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When Veronica turns around after closing her locker, she finds herself almost walking into an enormous bouquet of flowers.
"Sorry," Ethel says, lowering the bouquet to waist height, which reveals that her freckled cheeks are flushed pink. "I wanted to surprise you."
"Consider me surprised! These are beautiful," Veronica says, taking a step closer. She doesn't recognize most of the flower varieties, but they truly do look stunning all bundled together, a carefully contained explosion of red and purple, yellow and orange. While the floral scent is certainly present, it isn't overwhelming, which was not the cases with many of the bouquets Veronica received in New York from secret (and not-so-secret) admirers. "Did you pick these yourself?"
Ethel nods and ducks her head, cheeks going from pink to cherry-red.
"Is there a special occasion I'm forgetting about?" Veronica continues, laughing as one of the flowers tickles her cheek. "My birthday isn't until next month."
"No special occasion," Ethel answers, voice so soft that Veronica can hardly hear her above the hustle and bustle of the hallway. "I just wanted to give you something nice."
It shouldn't be so strange to hear, but Veronica isn't used to flowers (or gifts of any kind, really), coming with no strings attached to them.
"Well, thank you," she says, craning up on her tiptoes and leaning over the bouquet so that she can press her lips to Ethel's forehead. "I love them. And you."
Somehow, Ethel's cheeks turn even more red.
"Love you too."