snowflake in midsummer

Had the woman not been as pretty as she was, he would probably have insisted immediately that the cab was his, and that she would find another one easily a few blocks away if she didn’t want to wait in front of the theater. He’d never had a thing for blondes, and she was more than different from his ex-fiancées, but something about her caught his attention. Her voice was soft, one he wouldn’t mind listening to for much longer than just a few minutes—even if they were merely fighting about a cab.

Her tone didn’t hide her insecurity, though she did seem dislike that exact fact. Now, that would be a nice little game to him, but the games he liked to play might scare her off just too quickly for him to get at least her name. So instead, he did what he did best: behaving like one of the children he taught at elementary school. His journey had clearly been much longer than hers, and getting his cab stolen right in front of him wasn’t something he planned to let happen.

“I’m sure about that, too, Miss,” he replied, his eyebrows raised, “but you see, I’ve had a really long day—not to mention I had to cross three states just to stand here—so I guess this cab’s actually mine. You know, besides the fact that I was the one that hailed the cab, anyway.” His power of persuasion normally wasn’t persuasive at all, but his constant complaints usually did the trick. Tell someone you had a heart attack six years ago and they’ll believe just about anything. “Do you live far from here, or do you want to ride a cab for the fun of it?” What might have sounded rude to some was cleverly neutralized by a tone that implied genuine interest, followed by a crooked smile.

“There are no long days. Your day was just as long as mine.” She opened the door, and smiled at the driver. “Good evening, sir. You can turn on the counter.” The uncomfortable feeling in her stomach was covered up by the thing she did on a daily basis - acting. Confidence wasn’t a trait Daisy would describe herself with but she was an actress and if she imagined that this situation was played on stage she might even win this cab for herself.

Daisy leaned against the frame of the open car door and found the stranger’s gaze. Something about him seemed familiar but she knew she had never met him before. Focused on his features, her body reacted before her brain did. She saw his crooked smile and the twist in her stomach reminded her that you can’t simply lose yourself in someone’s face just because they are pretty. Her fingers curled around the metal as she took a step back. She wanted more space but didn’t want to lose the ride.

“Do you really think I’d tell a stranger where I live? That wouldn’t be very smart.” While keeping up a friendly distance Daisy smiled anyway. “Would you really feel good about yourself when you knew you just left a poor girl stranded on the street of New York in the middle of the night?” He was up for a game, it was obvious but Daisy never denied to play.

Phil huffed at her remark—not as angrily as he could have, though. It was too late for him to be as angry as usual, even if she did manage to rile him up constantly. Maybe that was just going to be their thing, at least for as long as they shared a building; she was the happy-go-lucky girl, and he was the grumpy old man for all eternity. Even the slightest thought of being like this forever made him bitter. “Yeah, whatever, deal,” he retorted, close to rolling his eyes, but he didn’t ultimately. He still managed to remind himself to be as polite as he could be in this situation, after all.

He watched her move to the counter, and nodded to answer her question. He didn’t feel like talking at all, but she surely wouldn’t let him remain silent. Daisy didn’t seem like the kind of girl that appreciated silence, for she always had a reason to talk, even if it was just a remark. Tiring to him, though it spared him minutes of awkward silence he’d probably have to endure if she’d just go about searching quietly. He truly couldn’t decide what was better, or worse for that matter. “I’ve checked the counter twice,” he replied, and pointedly searched the pockets of his jackets again, “and my jacket four times now. I might have lost them somewhere on the streets, you know.” He raised his eyebrows as if offering to just let it go and drop the search.

“You did but I haven’t. And it won’t harm to check a third time.” She turned her head towards him and flashed a smile, trying to make it obvious that she wasn’t mocking him. Her whole weight was on the counter as she leaned over it and started picking up things, checking under or behind them and put them back down. Whenever she found a dusted space she whipped it with her hand, leaving her hands stained grey. Once she was sure she looked everywhere she sighed and peeked back up, biting her lower lip when Phillip noted that he might’ve lost them on the street.

But maybe you didn’t. She almost said it but something told her not to so Daisy just kept her mouth shut. Instead she stood in silence next to the counter and stared down on her dirty hands. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Daisy felt bad that she couldn’t help. Maybe this was her only chance to break the ice between them and make it possible for them to find a way to connect but she felt so clueless. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she finally looked back.

