#joharrison

Ever since Illyana's generous Christmas gifts and the heightened excitement coursing through his veins, Ethan had been feeling extra anxious, nervous, uneasy, tense, on edge. And no amount of release had helped alleviate the rising pressure he felt with all the emotions surrounding his uncle's murder death. He was finally free of his demons, so why did he now feel more caged than ever?

He pushed out a breath as he half jogged up to the front door of Elio's old house, trying his best to push away to overwhelming need for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. A quiet grumble left him as he rang the bell and waited for the new tenant to answer the door. "Come on. Come on," he said quietly to himself, rushing them without their knowledge as he looked over the papers he'd brought for them to sign, finalizing the sale of the house and gaining his large commission - as if he needed it.

His head turned with the sound of the lock, and he plastered on his friendliest smile. "Hi. It's Mr. Harrison. You're realtor from--" he started introducing himself as the door opened, but when he saw the woman standing on the other side, his heart dropped and all the color drained from his face. He felt faint. Had it suddenly gotten hotter? He was having an aneurysm and was dying. There was no other explanation for what he was seeing. His eyes had to be deceiving him.

"Jo?" he asked barely above a whisper.

What

The actual

Noah had ordered a hundred bouquets of snapdragons. Their soft sunset hues taunted him–reminding him of his moment of weakness. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. How was he supposed to be explain a hundred bouquets?

Noah Smith had become quite the pushover. Maybe it was the insidious warm nature of Carroll it? 

When he'd invited Josephine Harrison to shoot at the vineyard, he'd planned to be casual about it. No big deal. He'd make the place look nice with a few bundles of winter flowers from the local florists but instead, he was left with this mess.

But, the prospect of seeing her smile had been enough to make him stupid. So stupid. Now, he had to find a place for all the vases and he'd run out of surfaces thirty bouquets earlier.

He glanced at his watch. Shit, Jo would be there any minute. He contempla his options, surveying his domain of flowers. They were lovely, he had to admit.

Letting out a sigh, he gave up. There was no getting out of this one after all. Maybe if he played his cards right, she'd think he'd done it on purpose as some kind of avante garde statement.

“Jo, hey,” Noah hadn't noticed the artist sneaky entrance, he'd been so lost in thought. “Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?” His hand found the back of his neck absently, a bright smile spreading across his lips. It was good to see her–good to see this person who'd once been a staple in his life. When he looked at her, he was reminded of the endlessly green landscape of Bordeaux and the sun glinting off the Garonne River. It was like he was twenty four again.

( @joharrison )