When she walked me to the door, I almost did. I looked at her, and she stared back at me, her eyes moving, I swear, from my own down to my lips several times, and she leaned against the doorjamb and just smiled her gorgeous fucking smile at me.
But I was a gentleman, and she was going out with other people.
Every day since then I’ve thought of starting over, of trying to ask her out again and make this thing for real between us. But I was stuck.
I want to be her friend, because being around her was easy and comfortable. I love it. And I love being around Rora too.
But I desperately want more than that.
“We brought decorations!” Rora yells, and I pick her up, setting her on the counter and smiling at her. I glance at Birdie over her head and lift a brow in question.
“I know you said you don’t have time for decorating the store,” she says, holding up a hand. “But I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, if Rora and I could take a crack at it for a while.”
I stare in wonder at her, shocked and grateful by her offer. “You would do that for me?”
She lifts a shoulder and glances around. “I just think it would make the place feel more inviting. The rest of the stores have decorations, and then on Halloween you could pass out some candy and maybe do a few things to bring in some parents who could become customers.”
She is incredible. I have to find a way out of this friend zone.
“That would be amazing.” I look at Rora and smile. “But I want to help.”
“Let’s decorate!” Rora yells, and I help her down, carrying the big bag she brought over near the front of the store.
Then we spend the next three hours, with several snack breaks for Rora, transforming my storefront.
When I was little, my dad would do this all the time. I can’t remember when he stopped, but I don’t remember worrying about it at all. When I left for the military, the store was running smoothly, and Dad had been healthy.
All throughout my years of service, he never alluded to anything being bad or times being tough, even though if I had thought about it for more than a few minutes, I should have known better.
Then by the time I got home, he was nearly gone, and the store hadn’t been a concern for me. It’s only been the last couple of years that it’s been really thin.
Seeing all the things that Birdie bought for the store, and her vision coming together when it’s all done, changes how I feel about the upcoming months. “Huh.”
She stands back, admiring the work we did and smiles at Rora, who is passed out on the bench that’s rarely usedoutside the front of the store. People walk by, taking more than half a second to glance at the sign above the store, and I see already the potential that making the store stand out has.
“You are amazing,” I say to her, gathering the tools we used to hang certain items. There are brown fall leaves on the garland hung above us and a fall wreath on the door with pumpkins and orange and brown leaves around it.
Birdie wrote the name of the store in window paint with all sorts of artistic things around it to make the name pop on the big front window. It’s incredible. She’s incredible.
Taking a chance, I walk over to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. It’s awkward, and I know it is, but it doesn’t stop me from doing it anyway.
“I really think it could help,” she says, then pulls away to look up at me. There’s something nervous in her eyes, like she wants to say something but can’t quite find the words.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, twisting her hand. “Listen, this is so not my business. But you know I work in marketing.”
“Yeah, I know.” My tone of voice is enough to show her that I’m confused.
“Well, I’d really like to help. To give you ideas and help you get this store back to what it could be.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, batting down the pride that tells me to turn her down. That’s the instinct I have, but that’s not just about her, that’s with everyone. I never want to ask for help because then I would owe people.
Even though not a single person in my group of friends would ever hold it against me, and I know Birdie wouldn’t either.
“I’d be open to talking about things,” I start, unsure how to make it clear that my budget isn’t much. Shaking my head at myself, I just state the obvious. “I don’t have money for a big marketing campaign.”
“No, no, of course not,” she says quickly, looking at me with an earnest expression. She looks like she’s about to burst from excitement. “I think there’s a ton of things we can do to elevate you, and it wouldn’t cost that much.”
