Ayla had come to the conclusion that working without the prospect of a visit from Oliver wasn't all that fun. And that daily visits from Casper Bradford just weren't quite the same. Apparently after she had run out on New Years Eve Kristina had taken it upon her self to give Casper all of Ayla's contact details, including where she worked. Because of this Casper had dropped into Quality Quidditch Supplies every day that week. It was Friday and Ayla was hoping to Merlin that he had finally taken the hint. It had been especially difficult to convince him that she couldn't meet up with him, or go on any dates because she was far too busy with her job. This was mainly because whenever she said as much the shop would miraculously clear of all customers.
Still he hadn't turned up yet and that had to be a good sign. Ayla really didn't know why Oliver hadn't been in to see her. She was sure he'd be running out of broom polish by now. Big deal if he'd seen her kissing someone else. What was he, her father? Storming out with that disappointed look on his face. Now that she thought about it she shouldn't be worried about him, she should be angry at him. She had tried to talk to him, she'd ran after him, and he had just walked off ignoring her. Stupid idiot needed a Bludger to knock some sense into him. Obviously not playing Quidditch for a few days had seriously addled his brain. She hoped he would come in today. So she could give him a piece of her mind.
And, for once, Ayla's wish was granted. Shortly before closing Oliver entered the shop. Much to Ayla's annoyance he pretended like nothing was wrong. The absolute utter cheek of it, she thought, well she'd show him.
"Hw dare you come in here and act as if nothing's wrong. Who the hell do you think you are to ignore me and not even apologise for being a complete and utter prat. Just because everyone knows your name doesn't mean you can treat people like dirt. What was it? You didn't like not being the centre of attention for a change, so you decided to throw your rattle out the pram is it?" she paused for breath. "You, you child!"
Ok so the ending had been a bit weak, but at least she had gotten everything out. And best of all he was lost for words.
"Look" he started.
"No you look." she picked up a pot of broom polish and threw it at him. He caught it of course, bloody show off. "Oh just get out!"
"But-" he looked completely lost at this point. It was definitely a new side to her that he hadn't expected.
"Out!" she screamed at him this time.
He practically ran through the door, and Ayla couldn't help but smirk at the result of her anger. Of all the stupid, ignorant, arrogant and annoyingly adorable men in the world, why did she have to have feelings for him? Yes she had feelings for him, despite the fact that he sometimes could irritate her to the point of hexing herself. Sarah was right, men were more trouble than they were worth.
She began to shut up the shop, grateful to have finally gotten everything off her chest and that she could now curl up in bed and not worry about stupid things. Though to be truthful, she wasn't looking forward to going home to an empty house. It had been well over a fortnight now since she had seen Jynx, her kneazle. The more Ayla thought about it the more she worried she'd never see her pet again. Sarah had been a great help of course. She had sent Melvin, her husband, out on several rescue missions and constantly assured Ayla that any day now the beast would turn up. But it had been a fortnight, two weeks, fourteen days. And nothing. Not a hiss, or a meow. Not one softly padding foot in her now empty cavern of a house. Now more than ever she felt truly alone.
"Hey Jynx, you home yet?" she called. She didn't know why she did it each time she came home. Even if her pet was home he wasn't likely to greet Ayla with a friendly hello and ask her how her day had been. It was worth a try though right? But there was no answer. She hadn't really expected there to be one. As she hung up her cloak by the door the fireplace burst into an emerald green blaze.
"Delivery for Miss. A. Jenson, from Miss. Fluffikins Flowers." a thick London accent echoed through the small house. Ayla found herself running to the front room, though who she expected to find was anyone's guess.
"Miss. A. Jenson?" said the voice again. It belonged to the head that was currently sitting in her fire place.
"Yes?"
"Miss. Ayla Jenson?"
"Yes."
"Oh, well these are for you."
His arm shot out of the fireplace, holding the biggest bouquet of flowers Ayla had ever seen.
"Oh ok thank you."
"They're from a Mr. O. Wood. And there's a card. Would you like me to read it to you?" he grinned.
Bloody cheeky sod, she thought.
"No, thank you. I'm quite capable."
She took the flowers and he disappeared with a whoosh. Ayla placed the flowers on the couch and opened the note:
'I'm sorry. You're right I was acting like a prat. Can we still be friends? Send me an owl? Well only if you want to. Oliver x'
Well, well, well. Apparently treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen actually worked. Who knew? She couldn't help the smile that stole across her face, they were the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. She supposed she could forgive him, just this once. However, she had every intention of making him wait to find out her decision. There was no point letting him know how much of a push over she was. Besides she honestly couldn't owl him straight away, she didn't own an owl. No, there was nothing to it, he'd have to wait until after the weekend, when she could use the company owl. And serve him right.
Oliver prayed to everyone he could think of that the flowers had worked. He had hoped to be able to forget everything and get on with life. He had resolved to give Ayla the benefit of the doubt. She was a grown witch, who could make her own decisions. Even if those decisions included kissing moronic wizards such as Bradford. He had hoped she had more sense. Hell he had hoped she's rather kiss him. But he knew he had no claim to her. So they had kissed once. Neither had mentioned it since. The fact that they hadn't been in proper contact since the kiss appeared to have completely escaped both of them.
If they could just get back to normal it would all be good again. But what was normal for them? Drinking and talking about Quidditch seemed the extent of it. Of course neither of them would admit it, but both of them missed the other's company.
Oliver missed her smile, her warm and not completely perfect smile. Her laugh and the way her dark hair fell over her eyes. Ayla missed the warmth he gave off. She could get all nice and toasty just by sitting next to him. She missed the way his eyes sparked when he got passionate about something. And most of all, though she would definitely never admit it out loud, she missed his smell. A mixture of broom polish and something that was just him.