Phil let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I want to leave New York, and then the country if I got enough money.” Perhaps he’d move northwards and settle down in Canada? Or visit any place in Europe he’d always wanted to see. Leaving the US had been his plan for quite a while now, but then again, he always changed his mind about his future. One day he was thinking about how much easier life would be if he simply stayed in New York, the next day he was out on the streets and damned himself for not leaving immediately. Nothing seemed stable, except for the flower shop which had been the only constant in his life thus far. A pain-in-the-ass constant, but still there. "What about yourself? Do you plan on spending your whole life here?” he asked, surprised that he was actually trying to socialize with the usually annoying blonde. His voice however implied that no matter what her reply was, he was going to judge her anyway; Phil blamed it on the lack of sleep rather than the desire to judge someone for no reason. Awaiting a response, he moved on to the last remaining pots on his side of the shop. To him it was pretty clear that he wouldn’t find his keys in any of them, but there was at least the smallest glimmer of hope. As he heard her fumbling around with a pot—Phil assumed that she’d almost knocked it over—he asked himself whether it had been that much of a good idea to ask her of all people to help him. Ignoring it as much as he could, he finished checking the last pot for the keys, and even the last glimmer of hope vanished. He did have to call the lockout service, and that would rob him of another night of sleep. Phil moved over to the blonde’s side just as she sneezed once again. “I’m pretty sure we won’t find the keys. I guess you should rather go back to sleep—since you’re sick, you know.” Phil folded his arms and shrugged, a gesture he probably used far too often in her presence. It certainly made him look like a guy without a plan, though saying that he did have a plan regarding any aspect of his life was definitely an overstatement.

"I don't know. I used to think that I had it figured out but I decided to not make any plans. I don't want to be bound to one place. At least not for now." Ever since her father got married again in france, Daisy dreamed of moving there. The french riviera haunted her daydreams ever since she was there for the first time. But then she got older, her half-sister was born and eventually Daisy realized that even though she always thought of her father as part of her future, for him she was part of his past which he left behind in New York.

When she saw him walk over to her, Daisy smiled in his directon. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all? Maybe he got stuck at the wrong place and it affected him more than he wanted to admit? At least it would make sense and Daisy could start to wrap her mind around him and his behavior. Knowing that someone was bitter for a reason was easier to understand than groundless hatred.

"It's nothing, I'm okay. I don't want you to have to stay here for the night. We'll find it." She kept up the smile and moved on to the last pot and quickly searched it. She pushed the leafs aside and peeked but there was nothing to be seen. With a sigh she faced him once more. "Well, it's not there but maybe..." Daisy paused and looked around the room. She had no idea why she wanted so badly to help him, she simply did. She scanned the room like the keys were a criminal, trying to hide, until she eventually shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know, I'm sorry."

Phil could tell from the way she behaved that she was feeling almost as uncomfortable as he did. It was an unsual feeling leaving his own “territory” and invade someone else’s, especially since it was hers. He almost regretted the decision to ask her for help, but she hadn’t yet rejected him—which might have been a good sign. He put his hands into the pockets of his pants and shrugged once more. “Well, I kind of fell asleep a few hours ago and can’t find the keys to lock the shop door.” He sighed and shook his head slightly in disbelief. Why on earth had he told her that?

"Anyway, perhaps you’ve seen them somewhere when you went through the shop? Or you could help me find them—if it’s not too much to ask for." He dropped his gaze and let out a bitter laugh. None of this was worth embarrassing himself. "I really wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I’ve been searching for about an hour now, and—," he stopped, not knowing how to continue the sentence. His whole reasoning sounded as if he was trying to vindicate himself for the dumbest crime ever committed. All he wanted was to get back to his shop right away and sleep.

When he told her what happened Daisy wanted to laugh but it obviously had to feel like jumping over his own shadow to ask her for help, so she kept quiet. Instead she put on a friendly smile, like it was the most normal and common thing to happen. Unlike him, she wasn't going to make him feel bad without a reason. It's stepping on the higher ground, how she liked to call it.

"Well, we really shouldn't waste any time standing here, should we?" She stepped outside, closing the door behind her and walking past him downstairs. Screw her outfit. This dude managed to lose his keys to the store inside of the store. She could walk outside in her pajama without having to swallow her pride. 

Once downstairs, she turned around and waited for him to follow. "Where did you look already? So I don't do any doubles...unless you want me to."