February 14, 2015 - Worth part 2

June, Jackie, Ginny, and the rest of their friend group filtered in with the kind of relaxed confidence that made them look like they were entering the cafeteria scene of a teen drama-laughing, trading secrets, already in on a joke the rest of us weren’t cool enough to be briefed on. The moment they stepped inside, their eyes went straight to the back of the room, where Kyle’s Valentine arsenal waited like a shrine. The massive teddy bear slumped against the wall. Bouquets fanned out like peacock tails. Ribbons and wrappers blooming in a pink explosion.

Their reactions were small but impossible to miss. Jackie’s lips twitched like she was fighting a laugh. June let out a tiny exhale, the amused kind. Ginny actually snorted before slapping a hand over her mouth. They wanted to laugh-hard-but they didn’t. Nobody laughed at Minnie’s gifts. That was an unwritten school rule. Even June’s group wasn’t bold enough to poke the queen bee’s hive.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly too aware of Jenny-the girl I’d slipped a rose to. My stomach tightened with the familiar dread I got whenever I remembered Paulie. That fear that I’d hurt someone without meaning to. Karma loves keeping tabs on me. What if Jenny thought it was a prank? What if she thought I was mocking her again?

She stared at the rose like it was a sparkler hissing its last warning. Then panic flickered across her face-quick, sharp-and she tucked it into the cubby under her desk like she could hide the evidence before anybody noticed.

Too late. They’d all seen it already.

“Jenny got flowers!” Ginny announced, her laugh bursting out like she’d been holding it in all morning.

Jackie leaned in with a bright grin. “Ooh, someone’s got a secret admirer.”

They swarmed her desk, cheerful-vulture style.

Their teasing wasn’t cruel-just warm, nosy, the kind you get only when people actually care about you. Still, I ducked behind my book, pretending to read the same paragraph for the fourth time. The words weren’t sticking. My eyes were doing the “focused but actually buffering” thing.

Jenny held out for a moment-her fingers gripping the underside of her desk like she was holding a bunker door shut. But her friends kept nudging, giggling, whispering. Eventually, she cracked. She lifted the rose, just an inch, just enough for them to see it. A tiny, hesitant smile bloomed on her face. Fragile. Like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have it.

Relief hit me so hard my shoulders loosened. That one smile was all I needed. The rose I’d been most terrified of giving ended up being the most important one. I was done repeating history. I wasn’t going to hurt someone again-intentionally or not.

I buried myself deeper into Twilight while they whispered theories about who it was from.

When their voices died and everyone drifted back to their seats, I waited-five seconds, ten-until Ginny sat down again. Then I finally let myself look over.

She was holding her rose.

The poor thing had wilted even more, drooping in her fingers like a tired athlete after a sprint. Ginny stared at it with a stone-cold poker face, completely unreadable. For a second I braced myself for her to chuck it at my skull.

Then her eyes flicked up.

I flashed her the smuggest grin I could physically produce. “Nice rose.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You?”

I shrugged with saintly innocence, shook my head, and returned to my book like a responsible citizen of society. Didn’t even laugh. Character development.

In front of me, Jackie was sketching already, her pen gliding over paper with that soft rhythmic scratch that always hooked my attention. The slight sway of her wrist, the tiny way she leaned into the page-those quiet things used to make my day lighter. My personal ASMR. Not that I allowed myself to stare anymore. June’s gossip had knocked that privilege out of me.

I cracked Twilight open again. Still no Jacob. My sparkly-vampire harem remained incomplete.

The teacher arrived, and the room sank into the familiar drone of lessons none of us were absorbing. After the morning chaos, even the teacher’s voice sounded like it was wrapped in cotton.

Kyle kept sneaking glances at Minnie, hope flickering every time she shifted in her seat. He truly believed the day wasn’t over yet. Minnie, though… she’s the type who’d only accept a confession if fireworks spelled her initials across the sky.

Still, he hoped. And I wanted him to win. One of us should.

Meanwhile, Joseph kept checking his phone like he was monitoring a volatile stock. His thumbs hovered over the screen like he could will a notification into existence.

They kept up their routines through recess while Mike and I ate our late lunch, watching them like scientists observing a pair of confused lab rats.

When the final bell rang, the whole room let out a collective sigh. The Valentine’s rush hit its crash phase. Mike stretched. Joseph stretched. I stretched. We were mentally gearing up for our second job: Kyle’s romantic movers.

“Al, you take the bear,” Mike said.

“Not a chance, dum-dum.” That bear was practically my height. And at five foot eight-average, perfectly respectable height-standing next to three six-foot giants would make me look like a lost toddler hugging a mascot.

Still taller than June though. Five-two king. I mused.

June and Jackie said their goodbyes. I muttered mine to my shoes.

We were just heading to the back to collect Minnie’s gifts when something soft tapped the back of my head. I gasped like a startled pigeon.

I turned just in time to catch Ginny smirking in the doorway before sprinting off like a gremlin fleeing the scene.

I looked down.

A kibble.

One single, perfectly round piece of dog food-the exact brand I carry in my bag for strays.

“Oh, screw me,” I muttered.

It hit me.

I’d shoved the roses into the same pocket where I keep the emergency stray-dog kibble. Every rose I handed out came with… garnish.

Huge chance Jackie, Jenny, and Ginny would piece it together.

Or maybe not. None of them ever saw me feed strays. Only my close friends knew. But Ginny clearly figured it out.

“I am so screwed,” I said, picking up the kibble like it was incriminating evidence.

“You wish,” Joseph muttered, still glued to his phone.

