Idiots to Lovers (bxb)

19 | The Allergies Are For Real This Time (I Swear)

I was racing down the streets clutching buttercups in my fists. My heart was racing faster than I was, pattering against my ribcage in a quick, erratic rhythm.

I'd made the decision to finally tell Everett how I feel about him, and I'd had to act on it that very instant. I couldn't allow my brain to have a single moment to ponder all the possible outcomes and second guess itself for the millionth time, to eventually wind itself into an indecisive loop.

Because for once in my life, I was actually doing something.

The pavement was littered with crunchy yellow leaves. They reminded me of Everett—seeing anything yellow did. The wind blew through and tangled my hair, cold air turning my cheeks pink.

Or perhaps that was coming from my allergy to buttercups; I tried to ignore the faint itch.

The cafe appeared in the distance, silhouetting itself against the setting sun. I ran down the last few hundred meters and burst through the front entrance, my momentum causing the doors to swing open with a loud clanging sound.

My chest heaving from the exertion, I glanced around, squinting in the dim lighting. The only form of illumination was a dull beam streaming bleakly through the corner window. There was no chaotic waiter skating around and lighting the place up. And except for a few customers who were on their way out, the cafe was empty. I realized with dismay that it was past closing time.

I was too late.

My shoulders slumping, I let out a shaky breath. My chest felt hollow with disappointment as I put my hands on my knees and crouched down. He wasn't here. I was going to tell him that I.... But he wasn't here.

I tried to reason with myself that I could still go to his house. And if his mom doesn't let me in—Hell, I could stand out there till Everett has to eventually leave the place.

But I could already feel my determination slipping away. The old uncertainties came back to haunt me. Suddenly the buttercups looked stupid and weird—dull, half wilted, and crushed in my fists. Anyone would scoff with derision if they knew of my dumb plan.

From across the room, I caught the eye of the manager leaving the kitchen—Everett's dad. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes going wide with shock as he assessed the look on my face and the buttercups in my fists.

I caught my trembling lip between my teeth, biting down so hard that I tasted blood. Any moment now he's going to tell me to get out and never come back to this place. He's going to stride over here and ask me what the hell I think I'm doing, whether I was some kind of fool for thinking this would actually work. And I knew I deserved it. I had evaded all my feelings and messed around with Everett's heart for far too long.

But instead, Everett's dad jerked his head towards the staircase, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. My jaw went slack in disbelief. Was he...? No, he couldn't possibly mean that.... He nodded at me again, more encouragingly this time.

Almost not daring to hope, I skidded across the floor and ran up the wooden stairs two steps at a time. Anxiety bubbled to my throat till I felt nearly sick with nerves, but I swallowed thickly and shoved it away.

Pushing open a glass door, I found myself on a large rooftop. It had been decorated for a party. Rainbow confetti littered the floor. Balloons and streamers had now come half undone. A light breeze blew used decorations across the stone tiled floor. It ruffled the corners of a photo booth backdrop, and the ends of Everett's messy black curls.

He stood there in the middle of everything, broom in hand. He didn't see me, too busy sweeping in wide arcs that only served to spread the confetti even further around. A sad, faraway look haunted his eyes, his plump lips more pouty than usual. He stared at the tips of his neon Nike's as he swept.