Disclaimer: Not mine! HarperCollins owns them.
This is a sequel to Gel.
Reasoning
"You're an idiot. A fucking idiot!" Mike berated himself. He had to be. Only an idiot would stand outside an unattainable girl's door with a bunch of flowers and a fresh haircut.
Yet, he couldn't bring himself to walk away.
The simple fact was that the girl behind that door was all he had been thinking about for the past week. So much so that he had barely been able to function as a human being.
What Mike needed was the rejection. He need her to tell him that he wasn't good enough for her, which he already knew anyway. People like her didn't date people like him. That was as plainly obvious as the sky was blue.
Mike didn't care about that, though. All he wanted to do was hold a radio above his head and blast some sappy song to the heavens like that guy did in that movie. He wanted to shout his declaration of love to anyone that cared to listen. He wanted to take this girl tat had been stalking his thoughts and hold onto her forever.
Right then, he had to be content with ringing the bell and handing her the flowers.
His finger found the button, hovered above it for a second and then pressed down.
From deep within the house, the bell rang ominously.
Mike bounced on his heels and stared at the door. "Open it, dammit. Be home, be home!" He muttered.
And then, like some miracle from the heavens, the doors opened. In his head, Mike heard angel music.
"You again!" Lavinia stood there with her usual look of irritation on her face.
"Greetings, milady. I come bearing flowers and a dinner invitation. Providing milady accepts my modest offering, of course," Mike bowed.
One eyebrow lifted along with the corners of her mouth. "Are you on crack, Sparky? I don't date crackheads."
"No. There are no drugs involved." He held out the flowers and knelt before her. "If you say yes, I can promise you a good time, low-calorie food and perhaps a decaf macchiato."
"And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then I take this damned expensive bunch of flowers and feed them to my horse."
Lavinia smiled, the motion having an illuminating effect on her face. "I had no idea you were insane. Why would you want to go out with me anyway? To get back at Brad and Ashleigh?"
He blinked at her. "The thought never crossed my mind," he said honestly.
"I bet. Look, you were really nice to me the other night, but I can't see this working. We're too different," she sighed. "And get of the floor, Mike. That's disgusting."
His face fell like a ton of bricks. "Oh… I get it. You're going to be a materialistic bitch about it."
"What are you talking about? I thought I was being nice!"
"No, no. Nice would've been humoring the poor guy and joining him for one dinner, even if you never want to see him again. But, I really do get it. You aren't interested in me because my bank account doesn't have six figures."
"That's not true!"
"It is too. Why else would you date Brad? The man is an asshole on legs, Lavinia!"
"He can be nice!"
"Yeah, when he's in his Ferrari wearing Armani," Mike scowled for a second, not liking his pseudo-rhyme. "Or something like that which involves flaunting how much money he has."
Lavinia puffed her cheeks out huffily. "Now who's the asshole? You think that's the only reason why I wouldn't go out with you?"
"Oh? Is there more that's wrong with me? Am I not tall enough?" Mike stretched his 6'2" frame even taller. "Or don't you like blond men?"
Now she really didn't look happy. "I don't feel like dating anyone right now, ok?"
"Oh, ok. Should I come back next week? Next month? How about next year?" Mike shoved the flowers at her. "Actually, forget it. I knew this was going to be a mistake. But, at least I proved myself right."
He turned to go but she grabbed at his shoulder. "Ok, wait."
"You've had your chance, Lavinia. I've already made a moron out of myself." Mike looked back at her and peeled her hand of his shoulder.
"Why do you want to go out with me?" she asked again.
"Why do you need a reason?"
"Why won't you give me one?"
He relented, knowing that he had little choice but to tell her. "I liked what I saw that night at the pub."
"But I looked like shit!"
"No, you looked wonderful. The best I've ever seen you, really." Mike felt the blush creep up his face.
She frowned. "You don't have very high standards, Sparky."
"I like real girls, Lavinia. And that was the most real you have ever been. Pity that it'll never happen again." Mike glanced back at his car. "Now, I really need to scrape my heart off your pavement and go."
"I am real! I'm more real than Ashleigh Griffen and her fucking horses! Why can't people see that? Why can't they see?" Lavinia flung the flowers back at him. "Take your fucking flowers!"
Mike stared at her, amazed. "Don't tell me I have to insult you all the time to bring out this wonderful side of you."
"No. All you have to do is be there. Be there and don't ever disappoint me. That's where everyone else screwed up," she said and then looked surprised that she had just said those words.
"Oh, there will be disappointments, but I will try not to have them happen too often."
Confused was a good way to describe how Lavinia looked just then. She twisted her hands in each other, unsure what to say next.
Mike saved her the trouble. He enveloped her hands in his. "It's worth a shot."
"I will have you hunted down if you hurt me," she looked up at him seriously.
Mike grinned. "Be ready at seven. I hope you like Mexican."
Lavinia took the flowers back and clutched them against her chest. "Si, seňor."
"Excellent. Seven it is!" Mike dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead. He walked away, trying hard not to skip, bounce or dance back to his car.
She had proved him wrong and he was ecstatic.
END