Cupid was in the middle of repotting daffodils in the back room when she heard the shop's bell jingle.
"I'll be right with you!" she called out.
Wiping her hands on her rose-patterned apron, she admired her work before moving to the main floor, past the tables of lavender and violets.
Her shop was small, filled to the brim with flowers and grasses, but it was enough. The hand-scrapped hardwoods, the rich sunlight that poured in through the skylights, the heavy aroma of flowers in the air. There wasn't a thing about the little store that Cupid didn't admire, and she could imagine no better job in the world for a romantic, content to help customers gift flowers to their loved ones.
Cupid smoothed her apron as she walked, looking over a section of ceramic pots to find where the customer had gone.
"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked and the question nearly got caught in her throat when she saw who it was.
The girl was a regular—and a beautiful one at that, all yellowy curls and pastel blues. Cute, even in her pinstripe suit. Cupid had assumed she was a journalist or reporter since she constantly visited the shop in her business attire, always a questioning quirk in her brow. Sometimes, when they spoke, Cupid thought she was going to pull a notebook from her briefcase, a sweetly designed thing with a teddy bear pattern, and take notes on her recommendations. Today, she stood beside a fresh barrel of lilies, gently cupping the petals of one to bring it to her nose, ringlets falling from her shoulders.
"Blondie," Cupid said with kindness in her voice.
Blondie straightened, surprised. "You know my name?"
"Of course I know the name of my best customer." Cupid's mouth spread into a full smile, lips like roses. "What can I help you with? Need more flowers for your apartment? Another arrangement for your mother?"
"No, no," Blondie insisted, turning to fiddle with the steel nameplate of the lilies. Cupid watched as sunlight warmed the finer features of her face, bringing softness to the blue of her eyes and highlighting the curved bridge of her nose. "I was thinking something a little different."
"Oh?"
"I'd like an arrangement for this girl I like."
Cupid's smile faltered with the thud of her heart. She didn't know why, but the thought of Blondie wooing a girl with flowers made her cheeks warm. At least, she could easily see the pastel girl giving flowers, blush blossoming on her fair skin. It was an adorable thought, one Cupid couldn't easily shake.
"She's really into flower language, see, and I was hoping you could help me find an arrangement that would tell her how I feel." Blondie caught Cupid's gaze from the corner of her eye. "Any recommendations?"
"O-Of course, sure." She shook herself and began to maneuver around the tables of flowers, thoughtfully pointing at each grouping as she walked and naming its meaning in her head. She pressed her lips. "Calla lilies are always good for that sort of thing. They represent beauty. And yellow larantine. That tells her that you think she's sweet, if paired correctly. Of course, you'd want to add some more color to the arrangement… Do you know her favorite color?"
Blondie smiled to herself and glanced away. "I think it's safe to say she likes pink."
"I can assume she has good taste then. Pink's a lovely color," she teased, tucking a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear. "Besides, it goes nicely with the yellow larantine. Ah, I think I know just what to add." Cupid pulled a baby-pink flower with large, fragrant petals from a bunch. "Lover's cadence. This one is more of a promise, that your heart is full of love, your intentions pure. It's one of my favorites, actually," she admitted, twirling the stem.
"Then it's perfect."
Cupid met Blondie's eyes. Feeling herself begin to blush, she instead focused on collecting the flowers from their vases and folding them into the crook of her arm. "These are all good then?"
"Just right, actually."
Both girls made their way to the counter, where Cupid started to work, trimming the stems and preparing paper and complementary bits of greenery. Every so often, she would look up to find Blondie watching her work, head tilted in curiosity. She quietly giggled at the concentrated look on her face.
After Blondie paid, Cupid cinched the brown paper with a ribbon and handed the arrangement to her over the counter. Blondie gave her thanks and accepted the flowers. Her touch lingered on Cupid's hands, long enough to fluster the shop owner.
Cupid giggled nervously, a sound so clear and twinkling that it filled the room, and swept her hair away from her face. "No problem. Have a nice day!" she called as Blondie pushed on the door, a resounding jingle letting her know that the girl had gone.
Cupid let out a long breath, then rubbed the back of her neck. You've got to stop acting like a little girl around her, Cupid, she berated herself. She shook her head and made her way to the back room to finish repotting the daffodils.
–
By the time Cupid was ready to close for the evening, the sky was a cool indigo full of stars and the lamplights in the street were gleaming, washing the cobblestone in a dreamy glow. She was standing outside the shop, locking the front door, when she first noticed something on her window ledge. Curious, Cupid picked it up and turned it over, only to find that it was Blondie's flower arrangement and, nestled amongst the flowers, a card.
She plucked the card from the foliage and read the sharp script. You are more beautiful than any flower, it simply said and Cupid was suddenly glad that Blondie wasn't there to see her blush.
Noticing two nubs at the top of the card, she turned it over and realized that the nubs were the ears of a cute, stylized bear print, perhaps a business card of hers. This time, she laughed.
Cupid pressed the flowers to her nose and inhaled, the sweet fragrance making her hum. As she walked to her car, a coy smile pulled at her rose lips.