(Ruby's POV)
Chapter 19: Petals & Panic (Ruby's POV)
If you'd told me a month ago that I'd be going on a semi-kind-of-maybe-a-date with Sam Walker, I would've flat-out laughed. Or passed out. Probably both.
But here I was.
Standing in front of my closet with Becky sprawled across my bed and Felix pretending to be a fashion designer.
"You can't wear this," Felix declared, holding up a plain navy hoodie like it was a piece of cursed clothing. "This says 'I'm here to borrow a pen, not your heart.'"
Becky snorted. "It's not a wedding, Felix. It's just the art exhibit."
"Exactly," he said, tossing the hoodie aside. "Which means it has to be casual but stunning. Subtle but poetic. The kind of look that makes someone rethink their entire existence."
I groaned and flopped onto the floor. "Can I just be invisible? That would be easier."
"No," Becky said. "You've been dreaming of this forever. You're going. And you're going to look cute."
"I can't do this," I mumbled into the pile of dresses on my bed.
"You can," Becky said, pulling out another floral top and holding it against me. "You will. And you'll thank us later when Sam can't stop staring."
"Or drooling," Felix added dramatically, sprawled across my beanbag like some shirtless Greek god in a toga—except fully clothed and very annoying.
"I'm not going on a date!" I protested.
"Suuuuuuuuuure you're not," Becky muttered as she shoved hangers aside in my tiny closet. "You're just going to a two-person art exhibit with your longtime crush who thinks you're cute, but go off."
I buried my face in my blanket and screamed. Muffled. Dramatic. Full-body humiliation.
This was torture. I had never even gone to the movies with someone one-on-one before—unless you count that time in middle school when Felix tricked me into watching a horror film and I didn't sleep for a week.
But this was different. This was Sam.
The girl I used to write anonymous letters to. The girl who used to walk by me without a glance—and now invited me out alone.
My stomach had been in knots since Thursday. And now it was Saturday morning, and I had exactly two hours to get ready and hopefully not faint.
"Okay, this is it," Felix declared, holding up a simple, cream-colored blouse and a navy-blue floral skirt. "It's soft. It's pretty. And it's giving 'I'm an angel, please fall in love with me.'"
"You're giving fashion designer with too much caffeine," I muttered.
"Take it," Becky said. "You look adorable in it. And we're doing your hair next."
"No makeup," I warned.
They got me ready like I was being launched into space. Becky did my hair in a half-up twist that made me feel like someone who drinks herbal tea and writes poetry. Felix declared it "ethereal cottagecore chic."
"I barely put on any makeup," I said.
Just a touch," Becky negotiated. "Light gloss. Maybe a dab of blush. I'm not going full glitter fairy on you."
"Fine," I sighed. "But if I look like a doll, I'm blaming both of you."
"Just some blush and lip balm. You're glowing already."
I was. But probably from nerves.
My brain wouldn't stop monologuing.
You're going out with Sam Walker. She said your name. She texted you to meet her. She's picking you up. This is not a drill.
"Just a touch," Becky negotiated. "Light gloss. Maybe a dab of blush. I'm not going full glitter fairy on you."
"Fine," I sighed. "But if I look like a doll, I'm blaming both of you."
We laughed, but deep down, my nerves were mounting. Becky pulled out my desk chair and sat me down while she brushed my hair gently, twisting back one side with a tiny silver clip.
Felix, meanwhile, lay upside down on my bed, his legs flopped over the headboard.
"You're going to be fine," Becky said, her tone softening as she looked at my reflection in the mirror. "She likes you. You just have to let yourself believe it."
"I think my heart's going to burst if I do."
"Then burst cutely," Felix chimed.
One Hour Later...
The outfit was chosen. The light makeup had been applied. My bag was packed with tissues (just in case), gum, and sheer panic.
"Okay, now the group chat must be updated," Felix said dramatically, flopping onto the floor and opening our three-person thread: "Disasters & Dorks."
