In the Language of the Flowers

| 33 |

✾ Gloxinia ✾

I tapped the message somewhat clumsily into my phone. My fingers were a bit chilly. How I longed for spring. It would be a time of new beginnings. I always felt like the air filled with a specific sort of freedom in the spring. But it would be a while yet. 

Any news? 

That's what the message said. Was it too short? I felt like I rarely saw Beau since he'd been back in school, so maybe I should have added something more. Something about my day so far. Something about making plans to go on a date. His birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something for him. I tucked my phone back away. 

He seemed so busy all the time, like he didn't really need me around. I knew that a little distance between us wasn't a big deal, but how much is too much? Maybe I was worried because he had other people again. I'd told him that I was jealous about Amory, and he'd reassured me. He said I had nothing to worry about. Of course, I didn't. Of course! 

To be honest, I'd known that. I'd just told him in the name of honesty. I didn't want to keep anything secret from him. Immediately afterward, he'd absolutely lit up and informed me about his essay submission for a national competition. I was so proud. It was just another sign of the brilliance radiating from him. I asked to read the essay, but he told me no. Said he was embarrassed because it was about me, apparently. I conceded, after some resistance, and told him to keep me updated. He was supposed to hear back any day now. Early February, he'd said. 

I wanted to believe that everything was fine. I really wanted to sit him down and talk to him soon. It felt like every day was a waste without him by my side. My lips felt unused. 

"Ren!" 

I jerked out of my own mind, looking around the coffee shop. Sitting at a corner table was a completely changed Jonah. He'd undergone a serious metamorphosis since I'd last seen him. 

"Oh my god," I said, approaching the table. Jonah stood and pulled me into a hug, but I was still too shocked to form entire sentences. Back in high school, we'd been required to wear uniforms. Without those restrictions, Jonah had really gone wild with his getup. "Wow." 

"You like?" Jonah asked, winking at me. 

I nodded. "You look great." 

Jonah smiled and sat down. He giggled a little. "Thanks." He was wearing perfectly fitted black pumps, skin-tight leather pants, a leopard-print blouse with puffy sleeves, and a black choker. I could feel the careful attention he'd given to even the smallest elements of his appearance, down to the elaborately carved hair and tiny piercing. And why not? Every style choice was an opportunity for him to shout to the world who he was, to wear his identity with pride. The flamboyant, confidently gay man in front of me was a far cry from the somewhat shy, secretive jock he'd once been. But it felt like a massive improvement.