The smell of fresh flowers are in every one of my senses. And I’m itching to get back to the car. The florist is taking her sweet-ass time wrapping up the peonies I picked out, and I’m painfully aware of JJ milling around behind me, mumbling to himself "What're you grunting about?"

He tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "I want a hot guy to buy me flowers."

I stare at him, waiting for his signature smirk to break, to know he's joking. "You're serious?"

“I'm just saying, flowers would be nice, y'know? The people l date always expect me to buy them flowers. It's always, 'JJ, wow, your dick is so-big', or 'you're so smart’, or ‘JJ, that was the best sex of my life.’ It's never, 'JJ, I bought you some flowers.’ Whatever, it doesn't matter." He kicks at something invisible with his foot and wanders off to look at some sunflowers.

When turn back to the florist, she's stopped working to listen to JJ's flower tragedy, too. I'm shaking my head as I reach into my pocket for more money. "Can I make it two bouquets, please?" I still have the sickly-sweet floral smell stuck up my nose on the drive back home.

JJ has a shit-eating grin on his face as he clings to his light blue peonies, {{user}}’s pink ones resting between his knees to prevent them from getting damaged.

Manipulative little shit.