A bunch of tulips, their stems a gorgeous shade of green and their petals a deep shade of red, lay beside the threshold of my doorway.
Leaving my keys to hang from the lock, I pick up the bouquet, bringing the flowers to my nose, inhaling their potent scent, and noticing the single white petaled tulip sitting front and centre, surrounded by ruby red.
I smooth my thumb over the pretty pink satin ribbon holding the flower stems together and the thick card stock envelope attached, feeling my heart begin to pound.
Something tells me it’s not the triple shot of espresso in my latte that has my pulse quickening.
Stepping into my studio fully, the leftover scent of vanilla incense wafting past my nose, I dump my items beside the spare yoga mats. Turning my attention fully to the flowers, I pinch the card peeking out of the envelope between my thumb and forefinger, giving it a wiggle until it pulls freely.
Gee,
I never thought I could miss someone I see daily.
I miss your laugh and your smile and the sound of my name on your lips.
Call me when you’re ready to talk.
Yours,
Hudson. X
By the time I’ve ran through a quick twenty minute yoga flow to centre myself for a day of teaching ahead, I can recall Hudson’s message word for word.
He has me giddy like a schoolgirl without even knowing it.
Gulping down the rest of my coffee, I head out in search of the water cooler, planning on filling up my takeaway cup with water and using it as a makeshift vase until I can get home later on this evening.
My trainers squeak against the linoleum of the quiet corridor as I push open the door to the main gym area, the sound quickly becoming eaten up by a wave of pop music emanating from the overhead speakers.
I can’t stop myself from searching the sea of people already making full use of the gym for a familiar shock of messy brown hair.
Like opposite ends of a magnet drawn to one another, I spot Hudson easily, standing beside the damned water chiller, filling up his reusable bottle.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I shorten the space between us, until I’m right beside him.
Those green eyes of his widen once he realises it’s me.
I watch as the pulse point on his neck begins to flutter.
“Thank you for the flowers, Hudson. They’re beautiful.”
I taste him on my lips – the shape of his name, the way my tongue curls over the vowels.
“You’re welcome,” he answers, fingers curling tightly around his water bottle.
Not knowing what else to say, I turn to jab my thumb into the green button on the water cooler, waiting for the slow stream of liquid to fill up my cup.
“How have you been?”
I peer over my shoulder at Hudson, feeling those pesky butterflies in my stomach, the ones which have been lying dormant for the past two weeks, perk up, stretching their furled wings.
“Terrible. You?”
“Terrible,” he repeats my answer with a tick of his jaw.
I hardly think he’s lying; the dark shadows under his tired looking eyes and the lines bracketing his mouth tell me everything I need to know.
I know I don’t look much better.
