Summary: But what is her favourite colour?
The question keeps ringing in her mind as she stares at a bunch of roses in some flower shop she has literally never walked in before. Hell, she doesnât know anything about flowers and especially not flower language, but she knows she loves to wear pinks, purples and reds. Thatâs it. Her lipstickâs always red or dark pink, her nails in these hues, her clothes in these tones.
The question keeps ringing in her mind as she stares at a bunch of roses in some flower shop she has literally never walked in before. Hell, she doesnât know anything about flowers and especially not flower language, but she knows she loves to wear pinks, purples and reds. Thatâs it. Her lipstickâs always red or dark pink, her nails in these hues, her clothes in these tones. And she loves flowers.
 The bouquet in her hands smells terribly good. Come to think of it, her date always fills the air with a pleasing floral scent. It reminds her of her lover sheâs so excited to see, reminds her of how happy she was when she accepted her date offer, how happy she is to finally be her girlfriend and how much she looks forward to introducing her to her family. The mere thought of putting a rose in her short strawberry blond hair, complimenting her sparkly brown eyes and pink glasses⊠It all seems too perfect to be true, and yet she is sure itâll be fine. Everything will be fine with her, she knows this, so she jogs with her eyes focused on the bouquet in her hands.
 As soon as she hears her footsteps, the date in question turns around, brown eyes as luminous as ever, hands behind her back and a smile plastered on her face. The amethyst earrings she wears match perfectly with her luminous aura, everything in her shimmers under the gentle and warm sun of June, light reflecting in her fair hair curling at the end, bangs almost covering her eyebrows.
 She puts her girlfriend back on the ground and picks her bouquet again. Luckily for her, the latter doesnât seem to have noticed the flowers yet, allowing her to hide them behind her back again.
âHow come youâre this early, Am?â she asks, genuinely curious but relieved she wonât have to wait for her date to arrive.
âAh, uhâŠâ She looks away, blushing. âI was just too impatient to wait at my place any longer⊠So I thought Iâd arrive in advance. Iâm usually late too, so⊠I really wanted to arrive on time, for once!â
Amandineâs eyes shimmer even more as soon as she sees the flowers, which she picks immediately and pecks her girlfriend on the cheek right afterwards.
âOf course itâs good sweetie!! These are beautiful, thank you so much!! You even remembered pink was my favourite colour!â
Another kiss on the cheek, another urge to blush like a middle schooler discovering a pretty girl for the first time.
âPink roses symbolize grace too⊠Itâs an honour to be considered gracious by your heart, sweetie.â
âGlad to know thatâs what these flowers mean, then, because itâs totally what I think.â
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