Eva

 

Arranging the daisies in the yellow vase, I put in a few sunflowers to add some color. Stepping back, I tilt my head, taking it in. It looks good, I just think something else needs to be added. “Tree fern,” I whisper, going to grab some of the soft greenery out of the back.

As I make my way back, I hear the bell above the door jingle. When I bought this florist shop a few years ago, I swore the first thing to go would be that bell. It was annoying. Now, though, I’m glad I never got around to taking it down. That sound means success to me. Each time I hear it, it’s the possibility of another sale.

“Eva, you’re back,” Mrs. Preston says.

Smiling, I walk out from behind the counter. She’s such a sweet, faithful customer. Every week since I opened, she’s come in and gotten an arrangement. Once I asked her what she does with them and placing her aging hand on mine, she smiled. Telling me that fresh flowers are the sign of a well kept home. They brighten the room and the mood of anyone who sees them. Not to mention they smell good. I’d never thought of it like that before, but ever since that day, I have a fresh arrangement of flowers on my table every week.

Carefully wrapping my arms around her, I smile. “Yes, I’m back Mrs. Preston,” I say before pulling back. “What are you looking for today?”

“Oh dear, I hope everything’s alright. I asked everyone where you had gone, but all they would tell me was it was personal,” she says, ignoring the fact I’m trying to change the subject.

“Everything is great. I’ve never been better. So, enough about me. Why don’t you tell me what beautiful flowers you’d like this week?”

Understanding that’s all she’s getting from me, we go about picking out flowers like we’ve done so many times before. After she leaves with a bouquet of wildflowers, I quickly make myself one. This will brighten up my house for sure.

“Eva, you’re back. How ya doing sweetheart?” Kathy asks. She’s another regular. A successful business woman, who comes in every so often to have flowers sent to herself at work. I’m not one to judge, I just do what the customer wants. Although, I have my theory. There is probably some hot guy that she is trying to make jealous.

Smiling, I grab my pad to write on. “I’m doing good, thanks. How are you?”

She knows. I can immediately see it in her eyes. They are looking at me like I’m some sad, emotionally wrecked kitten that has been kicked around. It’s why I don’t talk about it, because everyone gives me that look. I hate that look.

“I’m fine, but I’m worried about you. Are you sure you should be back to work already?”

Closing my eyes so briefly she doesn’t even notice, I nod. “I’m great, really. So how about you tell me what I’m sending this time?”

Getting through my first full day back by myself, makes me feel a sense of accomplishment. I proved to myself I could do it. Locking up, I cradle my flowers in my arm, and head toward my car. The drive home makes me realize how damn drained I am. I hadn’t noticed since I was so busy, but now that I’m sitting, it’s crashing around me.

Once I’m home, I drop everything on the counter, flowers included. Taking a quick shower, I figure it will help wake me up a bit. When I get out, I sit on my bed.

The sound of my phone ringing, makes me jump up. “Shit.”

I fell asleep. No, I passed out. Still wrapped in my towel, I rush out to the kitchen to get my phone. Grabbing it, I realize I’ve been asleep for nearly four hours and I’m still tired.

“Hello?”

“Shit, did I wake you?” Brett asks.

Clearing my throat, I tighten the towel around myself. “No. What’s up?”

“What are you crying or something?” he asks, definitely starting to feel uncomfortable.

I laugh, grabbing a water out of the fridge. “No, I’m definitely not crying. Seriously, what’s up?”

“Oh, I was thinking about this weekend. I think we should try that new bar. We’ve struck out every time at our normal spot, so let’s switch it up. What do you think?”

Tightening the towel, I sit down on the couch with my water. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I haven’t been the best wingman so far, and some of that is my fault. It was my idea to go say hi to Jana and Shawn.”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit. If I didn’t want to hang out with them, I wouldn’t have. They were cool. It was a fun night. Plus, you’ve saved me from some crazies. This weekend it’ll be different,” he says.

Once again I laugh. “You’re such an asshole,” I joke.

“Now that is definitely the truth,” he says, completely serious.

“Brett, I’m only kidding.”

“Maybe you are, but maybe you know as well as I do it’s the truth. So, anyway I figure we’ll meet up at the bar around nine like usual. Sound good?” he asks, changing the subject.

I want to push. I want to know why he thinks that about himself. Does he realize he’s a player who’s probably been called an asshole more times than he could count? Maybe after hearing it so many times you just start to believe it’s the truth. I can see people thinking he’s an asshole. He’s a wham bam thank you ma’am, guy. One night only. A manwhore. I’m sure he’s hurt a lot of women. Hell, I’m sure some have felt like a cheap whore, just like I did. I guess maybe he’s right. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe deep down I do think he’s nothing but an asshole.

“Eva? Did I lose you?”

Shit. “No, sorry I’m here. Yeah, nine is great. So listen, I’m going to get to bed. I’ll catch up with you at the end of the week.”

As much as I want to stay on the phone, listening to his deep voice, my body just won’t have it. I pushed myself today and I’m paying for it now.

