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“More often than I’ll admit,” she answers with a smirk.

Only when she sets the bag down, do I notice her other arm tucked behind her back. I pretend to peek around her, but she smirks and steps back.

“I had a really great night,” she says.

“So did I.”

“I just wanted to thank you. I know I probably don’t deserve this second chance, but thank you for giving it to me anyway.”

Then she pulls the surprise out from behind her, and holds it in front of me.

I immediately take it from her.

“You got me flowers?” I ask a little breathlessly as I study the blooms in my hand. There are carnations and daisies in the brightest yellow bouquet I’ve ever seen.

It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would’ve picked out myself if I was in the habit of buying myself flowers. I never have, because I can’t justify it when they’ll wither away in a couple weeks.

Knowing as much doesn’t make me any less happy to see them now, though. I’m giddy.

“Yeah,” she says in a low voice. “These ones made me think of you. You and that stupid shirt.”

“You love that shirt,” I gasp.

“Both things can be true.”

I shrug, wordlessly agreeing to disagree.

“This was really nice of you.”

“I can be nice sometimes, contrary to popular belief.”

I set the flowers down on the counter next to me, and throw my arms around her.

“I must be an outsider, because I already know that.”

“I thought we already knew you were an outsider,” she says.

I don’t even pretend to scoff, because her own arms come up around me and she squeezes.

Hugs are so necessary, I don’t know how anyone lives without them. I could never ever live without being affectionate and touchy, but I’ve recently realized more specifically that I can’t last very long withouthertouch.

I pull away before I do something stupid, like cry or word vomit all of my current feelings. What a disaster.

“What are you doing today?”

“It really depends on what you’re doing today,” she says, drawing the words out slowly. “I might already be missing class.”

My jaw starts to drop open, but I catch it quickly.

“You didn’t have to miss class just because I fell asleep here,” I exclaim. “You could’ve added that to your note!”

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to spend the morning with you.”

I’m a melting mess.

I rack my brain for the last time I called out of work, who’s there today, and how much I’ll have to do to make up for it.

I decide it’s worth it, and I text my co-manager.