Petals and Plot Twists (Only Magic in the Building)

by Jenny Proctor

If my life were a romantic comedy, I’m not sure I’d be the main character.

“Maybe the guy you’re supposed to be with isn’t on a dating app. Maybe he’s someone you already know.” He lifts a hand and hooks it around the back of his neck. “Someone you work with, maybe. Or…I don’t know. Someone you met in school.” I frown. “Wouldn’t I have realized it if I had? Felt something? Noticed some kind of chemistry?” “People change, Sophie,” Peter says easily. “Just open your eyes a little. Maybe you’ll see someone in a new light.”

Maybe I’m realizing I can’t lose Sophie, too. And if she falls in love with someone else, which she’s bound to do eventually, I will. Not unless she falls in love with me first.

The more I think about my future, the more I’m coming to accept the uncomfortable reality that if I am ever going to fall in love with someone else, Sophie’s going to have to break my heart first. And that won’t ever happen if I don’t try.

He brushes the wipe over my cheeks one last time, his fingers lingering before he reaches forward and tucks a stray curl behind my ear. The gesture sends a delicious shiver down my spine, and I suck in a tiny gasp. Peter’s gaze jumps to mine, and I know, instinctively, that he heard the gasp and knows it was his touch that pulled it out of me. “Done,” he says, his voice low.

“I haven’t changed, Sophie. Maybe you’ve just never noticed.”

“Have you ever noticed?” I hear myself ask. I wish I could pull back the question the second it’s out of my mouth. I’ve never talked to Peter like this. But it’s too late now. I’m already committed. He’s watching me intently, his gaze serious, but his expression holds curiosity too. “Have you ever noticed me?” I add. “Like…” I shrug and push my hands into my back pockets, needing to put them somewhere just to keep them from fidgeting. “You know. Like that.” Peter looks at me for a long moment, his expression darkening before he puts one hand on the fridge directly behind me and leans forward, his face mere inches from mine. “I’ve noticed,” he finally says. “You’re beautiful, Sophie. And I’m not blind.” His words feel like an actual caress, and for a split second, I can’t pull any air into my lungs. My heart pounds harder and harder until I finally inhale, heat spreading through my belly like warm honey. This is Peter, a part of me thinks. My best friend. Except he is not looking at me like I am just his friend.

That man has shown you every single day how amazing it could be if you would let him love you. You already know everything the flower can tell you. You know he’s good and kind and decent and worthy of your love.”

“When you’ve dreamed of kissing someone for such a long time, when it finally happens, it takes a moment for the shock to wear off.”

It feels more like I’m accepting something I’ve always known. Finally seeing something that’s always been right in front of me.

I’ve loved you for years. But this is more than that. Which, I realize it’s a little wild to say that because it happened so fast, but when we kissed, something shifted and suddenly all that love I already had for you just—it morphed into something else.”

Dear Sophie, I know I made you work really hard to be my friend. It was only because I was so in awe of you, I kept waiting for the punchline because it had to be a joke. You couldn’t actually want to be my friend. But you didn’t give up. You tried and you tried, and eventually, you wore me down. I’m so glad you did, because now, I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Soph. Even if you never love me back, I feel so lucky to know you. To be your best friend. I hope you will love me back though. If you’re reading this, it means I felt confident enough to give it to you, so fingers crossed. I love you. Peter.

“It’s only ever been you.” He leans forward and kisses me. “You stole my line,” he whispers against my lips.

It just seems too good to be true. I’ve been wishing for this on every birthday cake since the tenth grade.” I tilt my face up and press a long kiss to his lips, my hand lifting to brush along his jaw line. “Was it really every single birthday wish?” “Every single one,” he says. “Peter, that’s a lot of wishes.” “It is a lot of wishes,” he says, love and warmth in his gaze. “Thanks for making them all come true.”