Clary Fairchild had woken up that morning thinking that it was going to be a relatively typical day with people only coming to the shop to pick out flowers for their partners or family members. But she was sorely mistaken.
It all started around 1:30 when she had just finished up with her lunch break of a turkey sandwich and lemonade when she heard the front desk bell being incessantly pressed. If she didn't know any better, she thought the bell might break under the amount of brute force being thrust upon it. Grumbling under her breath, she got up from her sketchbook and stumbled to the front of the store.
"Okay, okay, we get it!" she growled, a scowl marring her delicate features.
She saw a tall blond man quickly look up and his look of impatience was replaced with a wide smirk that she supposed was charming. He seemed to be a year-or-two older than her and was dressed in a black shirt and pants.
"Glad that someone was back there, I've been ringing this thing for the past 5 minutes," the gorgeous man said in a casual tone that oozed confidence. "And if I had known how pretty the saleswomen is, I definitely would've been more polite about it," he finished with a grin. He was planning on getting into her pants.
Oh definitely not, she thought. I've been down this road before and knew exactly your type. Clary rolled her eyes and gave her best sales smile and asked him what kind of flowers he wanted.
What came out of his mouth next what something she wasn't at all expecting. She would've thought he'd have said something about getting some arrangement for one of the many girls she was sure followed him around like a lost puppy or something like that. But this was entirely off the grid.
"I need to know how to say 'fuck you' in flowers passive-aggressively?"
Clary took a moment to the right herself and looked pointedly at him. He seemed to have read her mind because he replied smoothly, "Yes, you heard me correctly. I want to send someone some 'fuck you' flowers. I've been too all the flower shops across the tristate area, and this is my last stop, so if you could do me a favor and get those flowers for me."
"Ok, first of all, you do not get to talk to a sales rep like that. And second of all, who do you think you are wanting to send someone 'fuck you' flowers. I'm sure the thing that this person must've done isn't bad enough to warrant this kind of flower arrangement. Now because of your foul attitude and brutish man arrogance, I'd like to ask you to please leave my shop immediately kindly; I don't want to do business with someone who acts like he's still in diapers," she informed sassily. She didn't seem to notice how loud she'd raised her voice, but Clary didn't care. She didn't want this man-baby in her parent's shop.
The blond paled for a few seconds as if not used to being spoken to that way. She wasn't surprised, with his ego and the way he carried himself, no one had told him what to do his entire life. But that look quickly vanished and was replaced with a look of calm indifference.
"If you must know," the man said, looking at his nails as though there was a spot of dirt on them, "I'm getting these flowers for an asshole who got a little too handsy with my sister at a party the other night and when she told him off he got rougher. If my brother hadn't stopped him, I-I don't know what would've happened," he finished with a disgusted look on his face.
He looked up at Clary, his golden eyes swirling with emotion and felt immediately stupid. She should've never snapped at him; of course, he had stuff going on, and that's why he was so insistent on getting the flowers.
"Well, I think I can help you," the redhead smiled.
This made the man smile as well.
"I think you need a bouquet of geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations for disappointment, and orange lilies for hatred," she grinned wolfishly.
He returned her grin with fervor.
After gathering up all the flowers, Clary returned to the front desk. After the man paid for them, she asked if he would like their delivery service to bring them to the asshole's house.
"Sure, the man's name is Sebastian Verlac, and his address is 305 Alicante Drive. And could you add a little note saying 'Here are some flowers, fuck you for trying to rape my sister!' ?", the golden god said with conviction.
She nodded, making her red hair swish around. Clary promised him that she'd send it by in the next 24 hours, and with that he was satisfied. After he left, Clary was cleaning up the cash register when she spotted the man's receipt. On it scrawled in slightly messy handwriting were the words, 'Thanks for the favor. -Jace' with his number scrawled underneath. Pressing the thin piece of paper to her chest, she let out a squeal and skipped around the store.
