Hey! I'm so so sorry about this being a day late, but I wrote this for you! Florence was a joy to write, and I hope I did her justice
Valentine’s Day is not Florence Amber’s favorite holiday.
It honestly never has been. When she was a kid she felt left out, like it was a holiday for adults, and as she got older the little dates and half-off candies felt trite to say the least. The date itself felt random, with no importance astronomically or meteorologically. But the worst thing about Valentine’s Day was the way it made people rush.
Florence would freely admit to being an old-fashioned kind of girl. She liked classics, timeless things built to last, and she wasn’t sorry for it. However, it did make her a little, as the last person she was interested in accused her, high maintenance.
She wanted love letters and dancing and long walks, not coffee dates before heading back to the dorm of some bozo who didn’t even want to get to know her! Valentine’s Day, at least on WooMoo’s campus, was decidedly more the latter than the former.
There had been 3 confessions so far today, two of which were from people who she’d never even seen before. Florence had let them down gently, while not disclosing anything of her own life, of course. It sort of made her wish for a time before Cameron and Deja wriggled their way into her life. An impenetrable bubble of composure would be helpful in a crisis like this.
On top of the confessions to her face, there was also an assortment of gifts and cards, all in blistering shades of red and pink of course. They were rarely things she liked. The gifts were chocolates, teddy bears, flowers, that sort of thing. All examples of things she liked, but they weren’t given to her by someone she liked. They weren’t even given to her by someone she knew!
The letters were what Florence appreciated the most. She’d always adored love letters, and the effort involved made her feel like someone wanted to take their time with her. Like she was worth the time. The problem with the letters was all in the execution.
There were elementary level poetry letters, letters that tried to be funny, letters that made her uncomfortable, even letters that just made her sad. But even with all of that, even with the stack of letters two inches thick in her bag just waiting to be disposed of, there were no letters that tried to know her. No letters that even seemed to want to.
Despite the trials of the day and the smooth roil of her thoughts, Florence was feeling pretty good. Cameron had already decided to stay at her and Deja’s apartment that night for a study session that was quickly going to turn into a movie marathon. Having her two best friends together with her? That could make any day good.
The three of them planned to meet on the Green so they could walk back together, so she set her steps to the path. Florence turns quickly past a building when she sees one of the people who confessed to her this morning. It was one of the two she didn’t know the name of, maybe Alex? Whatever it was, she needed to get away.
Thankfully, the Green isn’t far. It’s not snowing currently, but the piles of it are still thick over the ground, and Florence shivers a little, thankful for her thick coat. She pauses for a moment to breathe on her fingers to try and coax some warmth back into the frigid red tips of them, and as she stands for a moment a figure shoulders past her.
She whips around in shock. The path was almost empty, there was zero need to do that! But Florence deflates when she sees that the figure isn’t there. She huffs and shoves her hands in her pockets. When she does, she feels the brush of firm rich paper against her numb fingertips. Florence can’t help but brace when she pulls it out from her pocket, holding it entirely away from her body as she flicks it open.
For all Deja’s voice is amused, her face is flat and annoyed.
She’s also dressed warmly for the weather, her usual crop top long put away. The fuzzy boots and skinny jeans amuse Florence even though the whole situation is annoying. She’s going to have to wait to see if Deja’s wearing any rings though, because her hands are covered in sleek purple gloves.
Florence sighs. Something about Valentine’s Day makes people get into such a tizzy about confessing. This attempt had at least been interesting, a pink note with swirly handwriting dictating the start of a scavenger hunt that presumably leads to the confessor. Which, weird, but points for creativity.
Cameron, arriving a moment after Deja, leans over her shoulder to see what the note says, and they make a face.
“Red ink on pink paper? I hope that scavenger hunt helps them hunt down some good taste.”
“That’s too much to ask these people,” Deja huffs.
Florence can’t say she disagrees, but…
“There’s no need to be mean.”
“Come on, Renz!” they wheedle, laying more of their weight on her shoulder, “They’re not taking the time to get to know you! Take it slow! As your best friends it’s our solemn duty to make sure you’re romanced the way you deserve.”
“Moonlit serenades included,” Deja adds with a poke.
