Kirsty was frozen in place as she looked at Dylan holding a bouquet of tulips. His confession was just slowly sinking into her mind. She couldn't let herself believe that what Dylan had just said was not a figment of her very wild imagination.
It was very impossible because this was the man who always put tulips outside her house. It just couldn't be. He was a snob and always frowned when they first met.
"Banana, speak up," Dylan urged her.
She blinked and looked into Dylan's blue and gray eyes. "I d-don't believe you." Finally, she was able to speak. "It couldn't be..."
"Why?" He came closer to her, almost a inch away from her before their bodies were touching. He caressed her face. "I like you, Kirsty. I really, really, really like you. The notes I roll on the stem of the tulip simply say 'have a nice day' but I worked hard for it. My penmanship is ugly and you have to stay awake so that somehow it gets better and you can read it."