Felix: Operation Ruby-Date has officially launched. Our girl is armed with flowers and nerves.
Becky: Don't forget the emergency chocolate in her purse.
Ruby: I can still cancel.
Felix: I swear if you do, I'm chaining you to the art gallery wall like an exhibit piece.
Becky: Don't tempt him. He has zip ties in his bag.
"You guys are insane," I muttered.
"We're your insane," Becky grinned. "And we want this to go well. Because for once, you deserve something magical."
Her words hit something in my chest. Something warm. And terrifying.
Outside the Gallery...
I stood near the entrance, hugging my arms. The breeze tugged at the hem of my skirt. My hands felt clammy. Every voice walking past sounded like Sam's.
And then—
"Hey."
I turned.
There she was.
Sam Walker. Hair tied back loosely, denim jacket over a soft black tee. Simple. Confident. Absolutely lethal to my brain.
"You look—" she paused, eyes skimming over me like a quiet compliment. "Nice. Really nice."
My face burned. "Thanks. You too."
And then… we walked together.
Two steps. Then five. Then through the gallery doors.
It was quiet inside. Cool, white-walled, and echoey.
And for some reason, the quiet made me bold.
I darted toward the first painting—a burst of color shaped like a bird in mid-flight—and grinned.
"This one feels like breathing underwater," I said before I could stop myself.
Sam blinked. "What?"
"Sorry," I backtracked. "That probably sounded weird."
"No, say it again."
I turned, surprised.
She smiled. "Breathing underwater. I like that."
And just like that, my shoulders relaxed.
We walked. We whispered. We shared impressions and colors and stories.
Sam watched me. Not in a judgmental way—but like I was something she'd just discovered existed.
"I want to be an artist someday," I confessed as we paused in front of a piece with stormy blues and silvery streaks. "Like… have my own little studio. Teach maybe. Even hold an exhibit."
She didn't laugh.
Instead, she said, "When you do, I'm hosting your first one. Fully sponsored."
My heart hiccuped.
"Don't joke."
"I'm serious," she said, voice calm and sure.
I looked away, embarrassed by the way her words felt like promises.
And then—chaos.
"Oh my god," I hissed. "They're here."
Sam followed my gaze.
Becky and Felix. In sunglasses. Indoors. Felix holding a churro like it was a spy tool.
"Don't tell me you two stalked us," Sam deadpanned.
Becky sighed. "She was gonna faint. We couldn't risk it."
"You would faint," Felix added. "Probably halfway through the watercolors."
Sam laughed. "You're already here. Come join us."
And just like that—we were four again.
Later, as we stood in front of a triangular sculpture, Becky tilted her head.
"What even is this? A slice of cheese?"
"It's a metaphor for beauty," Felix said, clearly making it up. "The mystery of a single line. The echo of form and function."
"Okay, Plato," Becky rolled her eyes. "Who's the most beautiful person you've ever seen then?"
Felix shrugged. "I'll tell you someday. When the moment's right."
She huffed. "That's vague and annoying."
"It's also true," he grinned.
Becky looked away—but her ears were red.
Lunch followed. Then came the plan for the rest of the day.
"Gaming zone," Felix said, clapping once.
"But it's so far," Becky whined.
"Local bus?" I suggested timidly.
Sam stood. "Nope. Follow me."
We did.
To the entrance.
And then—
White Lamborghini.
Felix choked on his water. Becky nearly fell down the stairs.
"YOU OWN THIS?!" they yelled in unison.
Sam shrugged. "Didn't come up in conversation."
She opened the front door for me.
"Front seat's yours."
I nearly died on the spot.
Music blasted. Felix screamed every time we turned. Becky filmed everything. I felt like I was in a dream.
[End of Chapter 19]
Maybe it wasn't a date. Maybe it wasn't anything at all.But the way she looked at me today… it felt like a beginning I never dared to hope for.