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Amelia Jones hated her parent’s flower shop. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t hate her parents or her sister - in fact, she loved them all very much. It wasn’t even really the flower shop itself that she hated. If anything, she liked the bright array of colors the flowers brought into her life and the way she could glimpse out the window and watch the bustling people walking up and down the sidewalk outside. It was the concept of working at the flower shop that she hated.
At twenty-one, Amelia had expected to have moved out of the small town long ago. She’d managed to get admitted to a decent out-of-state college, she’d moved out of her parents house and into her own apartment, she’d even graduated. She’d been so close to getting away from her small hometown and making her own life. It was all going to plan until her ex-girlfriend cheated on her and threw Amelia out of their apartment without any warning. With no home or job, Amelia had been forced to move back home and work in her family’s flower shop - fulfilling the exact role that had been expected of her.
She hated it.
She hated that people hadn’t believed that she’d succeed and hated that she’d done exactly what had been expected of her. Not that there was anything wrong with her situation - there was no shame in any of it - it just hadn’t been what she had wanted.
There were only two real consolations to her sulking. The first was that she was getting paid and she got to spend time with her family. Out-of-state college meant rare visits home, so Amelia was secretly glad to spend time with them. The second, and perhaps the most thought consuming, one was Alice Kirkland - the cute tattoo artist who worked in the tattoo parlor next door.
Amelia had been sulking about her ex one early morning shift when she saw her walk by. Her long, blonde hair pinned up in a pigtail, tattooed arms on full display, and piercing glinting in the sunlight. She was so beautiful that any thought of Anya had been immediately swept from her mind - replaced by those piercing green eyes and the vibrate, intricate colors of her tattoos.
She’d been pinning ever since. So much so that Madeline had even called her out one morning when she’d accidentally pricked herself while making a rose arrangement. It had been worth it.
It was easy to say that Amelia had fallen hard for the other woman, and they hadn’t even spoken to one another. Amelia had never found the right time to start a conversation with her. She was far too afraid to go and talk to her when she was working, and running out of the flower shop when she passed by just to say hi was just creepy.
So there was a good change that Amelia’s crush would remain just that - a crush.
The revelation put her in a somber mood. Maybe that was why she was currently fiddling with the arrangement before her. She hadn’t even meant to make it, really. Her mom had asked her to make a new arrangement for the display window and the flowers that had ended up in the bouquet said more than she’d ever meant them to.
Bright blue and deep purple irises lined the outside of the bouquet, drooping over the side and speaking of hope and admiration. The hope of a new relationship, the hope that Alice would one day talk to her, the hope that she’d manage to get her life back on track. Then there was the admiration. The admiration she held for Alice. How she admired the other woman’s confidence and pride and determination.
The next flower poking out in the bouquet were pink camellias. It had a simple meaning - blunt and straightforward. Longing. It summed up what Amelia felt pretty well, she thought. The pinning and yearning she’d felt towards Alice Kirkland was pretty strong, scarily so. She hadn’t even felt like this with her ex, and they’d been together for three years.
The final two flowers were roses. The first were white roses. They stood starkly against the colors of the other flowers and were the only part of the bouquet that spoke to Amelia’s confidence. I’m worthy of you, it said. Amelia didn’t know if that was necessarily true, but she desperately wanted it to be.
The final rose, which made up the heart of the bouquet, was a beautiful, pristine red. Love. Well, she certainly wasn’t in love yet, but she could see herself falling in love, especially with Alice Kirkland.
Amelia gave a sigh at the thought and poked at the red roses in the middle of the bouquet. Maybe she was taking her break up with Anya harder than she thought.
The bouquet she made ended up in the window, on proud display for the passersby on the street outside. Including the one person it was made for.
There was no way the tattoo artist knew the meanings of the flowers in the bouquet, Amelia reasoned to herself, and there was no way that she’d think it was for her even if she did.
At least, that’s what she’d thought up until Alice Kirkland walked into their flower shop one early morning.
Amelia snapped to attention when the other woman entered and watched her with rapt attention as her eyes carefully picked over all of the flowers and their displays. The ink on her arms was in full display today, framed by a black tank that made the colors pop brilliantly. She almost looked as if she belonged there.
“Do you work here?” the other woman finally asked, green eyes snapping from the flowers to Amelia.
She could feel her cheeks heat at the attention. She really needed to get her act together. “Ummm, yeah, yeah I do.”
Green eyes narrowed and Alice nodded her head towards the bouquet in the window.
Amelia felt her throat go dry.
“Did you arrange that?”
“I did…”
The other woman gave her an unamused hum and a raised eyebrow. “And you’re Amelia, right? Amelia Jones?”
“Yes?”
“And you’re friends with Francine Bonnefoy?”
Amelia had absolutely no idea where the line of questioning was going, but she hoped that it would end well. “Ummm, she’s my sister’s girlfriend.”
“Right, okay,” Alice said, an uncharacteristic nervousness overcoming her. She pulled a white business card out of her back pocket and held it up. “Listen, you don’t know me and I know this will probably come off as really creepy, but I’ve seen you through the window in the morning when I walk past and I think you’re kind’ve cute, so call me later.”
Her words came out in a rush and the card was practically thrown down on the counter in front of her. Before she could respond or even react, Alice Kirkland was gone, out the door and back onto the street.
The only sign the interaction had even happened was the business card that was laying on the counter. Alice’s name, profession, and business number were printed neatly on the front in bold, black letters, while a handwritten number was scrawled on the back. Several minutes after she left, Amelia picked up the card reverently and turned it in her hands, afraid it would disappear in her hands.
Finally, she pulled out her phone, entered the number, and sent Alice Kirkland a quick hello text before she could think twice about it.
Then, she sent another to her sister.
Hey, does Franny know Alice Kirkland? she asked her. The response was almost immediate.
Maaaaaaaaaybe. You’re welcome, by the way ;-)