Page 17 of One More Chance

Harper

Let’sjust say the past two days have been interesting. From the moment Jensen did his flirty fake goodnight whatever on the porch, he’s been…interesting. We’ve continued to play the getting-to-know-each-other game, divulging random facts to each other throughout the day either by text or when we’re together in person. Some are trivial, some more serious. Our favorite snacks, how our first kisses went down, our celebrity crushes, and whatever else the mood calls for.

As if that’s not enough, he fucking flirts with me. And he expects me to flirt back. Which I’ve discovered I’m horrible at, except when I’m impressing him with how many Eminem lyrics I’ve memorized and can recite. Of course, I can’t rap them fast like he can, but I know them by heart all the same.

“What’s in two days again?” Jensen asks me as we walk a trail through the property.

“The bridal luncheon.”

“Where women have tea and sandwiches on the lawn?” he asks.

“This isn’t a country club,” I say, laughing. “More like, women eating platters of meat and doing shots of bourbon in a plowed corn field.”

“Wow, okay. Party time,” he says.

“Pretty much.” I laugh, recalling my own bridal luncheon. One decent memory I have because Charles wasn’t involved.

“Wait, does this mean you’re going to get drunk?” he asks.

I nod. “Probably.”

“Are you gonna drunk text me? Or want to make out?” He pokes his elbow into my ribs.

“What? Oh my god, no.” As I say it, I feel my cheeks getting hot.

“You know, maybe liquor will be just what you need to be a little more flirtatious.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” When I look over at him, I notice he’s stopped.

Jensen’s staring out over the back field, at all the sunflowers in full bloom. “Wow,” he says. “This is incredible.”

I look out over the field, the heads of the tall sunflowers bobbing as the breeze passes through them. “They are pretty.”

“I read somewhere that they face the sun, but when they can’t find the sun they face each other.”

“As beautiful as that is, it’s not true,” I say.

“No?”

“Unfortunately not. By the time they’re full grown, they’re pretty well stationary but will follow the sun a little.”

“They’re pretty like you. And I don’t know why, but they feel kind of shy. Like you,” he says.

“You think I’m pretty like a sunflower?”

“Yes. Somehow so grand but understated. A little overlooked, or underappreciated. Maybe that’s what I mean,” he says.

I know I’m blushing at this point. I feel the heat over my cheeks, spreading down my chest. “And shy, too?”

“Yeah. Like, you don’t realize you’re a sunflower,” he says. “Look at that field. So breathtakingly beautiful, just existing, but content just following the sun.”

I swallow hard. He said breathtakingly beautiful. Whoa. That’s a bit more than pretty. I don’t know that anyone’s ever called me something like that. Of course, he’s got the “content” part wrong. Very wrong, I think. I feel it more and more each day.

Jensen looks at me, pulling his eyes from the flowers as he smirks.

“Content,” I whisper.

“What?” he asks.