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She pauses. Stops her speech for a moment, turning on her heel to look me him in the eyes. Instead of glaring as she would with most everyone else though, she instead strides over to the counter and slaps her palms against the warm yet scratchy wood.
“What did you just say to me?” She asks, slanting her eyes and tilting her head almost quizzically. As if she hasn’t just threatened him, basically. He scoffs, turning away from the counter and instead plucking a few more flowers from various bouquets placed around the shop.
“I said,” he mutters, inspecting a daffodil for signs of wilting, “that you’re not being fair. You should give him a chance instead of pushing him away. How bad can a date with him really be, after all?” He’s not speaking of himself, of course. Instead, he’s stating his opinion on the young man that had left the shop around an hour before.
He had dark skin and even darker eyes, with curly hair that he wore short in some sort of miniature afro. The stranger had been quite handsome in his opinion, but she hadn’t seen that, apparently. He’d been rejected as soon as the question as to what her name was left his lips.
“Besides, just because you guys aren’t the same color shouldn’t mean you can’t date. That’s quite ridiculous, don’t you think? Very last year.” She sucks on her teeth as he explains his opinion on the matter, the look of annoyance returning quicker and quicker to her eyes with every word that leaves his lips about the previous boy.
Before he can say anything else, she cuts him off. “Do you seriously think that low of me? That I would judge someone from their color?”
She seems like she’s tempted to cross her arms across her chest like some sort of three-year-old during a tantrum but eventually decides against it. He merely sighs.
“You know it isn’t like that.” He mutters. She shakes her head.
“Do I though? Because I don’t recall.”
A huff of annoyance. “It’s nothing personal. Really. But with the whole... well, stereotype against a person of color getting with the likes of you, I can understand why you would be hesitant or whatever to try and break it. Especially with your dad. But I really think it’s quite stupid how you refrain from doing anything about it.”
He can tell he’s struck a chord. Her arms shake for a moment and instead of repositioning them she stuffs her hands into her jean pockets as if searching for a long lost twenty dollar bill. “I-” her voice drifts off. “It’s... not like that. Really.”
“Then what is it?”
“I just... didn’t like him. I mean, I just saw him and I don’t really know him, so...”
“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his fourteenth flower out of another bouquet and stuffing it into the one he was now filling. “says the guy that hooked up with Ben Johnkil the second he offered. And then Mark Buffl when the date ended and you decided you didn’t like him like that.”
She’s getting angry, now, and her cheeks flush a dark red. “I knew them both beforehand!”
“Unlikely!” He throws back, dropping the new bouquet on the counter and rummaging through a drawer for a ribbon to tie them all together with. “Considering they had only just transferred to the school from the same town, I highly doubt you knew them in the slightest.”
“My- my parents had their parents over for dinner.”
“And neither showed up, considering you were at my house when that happened! You complained about it!”
She’s been defeated, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t mad. So instead of thinking of a comeback or admitting defeat, she turns and makes her way to the shop door.
“Whatever, Ben. I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll call you later or whatever.” Before he can say anything, she’s already pulled her knee-lengthed coat over her shoulders and has tightened the silky fastener around her waist to keep it closed. She turns up her coat collar and shuts the door behind her, the bell chiming behind her as the coat flys in the blustering wind outside.
Ben groans, tying the ribbon around the plastic surrounding the flowers and placing it on the counter. He then busies himself with some more orders and for a good five minutes, he’s able to push the argument out of his head. When it comes back, however, Ben can’t help but feel... Bad. But before he can look over to the phone on the wall and think about calling Brittney to apologize or explain something or another, the bell chimes once again and another girl walks in.
She flips her hair over her shoulder and gives him a smile too sweet to be true. He sighs, giving her a meek one in turn.
“Hello, what flowers can I get for you today?”