CHAPTER 2

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"Flowers for Dakota Summers?" a male voice said from behind me

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"Flowers for Dakota Summers?" a male voice said from behind me.

I yanked my gaze away from the TV and turned around from the couch. A guy, sporting a faux-hawk stood in the entryway of the lounge. "Yeah?"

He strutted forward holding a fistful of red roses. My heart spiked through the roof. I hadn't gotten flowers in ages-not an unusual thing since I hadn't had a boyfriend in over a year.

Must be for Briana or something.

The short, thin guy made his way around the couch. I guess curiosity sealed my butt to the fake leather, because I didn't get up.

He thrust the bouquet toward me. "Can you sign here?"

"These are for me? You sure you got the right chick?" I glanced around the empty lounge.

I was usually the only one sprawled out on the solitary couch, especially on an early Friday evening. Hell, no one had even bothered to decorate the bland, light colored walls because the room was never used.

Leather chairs flanked each side of the couch I slouched in, so the guy navigated his thin legs through the tiny gap between the arms toward me, holding a pen out.

"Says Dakota Summers right here." He winked and tapped the writing utensil on the tiny clipboard. "You got a secret admirer?"

"Oh, please." I shrugged and reached for the pen he held out to me.

"Boyfriend?" he asked.

I arched an eyebrow at him for a second, then focused on the signature line, trying to remember how to spell my name. Someone sent me flowers? But who?

Nathan from Econ maybe? He'd asked me out a couple times.

But I was so not going to date a human again. They were too fragile.

"I bet a pretty thing like you has a few admirers." The corner of his mouth curled upward.

Okay, that made my cheeks burn, and I flubbed the M in Summers. "You make it a habit of hitting on the girls you deliver flowers to?"

His face flushed, nearly matching the red roses. I handed him the pen and clipboard and smiled. "Thanks."

He spun on his heel and made a beeline to the door. I brushed the silk-soft petals beneath my nose and inhaled the sweet scent. A yellow ribbon held six red roses together, and a card dangled down from one of the bows.

I curled my feet beneath me and checked the wall clock mounted above the flat screen TV. I had about an hour before my shift started.

"Okay, let's see who sent these bad bears," I whispered to myself. The pounding of my heart rattled my voice.

The sounds of the TV faded out from my awareness as I flipped open the top of the envelope and pulled out a pink card. In black ink, it read,

Forgive me?

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