The Space Between Us(103)

**You’re ridiculous.**

**I trust you got my flowers.**

**Shut. Up. I got your flowers. You’re an ass.**

**We’ve covered that already. Let’s talk about your ass and when I’ll get to see it next.**

**You’ll get no sexy talk from me after that stunt you pulled.**

**I don’t respond well to threats, Bit.**

**Not a threat.**

**We’ll see.**

His last text was confusing and I was wiped out from making some final arrangements for the show. All I had left to do tomorrow was pick up my dress and try to relax.

**I’m headed to bed all alone. Too bad you’re not here to keep me warm.** I texted him, hoping to tease him and get him riled up.

**Now who’s the ass?**

**Sweet dreams.**

Friday came and I admitted I was a little disappointed when there were no flowers on my breakfast tray. I even frowned a little when there were none waiting at the concierge desk. I shook it off and continued on to my appointment with a stylist my agent insisted I hire for the event. The meeting we had six weeks prior proved to be exhausting and an experience I never wished to have again, but here I was, at her mercy, and dreading it.

“Elena,” I said as I gave the petite blonde woman a kiss on each cheek. She was European and insisted double-cheek kissing was the polite way to greet someone. I didn’t have to balls to argue with her about it. She’d been in the states for over twenty years, but her accent was still thick and her scary attitude even thicker.

“Charlie, your dress is here. You try on.” I nodded at her and followed her back to the dressing rooms of her boutique. She showed me to a room and, sure enough, my dress was hanging on a hook. I delicately took it off the hangar and slid it over my body. I had to admit; I loved the dress. It was beautiful. Black satin gathered at the waist with a twist and a tasteful bow, one shoulder, and it flowed out at the bottom to create the most gorgeous, yet manageable, train. I loved it. My olive skin and dark hair looked good against the shimmering black of the fabric and it looked classy, yet sexy.

“I think it looks pretty good,” I said as Elena’s eyes bulldoze over me. I was waiting for her opinion because, honestly, it was the only one that mattered.

“Dress is perfect,” she said with a dramatically rolled ‘r’ as she says dress. “I do an excellent job.”

“So… that’s it then?” I asked, confused. I was prepared for a three-hour ordeal.

“Do you think there is something wrong with dress?” She asked, perching her hand on her hip, cocking a perfectly tweezed and drawn-in eyebrow at me.

“No, God, no! I love it. I was just checking.”

“You take off dress. I have it delivered to your hotel tomorrow after pressing.”

“Ok, then.” I had obviously offended Elena. I took the dress of, delicately hanging it back up and leaving it on the hook I removed it from. I went to leave the boutique, but Elena stopped me, making sure to kiss both my cheeks. Alright then.

With an extra few hours I hadn’t planned on, I decided to walk back to the hotel instead of taking a cab. It was a beautiful afternoon in the city and I felt much more at ease being here than I had even a few days ago. Something about being here solely for my art, and talking with Asher about the things that were bothering me, had made the city not so excruciatingly lonely for me. I still felt like a visitor, but more like a visitor who was happy to be there. I could enjoy the city, not feel overwhelmed by it.

After a few hours of strolling through the streets, admiring the buildings, wandering through parks, I finally made it back to the hotel. Again, I was disappointed with the lack of over-the-top flowers waiting for me on the counter. It was nearly dinner time and I still hadn’t gotten any flowers. Maybe he took me seriously and stopped sending them.

“Ma’am!” I turned back to the concierge desk with a wide grin and the woman rolled her eyes at me. She waved me back over and when I got to the desk she leaned forward. “This display is far less impressive. You might want to hold out on him.” I quickly leaned back, moving away from her with a confused look on my face.

“Excuse me? That’s rather rude.” She shrugged her shoulders at me and placed a small clear container on the counter. When my eyes fell upon it and registered what it was, my hand came up to cover my mouth and my eyes immediately began to water.

On the counter sat a clear plastic container that held a single, coral colored, rose corsage, on a bed of baby’s breath.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my hand still covering my mouth.

“Here’s the card,” she said with irritation as she slid it across the counter. I took it with trembling hands.

Bit, coral roses symbolize desire. I desire you, in every sense of the word: physically, emotionally, intellectually – did I mention physically? When I first gave you this corsage when we were fourteen, I hoped that one day you would be mine in every way. I desired you. Today, I give you this corsage with the same hope. I want you for myself. I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer to spend forever with you. Hoping to be all you desire, Asher. P.s. Don’t forget to tip the delivery guy.

I looked up at the woman with tears in my eyes, confused by the last part of the note.

“Is the person who delivered this still here?”

“Yes,” she said as she pointed to a chair in the lobby.