To be fair, whilst Adam didn’t necessarily care about finding someone on the job, he did have a problem with working in a flower shop.
Thorns.
Fucking thorns, agony to remove from the flower, agony to remove from yourself.
“Fu – “ the door opens, bell chiming. Adam’s attempt at cursing trails off into a hum.
“Is it custom for all florists to have a bell?” the accent has a country lilt, thickly layered, but high in tone. It was something beautiful. Adam turns and it met with the slightly tan face of the sandy locked stranger. His breath catches. Adam feels giddy but sickly, anxiousness burning at his skin, flames whispering don’t fuck up, don’t fuck up.
“I wouldn’t really know, haven’t been to too many myself,” its probably the most pathetic attempt at conversing with someone in history.
“Haven’t you?” It probably should be mocking, but the raised brow and half quirked mouth is just a devastating combination and his knees fall weak. Adam looks anywhere except at him.
“Uh, no. Anyhow, what can I do for you?” he finds the strength of a god and makes himself move behind the counter, faux productive by shuffling random things.
“I was lookin’ for a folk ‘round here and I was told that you, uh, might be able to help with that.” Adam’s brow furrows.
“Who are you looking for?”
“Chris Rupp,” he’s reading off of a piece of scrap paper that’s been fiddled with quite often, obvious fold marks visible. Huh. The stranger had moved closer.
“He’s uh, he’s my brother,” Adam worries his lower lip.
“Oh. Oh, so your Adam,” he says, smiling as if he’d just cracked the world’s greatest puzzle.
“How do you know my name?” The stranger holds the paper up, as if its got all the answers on it. Adam kinda wished it did.
“Your brother said he wanted to start something, an a cappella group. Country style,” he grins wide and holy shit is his jaw fucking great. Adam doesn’t even know why he’s focusing on his jaw because that’s not usually his thing but holy fucking lord above. He breathes in deeply.
“Oh, that.”
“Me and my friends were interested, an found that the interesting Minnesota brothers had moved to good ‘ole Georgia,” Adam swallows thickly.
“Interesting?” he says weakly. The stranger moves forward, leaning on the counter side.
“Absolutely. Ain’t nobody doing country a cappella. We could one o’ a kind.” He’s staring at Adam how Adam imagine dragons and magpies stare at jewels but he can’t be too sure, after all, he’s never had anyone look at him the way the perfect stranger is right now.
“Where are my manners? I never caught your name,” Adam says looking away. The stranger grins.
“Austin. Austin Brown.”
“I’ll make sure to tell my brother. Or, better yet, I could give you his phone number right now and you could let him know.”
“Would be mighty kind of ya to do so, but won’t he be annoyed?”
“No, just tell him your a fella and that your here for the band and he won’t say nothing too creepy.” Adam smiles a little. He pulls out a card, the kind they use for personal messages and grabs a pen from the pot next to him. He scribbles a number down and gives it to Austin, biting his lower lip harshly. Austin straightens himself out and, paper in hand, makes his way to the door.
“Oh and by the way?”
“Yeah?” Adam calls, anxious.
“The brunette your blonde friend was staring at earlier is Olena. She’s bisexual. And interested.” And he’s gone.
Adam blinks. “What the fuck?”
"Hm? You say something?" Jenika appears in the door way from behind him, one earphone plugged in, the other between pinched fingers.
---
Chapter 2! Leave a comment if you wish to do so!
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Faith(less)
Fanfiction"Every story has a beginning, middle and end. Not necessarily in that order." - Jean-Luc Godard Sometimes you think your story has long since ended. Maybe its never even started. This is a story about a man who thinks his...
