He's a Prince. She's a journalist.
They have a complicated relationship. More like he's into her but she hates his guts.
He needs to behave. She needs to let loose.
He's interested in her because she's the last girl interested in him.
Both of them n...
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It's been almost two weeks since I'd last heard from Mark. And still, all I could think about was how he was talking, like he was ready for more, like he wanted a relationship, like he is tired of one-night stands. Like he wanted me.
Okay. I invented that part.
Which is so pathetic, because if I'm honest with myself, I wanted him to want me.
I brush a strand of hair from my eyes and sigh. I'm pitiful. I know.
Someone knocks on my door and I look up to find Mary, one of my coworkers, holding a bouquet of exotic and colorful flowers. My cheeks feel warm as I smile and stand up. "Are these for me?"
Mary gives me one of those you're-so-dense looks and hands me the flowers. I bite my lip as I hold the little card on my right hand. I read it twice before I place the vase on my desk, right next to my new laptop and crease my brows. It doesn't say from who is it from, but I'm sure that if it were from Mark, he would probably boast about it as much as he could. Not that I want it to be from him. That could mean that he's into me. And he isn't.
Freaking hell.
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I read the card again, and I can't help but smile. It's a cute quote. Also, it's been so long since I got flowers...
A little ding comes from my computer and my grin widens. It's my mysterious enthusiastic devotee. He stopped writing for a while, but every few days, I get one of his emails and he never fails to make me smile. I have to give it to him, he's got humor and wit... and maybe guts. Or not. Because if he was braver, he wouldn't be using a stupid nickname and he would come out and tell me who he is. I roll my eyes before I read his email:
Dear two cents' worth,
It's been a while, but know I can't keep you out of my mind. I hope my flowers brighten your day as much as you always bright mine.
Your enthusiastic devotee.
My gaze slides to the flowers beside me. Their sweet perfume is filling the room and although I love flowers, I feel as if my stomach sinks a little as I lean back.