“Why do you keep checking your damn phone?” I snapped.

“I put my number in the roses I gave out,” he said proudly.

That froze both Mike and me. We exchanged a look. Honestly? Innovative. Stupid. But impressive in a Darwin Award kind of way.

“How many girls texted you?” Mike asked.

“None yet. But it’s early,” Joseph said, full optimism.

Poor bastard.

We gathered the “luggage”-the bouquets, the mascot-sized bear, and every piece of Kyle’s romantic battlefield.

On the way out, I spotted the chocolate I’d hidden earlier, still perched on the bookshelf like a forgotten treasure.

“Hey, you guys want some chocolate?” I asked casually.

Before anyone could respond, Minnie swooped in, snatched it, shoved it back at me, and said,

“It’s yours.”

“I was joking.”

“It’s yours,” she repeated, slower, firmer, like teaching a toddler how ownership works.

“You don’t want it?” I asked.

Minnie exhaled like the universe owed her compensation for dealing with us and looked each of us over.

“Dum-dums. Every single one of you.”

Kyle hovered beside her. Joseph kept refreshing. Mike scratched his head. I stared at the chocolate like it was fire.

Minnie marched out of the room, and we shuffled behind her-a mismatched parade of idiots. Three six-foot guys and me, the lone average-height dude, trailing after her like ducklings following their very tired mother.

At the gate, Pat was waiting for her ride, leaning against the post like it was her designated throne. The last streaks of sunset hit her braces, sending out little glints of light like she was transmitting Morse code to the universe. I noticed that her bouquet was held down facing downward. Like she didn't want it.

When she spotted the chocolate in my hand, her grin sharpened.

“Finally took them, huh? Those are expensive, you know,” she said, eyeing the box like a dragon sizing up gold.

“Looks like it,” I said, tightening my grip on the bouquet so the plastic wrap wouldn’t slip. “I don’t even wanna open it.”

“Where’s my rose?” she demanded, half playful, half accusation.

“You already have yours,” I said.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Where?”

I pointed my chin at her bouquet.

She shot me a look that suggested I’d insulted her family three generations back. “This did not come from you, moron. This is from a college guy who likes me.”

“Nice. Good for you,” I said. “You don’t need mine then.”

She looked two seconds away from punching my shoulder or throwing her shoe at my face. Instead, she huffed dramatically. “Give me one of the roses in that bouquet. Trade-off. Chocolate for a rose.”

“Ain’t no way. Minnie would have my ass,” I said, completely serious.

Before Pat could reply, the cab Minnie hailed for us honked. I slipped inside first, cradling the bouquet like it was contraband being smuggled across borders. Kyle and Minnie took the first cab; us designated butlers took the second.

“You’re terrible at romance, Al!” Pat yelled as the door shut behind me.

Minnie’s house glowed warm from the inside, her mom’s potted plants lined up like a floral guard of honor. She welcomed us in, and once inside the living room, we unloaded the day’s spoils: the bear slumped against the couch, the bouquets fanned out like a florist’s fever dream, gift boxes and cards strewn across the table. It looked like Cupid had broken in and ransacked the place.

Before she even finished saying thanks, Kyle texted us the plan: give him space.

So we retreated with the stealth of seasoned soldiers. Ended up sitting on the curb outside, lined up like a discount boy band that got dropped from their label. Couples drifted past us hand-in-hand, glowing and giggly.

Joseph finally stopped refreshing his phone. Mike kicked pebbles at absolutely nothing. A stray dog sniffed around near a lamppost, and when I crouched down and offered kibble, it wagged like I’d given it a salary raise.

Mike and Joseph looked like they wanted to throw rocks at every couple that passed-not to injure anyone, just to throw off their rhythm.

We waited for Kyle’s signal. Maybe he’d spend the night. Maybe we’d get a text telling us to go home.

But then the front door opened.

Kyle stepped out with a smile-the kind that was all mouth, no eyes. It stretched wide but sat heavy on his face, like he had to hold it up with muscle effort. His shoulders sagged the way mine did whenever I **** myself to look fine after messing something up. The kind of posture that said he’d set his hopes down and found they weighed twice as much.

I gave the rest of the kibble to the stray, stood up, and waited.

“Let’s go,” Kyle said quietly.

So we walked. No plan. No destination. Just four guys moving together in that unspoken way guys do-close enough to count as support, far enough not to crowd him.

After a while, when the streetlamps flickered on, I asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, studying his shoes. His posture, the way his shoulders curved inward-it was painfully familiar. That was exactly what I looked like when I tried not to look at Jackie.

But then he lifted his head. His eyes weren’t empty; they were stubborn, like a candle refusing to go out.

“No,” he corrected softly. Then, almost shyly, “But there’s still tomorrow. And being with her today was… enough.”

We fell back into step. The night air settled around us, cool and steady. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore. More like-understanding.

And my mind drifted straight to Jackie.

To how I’d snapped myself away from her because of what June had said they were doing. To how I’d **** myself to stop glancing at her sketchbook-my little source of calm. To how I’d shut down the one harmless thing that made my days feel lighter, just because the ending wasn’t in my favor. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was fear. Maybe I still didn’t think I deserved to feel anything good after Paul.

Kyle didn’t know if Minnie would ever say yes. She might never. But he still let himself enjoy the small things-a smile, a conversation, one close moment. He didn’t kill the feeling early.

If he could do that, maybe I could too.

Even if Jackie never broke up with June. Even if she never noticed the rose. Even if she never noticed me at all. Maybe it was enough to just see her sketch again. Quietly. From a distance.

Some things were worth feeling, even without a reward.