black coffee.