Emma
“I’m sorry.”
I look up and have to blink because I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Eli and he’s holding a bunch of flowers out in front of me. A huge bouquet. Something I’ve never gotten in my entire life. And this one, well, it’s beautiful, with flowers in every color of the rainbow, and there are so many different kinds. It’s amazing.
“Are those for me?”
“Of course.”
“Why?” I’m still staring at the flowers.
“Because I was a jackass yesterday. I thought I was being funny and clever; instead, I was insensitive and boorish.”
“Boorish?” I snort. “Who says that word anymore?”
“I guess I do.” Eli shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”
“I don’t think ‘boorish’ is the right word.”
“No?” His head tilts to his right slightly. “What word would you use then?”
I tap my finger on my chin. “What about churlish?”
“Churlish?” He gently places the flowers on the counter, then reaches behind him and pulls out his phone. I watch as he taps away for a few seconds, then stops. Reading something, he nods. “I’ll accept churlish. But ill-bred has a nice ring to it.”
I snicker.
“Oh, how ’bout common?” He reads more. “There’s also coarse, ill-mannered, rough, low-class, unrefined, and vulgar.”
Shaking my head, I respond, “You weren’t vulgar.”
I guess my comment catches him off guard because his head jerks up at my words. Then he laughs. “But the rest of them are okay?”
His laughter makes me laugh. “Yeah. They all fit.”
“Fair enough, lovely Emma Perkins.”
Holding out his hand, he says the word I hate most in this world. “Friends?”
Placing mine in his, we shake. “Friends.”
“Good. Can I get a do-over on the coffee?”
“Oh.” I’m not sure that’s a great idea. “Do you think that’s wise?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Maybe you’re right.”
I don’t know why, but I was hoping he’d argue that point with me.
“Dinner, then.”
I nearly choke. “D-Dinner?”
“Saturday night.”
“Uh––” It feels like there’s dust in my eyes, I’m blinking so much. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. Wear something nice.”
