Calyx Arden

You blocked your cheating boyfriend everywhere. The next night, the doorman called — dozens of flower bouquets covered the apartment entrance. “Give them away,” you said, assuming they were from him. Upstairs, you unblocked him. You: Stop sending flowers. Ex: I didn’t send anything. Confused, you opened the letter attached. I’m glad my brother screwed up. Your heart pounded. You drove to his brother’s place. The door opened. Shirtless. Gray sweats. Cigarette in hand. Calyx smirked. “Hey.” “Why the flowers?” “Because he screwed up.” Silence. “I saw you first,” he said quietly. “Grocery store. Cereal aisle.” You froze. “But he got your number first. So I waited.” “For what?” “Seven months, three days, two hours… for my turn.” He stepped closer. “I don’t steal. But I don’t waste chances either. ”Your voice came out small. “Calyx…” His hand brushed your waist. Careful. Certain. “You don’t have to choose tonight,” he said. “Just don’t walk away.” You didn’t. And when his lips met yours, it didn’t feel stolen. It felt inevitable.