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“A few times, but I’m a sucker for hearing it again.”
I hurry to the employees’ area, knowing she must have left it in my locker.
When I open the door, I see exactly what she meant by fancy. Whatever it is, it comes in a long, blood-red silk box.
I hold it against my chest, my heart hammering, because I’m pretty sure I know who it’s from: William.
Who else would send me something—fancy or not? The last delivery I got was a pair of tweezers from Amazon, three months ago.
I run my fingers over the fabric, feeling its soft texture, and when I finally open the box, I see a single red rose inside, plus a note and a velvet case.
I would have been thrilled if it was only the flower, but I start deflating when I realize he thinks he can impress me with jewelry. I may be poor, but I’m not for sale.
I’m tempted to throw everything in the trash and return the velvet box unopened as soon as I see him at his grandmother’s house. But my curiosity about the note wins out.
I slip into one of the bathroom stalls and sit on the toilet lid. I’ve never felt so conflicted. On the one hand, I want to read what he wrote; on the other, I’m afraid I’ll just be more disappointed.
Still, I know myself—I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t check the note.
To my surprise, when I open the envelope, there’s a card and also a ticket to a New York Philharmonic performance.
Oh my God, I can’t give that back! It’ll be the most thrilling event of my life!
I check the date.
It’s the day after tomorrow, my night off. That’s no coincidence. He’s a control freak—he must know which night I’m free.
I open the card, and it contains only one sentence:
For you to keep having nice dreams.
He remembered what I told him that night we talked—when I explained that just having the chance to earn a music scholarship had been a nice dream.
God, what does this mean?
On the one hand, he treated me like any potential conquest, but on the other, he was sensitive enough to give me something he knew I’d love.
So now what do I do? I’m definitely returning the jewelry, but I can’t pass up the chance to see the orchestra.
I open the jewelry box, and I’m amazed at the gorgeous blue hue of the gemstone—it’s the color of my eyes.
It’s not the first time a man has chased me, and normally this kind of pushy approach would send me running as fast as I could. But that’s because I’ve never felt this drawn to someone before. It’s like he’s patiently weaving a web around me, and instead of feeling trapped, I want to get caught up in it even more.
I snap the jewelry case shut, determined to keep the rose and the concert ticket, but just as determined to return the earrings.
I stare at the concert ticket in my hand.
Is he going to join me, or does he just want to give me a nice night out?
It doesn’t matter. I’m going.
I’d like to thank him, but I don’t even have his phone number.
Oh, well. I’ll just tell him “thank you” when he shows up at his grandmother’s, and that’s when I’ll return the jewelry.
* * *
“It must be incredible to see a live concert.”