February 21st, 1:28pm

Valentine’s day was over and Tim was as grouchy as usual. That’s why he immediately noticed Antwan’s Timberlands. Shoes that did not fit the strict work uniform requirements of a flower company. 5 minutes of “professional discourse” later and Antwan got to keep the shoes. Just for today.

Although he played dumb to the best of his abilities, he and Tim both knew that Antwan didn’t forget. The secret was why. Why did Antwan break the dress code for the first time in months? Well, Tim didn’t recognize the address associated with the 1:30 delivery. But Antwan did.

After seeing the schedule a few days ago, Antwan brought his best shoes. That cute brown guy probably didn’t give a shit about what the delivery man wore. But Antwan felt sexy in his Timberlands. Professionalism be damned, he was going to wear them. 

The suede shoes clicked satisfyingly on the pavement as he walked up with the small bouquet. It was smaller than the one from last week. But still red and white. The note was the same too: You are beautiful. You are incredible. You are loved. 

Three knocks on the door was all it took. Before the fourth, the door to the small gray house swung open and the cute brown guy emerged. His wavy black hair hung loose, just grazing his shoulders. His face was bright and flushed with color. 

He looked happier. He looked straight into Antwan’s eyes when he smiled. 

“Hey,” the shorter man said breathily.

“Hi,” Antwan replied. Antwan didn’t know what would have happened if he forgot about the flowers in his hand. With how impulsive he was last time, Antwan could have said anything. But he did remember. With his typical apathetic professionalism, Antwan handed off the bouquet.

“I’m guessing you decided to keep up with the, uh, practice,” Antwan commented.

“Yeah.” Drawing the flowers into his chest, the shorter man glanced away, shyly. “It wasn’t so bad the first time.”

Oh

It wasn’t bad because of Antwan. He made it a good valentine’s day. If not for his dark, brown skin, Antwan would have blushed.

“Thank you for that, by the way,” the brown man added on. “It made last Wednesday more bearable.”

“You’re welcome.”

Those two words could have been enough, a natural end to the conversation. But Antwan didn’t take the opportunity. He wanted to know more about this man and his self-gifted flowers.

“I’m Antwan, by the way.”

“I thought so after the note,” the shorter man chuckled. Right, Antwan was the genius who wrote his name on a customer’s expensive order. Made sense for that customer to remember. “My name’s Sunny. Technically Sundar but Sunny’s fine.”

“Sundar,” Antwan echoed. When Sunny said his full name, a distinct accent came out. His voice grew deeper and his tongue curled up at the last R. The singular word was highlighted in Antwan’s mind, like he suddenly started singing in the middle of his sentence. The sound of it was beautiful. 

Antwan wanted Sunny to say it again. Or say anything in the language that made his voice become so melodic. He settled for a more appropriate request.

“What does it mean?”

Sunny had been toying with the paper wrapped around the flowers. His movements stalled at the question and he bit down on his bottom lip.

“Beautiful and good I think,” Sunny muttered, as if hoping Antwan wouldn’t hear it. “But most people in India don’t even think about it anymore.”

“Beautiful,” Antwan hummed thoughtfully. Their eyes met and Antwan smirked. “It suits you.”

Shit.

Antwan didn’t mean for that to sound so flirty. But Sunny’s mouth just popped open in surprise and Antwan was struggling to figure out how to play it off. It wasn’t really flirting. Antwan genuinely thought that Sunny was a very beautiful man. His parents did a good job picking a name that suited him. 

But his black jumpsuit and the truck parked on the curb indicated that he was here in a professional capacity. He shouldn’t even be having this conversation. If Tim found out Antwan was going around telling customers that they’re beautiful, he could say goodbye to his 9-5.

He wanted to change the subject, but words suddenly evaded him. And Sunny wasn’t saying anything either. He had his beautiful lips sealed tight, staring intently at his welcome mat instead of the man standing on it. Sunny started playing with the paper encasing the flower stems again, catching Antwan’s attention. Words came easily when he thought of plants instead of really attractive men. 

“You know, since you bought them as a positive thing, you might want to consider changing the flowers.”

“What’s wrong with my flowers?” 

The shorter man’s face dropped as he peered down at the white willows. His expression switched from hesitant excitement to total unconfidence. The rapid change made Antwan panic.

“Nothing’s wrong, really,” he rushed out, stepping forward unconsciously. “It’s just that those pink flowers represent danger ahead and willow flowers represent sadness.” 

“Sounds a lot like my life so far,” Sunny joked tiredly, wearing a wry smile. Antwan laughed along, the movement making his shirt brush the bouquet in Sunny’s hands. 

With Antwan so close, Sunny had to lift his chin up to look the black man in the eye. The action accentuated his dark eyes and the long lashes that framed them. Antwan clenched his fists at his sides before he did something stupid.

“Sorry, that wasn’t really important,” the black man apologized, laughing in a self-deprecating way. “They just have it on the company website and I got curious so…”

“It’s alright. I appreciate the tip.” 

A gust of wind swept past, causing goosebumps to emerge all over Antwan’s arms. It became all too clear how long he’d spent standing out here with Sunny. Sunny must have thought the same because he winced.

“Sorry! I’m keeping you from your job! Um-” 

Sunny looked from Antwan to his ‘sad flowers.’

“Do you have any recommendations for next time?”

Antwan’s brain held onto the ‘next time.’ He’d only seen this man twice and was already excited to think there could be a third. Since he looked at plants all day, their meanings flew through his mind with ease. Sunny’s flowers shouldn't be a plain expression of love. The bouquets he bought represented so much more. So, they should be more hopeful, like the man who bought them.

“How about white roses?” he suggested. “For new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” Sunny repeated with a smile. “I like that.”