 

**

 

It’s Friday night and I’m on my way to the bar to meet Brett. He’s determined to leave with someone tonight. He must of told me twenty times between last night and today. I have to imagine this is the longest he’s gone without sex and it’s starting to fuck with him. Metaphorically, of course.

Tonight, unlike all the others, he meets me at the cab. “There’s my girl,” he says, wrapping his art filled arm around me.

It makes me feel good, a little too good. He doesn’t remove it until we get up to the bar. And he tosses me a wink. A fucking wink. I don’t know if he’s flirting or what, but for a minute, I need to remind myself I’m not here with him. Not in that way.

“I need a shot,” I blurt out.

Running his hand over the hair on his face, he searches my eyes. “Bad day?”

“No. I just want a shot,” I say. I mean what else am I supposed to say? No not a bad day, just need some alcohol to be able to deal with you and this night. Obviously not, so I came up with that lame ass reply.

“Ok. Not sure I believe you, but I’m not going to push. Whatever is bothering you, you’ll forget all about when you’re getting screwed later.”

Screwed. If he only knew how long it’s actually been since I had sex. How long it’s been since I felt the weight of a guy above me, the feeling of his skin on mine, his taste. And an orgasm, it’s been even longer since I’ve experienced that. Since I’ve had my body worshipped. So, the odds of that happening tonight or anytime soon are slim. I want to have fun, I need it. I’m just not sure it’ll ever happen.

“Eva, you sure you want to be here?” he asks, pushing a shot my way.

Tossing it back, I slam the cup down. “I’m sure. Let’s do this.”

“How about a drink first?”

“How about you act like the manwhore you are and let’s get this going already,” I shoot back.

Ouch. That was mean and totally uncalled for. He knows it too because he looks hurt which is quickly replaced by pissed. I don’t know where this is all coming from, why I’m being such a bitch all of a sudden.

Getting close to my face, close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin, he says, “Just because I don’t want a relationship doesn’t make me a piece of shit. Just because I sleep around doesn’t make me a bad guy. And just because I walk in without the door being opened for me doesn’t make me an insensitive prick. You don’t need to be here, no one is forcing you, but if you’re going to stay I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck has changed.”

“I’m sorry, fuck Brett. I don’t even know why I said that. It was uncalled for and hurtful,” I say, dropping my gaze to the floor.

“Oh no,” he says, lifting my chin. “Don’t look away from me now. What’s changed Eva?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s changed. It’s me. It was a bad week and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry, please Brett. I didn’t mean it,” I say, feeling tears starting to build.

“Don’t lie. Don’t sit there and lie to my face. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t think it at least once or twice,” he calmly says, tossing back a shot.

“Okay fine. Maybe I’ve thought it before, but not since we’ve gotten to know each other again. I swear to you I don’t know where it came from. Only thing I can say is I had a shit week and you are the one I’m closest too, so I took it out on you,” I whisper, as a tear escapes.

He reaches over, brushing it away with his thumb. “Eva, don’t cry. I can’t handle that. I get having a bad week, I’ve had them, a lot of them. I even get the anger, I have it too. But next time you’re having a bad week or whatever, how about you just fucking tell me what’s wrong.”

“Okay, fine. Deal,” I say and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” he says, wrapping one arm around me.

 

**

 

After we finally got past the shitty start to the night, we started drinking...heavily. I’m not sure he really knows I’m sorry, but he’s not acting pissed anymore.

“Hey Eva. Blonde, five o’clock,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.

Looking that way, I check her out. She’s alright, he could do better, but I’m not going to say that at this point. She’s got a man with her and he looks about ready to claw out of his skin. You can tell by their posture and interaction that they're just friends. He doesn’t want to be here, so this should be easy. For him anyway.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I say, finishing my drink.

I walk over and smile at the guy with short, dark hair before stopping by the table. “Hey, I’m Eva. I’m a little drunk so excuse my bluntness, but I just couldn’t stop looking at you,” I say, flipping my hair.

“His name is Trevor,” the blonde girl says, elbowing him.

“Hey,” is all he says. Great, this is going to be a shit storm.

“Sorry, he’s a little shy. Have a seat,” she says. As I sit, she holds her hand out to me, “I’m Sara.”

“Nice to meet you both. So, Trevor what do you do?” I say, trying to get his attention.

“I’m a cop,” he says.

A cop. A shy cop? I don’t buy it. Something isn’t right here. “Oh that’s an exciting job. What precinct?”

“Eva? Hey what’s going on?” Brett says.

“Brett, holy shit. How are you? Come sit down,” I rush out.

A half hour later, Brett is walking out with Sara. My stomach tightens and my anger resurfaces.

“I’m crazy about her and she just doesn’t see it,” Trevor says.

Turning toward him, I tilt my head. “What?”

“Sara. I’m crazy about her and she has no interest in me. She’s always ready to rush off with anyone who gives her the time of day. No offense to your friend, but come on. The way you were flirting with him and the pain on your face when they walked out the door...you feel the same,” he says, tipping back his beer.

What? “No, I don’t.” 

“Yeah, you’ll only be able to convince yourself of that for so long. Believe me. But the jealousy you felt when he walked out of here. That’s just going to get worse.”

Jealousy? Holy shit. He’s right, I felt jealous.