With a sigh, warm and a little tired, Florence turns and catches Deja and Cam in a hug. The note is still held loosely in one hand, garish against the purple and black of Deja’s braids.
They all lean for a moment, before Deja pushes away, a more serious look in her eye.
“But seriously, are you okay,” she asks, concern clear. “We can always run someone off, if you need. That’s what the van is for.”
Cam gasps dramatically at that, but settles down quickly to chime in.
“Yeah, we’ve got your back.”
The reassurance is simple, but their voice is clear and quiet with it. Their lavender eyes quickly catch her own brown ones, and when Cameron smiles, she can’t help but smile back.
“Let’s go back to the apartment,” Florence says, warm at the thought of spending a day of love with the people she loves best, “I want to watch some movies.”
Cam and Deja glance at each other, confused.
“Do you wanna hit the coffee shop first or?” Cam drags out the last word, their voice dipping with confusion, until Deja smacks her arm into their stomach, and they stop with a squeak.
“What Cameron is trying to say, is that they want a drink if you’re up for it.”
Then she furrows her brows. “It’s okay if you’re not, to be clear. We can just go back.”
Florence thinks for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels. She would love to go back and just relax for a year. The apartment will be warm, and the pile of movies they’re to work through isn’t small. On the other hand, the chocolate croissants at the café just past the Green, about a block off the path to her and Deja’s apartment, are the best she’s ever had.
“I could go for a pastry,” she decides with a nod, “As long as you two keep the hounds away?”
Cameron grins brightly, their eyes squinting shut. “We’ll be your loyal knights, your majesty!”
Deja hums and then bows dramatically with a grin as she gestures for you to pass. “My liege.” Her voice is bone dry, but her eyes are warm enough to soak in and beat out the cold.
Florence just laughs and passes her by. She turns to walk backwards for a moment and asks, “What are you thinking about getting?”
Deja and Cam are both walking behind her and are both visibly thinking about her question. Finally, Deja nods to herself once, and simply says “Something pink.”
Cameron’s eyes, from where they had shut in consideration shoot open with shock. “That’s it? You don’t have a spreadsheet or a flow chart or a highlighted plan of action? Are you sick?”
Deja shoves them with a huff. “I like pink, and this is the best time to get it. It’s not like Bluebird makes me worry about it being vegan, the only thing they refuse to do is vegan croissants.”
“Still!” Cam subsides with a giggle, “You always have a plan, you know?”
They turn to Florence with a smile and say, “Right? Deja always has a plan.”
She nods solomly. “You can’t beat the allegations.”
Deja throws her hands up in exasperation. “I wouldn’t want to!”
She settles with an amused huff. “What do you want to get, Cam?”
Perking up, they start to chat about the different pastries and drinks Bluebird Café has to offer around Valentines. Cam loves Valentine’s Day, because they love the kitsch and the color.
They like people having fun with life, especially in wintertime. It doesn’t hurt that they have Bluebird’s menu memorized.
Bluebird Café is signified by the hanging sign in the shape of a diving bird painted blue, though Florence is fairly certain it doesn’t have the silhouette of a bluebird. The owner, Gloriosa, just shrugs when asked about it.
It’s a cute shop, with warm yellow lights and blue pillows and cushy chairs. Plenty of lace and scalloped edges about, and the warm smell of rich coffee and baked goods. For this whole week the staff have done the place up with pink and white crepe paper hanging between the exposed beams of the high ceiling. The doilies that dot the area are all heart-shaped and, most distressingly to Florence, they draped the plush bluebirds that nest on shelves and loveseats with red cloth.
The Bluebird has gone love crazy.
Thankfully, they aren’t planning on staying.
They get all their orders to go, though Deja does chat with the weary student working the counter. Cameron isn’t as open here as they are at their beloved diner, but all of the group goes here often enough for a quick bite and an amazing drink.
The drinks come quickly, with Florence getting what she usually does, Deja has the pinkest drink Florence has ever seen, and Cameron with a hot chocolate that has as many marshmallows as could be negotiated for. The pastries are added to a bag, and Florence waves at the student working the register as they leave.
Maybe, she thinks with a smile as she sips her drink, her friends chattering beside her, Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad after all.
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