Propping my elbows on the wooden counter, I rested my chin on my palms as I watch the dead room. There are no customers, it's really is strange. After that two customers walk out thirty minutes ago, it was like a curse. "This day is very rare, and for once, we can relax," Cynthia walk closer to me, and took the stool and sat. Her hands on the counter as she watches the flowers, staring through them.
"It is strange, don't you think?" I asked. Cynthia shook her head, and I stared at her lazily. I'm actually starting to feel sleepy. It's past lunch time, and I didn't have much sleep last night since I'm so bothered why Isaias never showed up after that date. It's almost a week now.
I missed him terribly.
I texted him once, but he told me he's busy, and he'll call me once he's done with this important meeting he had to attend. I waited, and until now, he hasn't called. I want to call him, but I couldn't find the courage. It's just that every time I tried, the courage slips away quickly. Something in me nudging me to wait. I should wait for him to reach me first, I should act cool, and not a desperate one, but my patience is slowly wearing off.
Cynthia's voice drags me out of my train of thoughts. "It's not strange, Rose. Not all days we have customers. We had the worst day, where no sale at all." I stared at her, surprised.
Well, flowers are not like a day to day demands, but not even a single one?
"Really?" I said.
She nodded. "Yes."
"How often?" I inquired with less interest.
"As far as I remember ... since I started here ..." she looks at me, staring through me, thinking "once?" she furrowed, thinking deeply, all the while nibbling the bottom corner of her lip. "Yes, once."
I absentmindedly nod my head.
"But most times, it's very busy. That's why Mrs. Fair still kept the four of us," she grinned.
I look around the room, various scents of flowers floating into the air, and it uplifts my spirit. Mrs. Fair already left home, leaving us alone together.
"So what are you up to this weekend?" Cynthia asked suddenly. My wandering brain snapped to her and thought of it. Yes, tomorrow is Saturday, and I'm off. I have no plans actually.
I shook my head, my lips curled in a half-pout. Cynthia grinned. "Would you like to join us tonight then?" she gave me an expectant look.
I eyed her curiously. "To the bar. With Amylou and my roommate, Geneva," with her brown bright eyes twinkling, her eyebrows thrust up, silently encouraging me.
I bit my lower lip. I haven't been to a bar. I have no idea what's going in there, but I heard it many times from Tristan, and it's his favorite hang out, and aunt Estella disapproved of it, but she can't do anything to stop him from going there.
Bar, where you can relax. You can leave your stress and just have fun, according to Tristan.
If I'll ask aunt Estella tonight if I can go, she may not agree, but the curiosity burning in my chest had me nodding to Cynthia mindlessly.
I've always wanted to, but never had the chance to go. I've asked Tristan once, but he warned me to never try, or he'll stop training me. Avenging my father was more important that I agreed, so it never crosses my head again until now.
I spent my time sneaking out of the house, familiarizing myself with the streets, the places, and learning how to use guns, to assemble and disassemble, and a little of martial arts.
YOU ARE READING
Falling For Her NightmareRomance
Warning: Contains graphic scenes, mature languages, and swearing. (Sequel to His Wicked Ways) He's lethally cold, impassioned bastard and she loathed him. He's the reason of her father's death. But why her heart stutte...