First Comes Revenge Read Online Penelope Bloom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Penelope Bloom Advertisement1

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I also didn’t quite think that part of the plan through. When you don’t know someone’s schedule, it can take a long ass time to run into them outside their building. I eventually have to give up when my legs are aching from standing all day, my back hurts, and I’m soaked through from several hours of rain and then several more hours of drying off in the cool night air while shivering my ass off.

And if I have to, I’ll come the next day, too.

Grand apology phase one? Could be going better.

24

CHARLI

For three days straight, Jameson has been standing outside my building with gray flowers. What kind of person gives someone gray flowers? I can’t figure it out, but I also don’t want to risk talking to him.

I used the back door to my building and dodged him completely the first three days. Today is the fourth day, and I’m starting to feel annoyed at myself for already wanting to give in and at least hear him out. He’s the one who taught me to stand up for myself. What would Jameson say if he was at my side right now? He’d tell me to tell himself to go fuck himself. And then I’d look at him in confusion, because that would be a really confusing thing to tell someone.

I sigh, pinching my temples as I sit in front of my computer. Jameson is probably still out there with his stupid gray flowers. I pull up an internet search and type, “what do gray flowers mean?”.

The first result says neutrality, balance, and a calm, composed atmosphere. What the fuck, Jameson? Is he trying to say I’m not balanced or calm? He wants us to be neutral? Is that it? He’s out there day after day trying to convince me to calm down?

I’m suddenly pissed.

I’ll show him calm.

I stomp down the stairs and yank open the front door. He seems surprised and a little relieved when he sees me. He stands up straighter and extends the bouquet of flowers toward me.

I take them from his hands, smile, and then toss them on the ground and stomp them in an admittedly crazy, tantrum-like show until they are nothing but pulverized petals and crushed stems.

“Calm enough for you?” I ask, then I spin on my heel and head back inside.

Asshole.

25

JAMESON

Maybe I shouldn’t compare my apology plan to rockets. After all, rocket science is complicated and I’m no rocket scientist. Clearly.

After the mild setback I suffered last night, I decided to do a little more research. As in, I looked at more than one source about what gray flowers mean. Apparently, there are multiple meanings, depending where you look. Go figure.

Kate and Cleo call me a dumbass and say this is exactly why I am supposed to be running everything by them. Blah blah. It’s fine. I made a small miscalculation and I’ll correct for it now. I’ll fix this.

My mistake wasn’t the strategy. It was trying to get too complicated.

Chocolate, though? Chocolate is pretty hard to mess up. So I wait outside her building with a box of assorted chocolates. The goal here is to win her back by inches. She’s never going to just shrug and say it’s okay and I’m forgiven. I’ve got to very gently, very slowly convince her to give me another chance. I’ve got to convince her to even listen to me and let me speak.

That’s where the chocolate is going to come in clutch.

I’m getting kind of used to the whole waiting thing. I do some air squats when my legs get stiff and jog in place at times. People look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have. I ignore them, though. It’s New York City, and a guy doing air squats with a box of chocolates is probably in the bottom ten of weird things they’ll see if they go for a walk today.

Charli approaches with a bag over her shoulder. She’s got on jeans and a t-shirt with her hair down. I watch her approaching and see she notices me. She hesitates, then starts coming, eyes blazing.

I wonder where she’s coming from. Is she working on the book? Did she already finish? Did she apply for a new job somewhere and she’s coming back from work? I want to ask her, but I know I can’t satisfy my curiosity yet.

She stops in front of me with her fists on her hips.

“Sorry about the flowers,” I say, holding the box toward her. “Apparently, the internet is divided on the meaning of gray flowers.”

Her lips twitch and I think she’s about to smile, but she just takes the box from me and turns, heading inside without another word.

That’s progress. Right? I went from flower stomping to chocolate taking. I’ll call that a win.


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