If I could just huddle in the cold storage room of the flower shop for the rest of my life, I would. Keeping flowers cold minimized deterioration and water loss, slowing down the dying process and keeping them fresher longer. Coincidentally, it did the same exact thing for me as I teetered on the edge of what felt like death after last night at Sage's.

Despite the fact that I slipped away from Sage's early, I still spitefully stuffed my backpack full of stolen beer and drank myself to sleep. It was a horrible idea in hindsight, since I had to be at the Ordinary for a shipment at the ass crack of dawn.

Even though my head pounded with every step I took, and my stomach was in knots, I felt a weird sense of contentment as I sorted through the flowers. I ordered a ton of Caladium because they were in season, but mostly because they looked like prehistoric dinosaur leaves and I liked to put them in the front window.

Somehow it was easy to let time slip by me when I was there. I moved the newer roses and orchids to the front table by the door and sketched out the flowers on the stained wood with a black marker. All the smells and all the colors made it easy to lose myself. The bell on the door must have jingled at some point, but I didn't hear it.

"Even your doodles are impressive."

A voice behind me made me jump, and when I spun around, I came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes, and a smile that rivaled the sun.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I breathed out, putting my hand on my chest and feeling my hear thump against my ribcage. At that point I couldn't figure out if it was beating so fast because I was startled, or because it was her.

"I'm sorry," AJ said, her smile only faltering slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I let out a sharp sigh and leaned back against the table. "What are you doing here? Did your eucalyptus die already?"

She met my attitude with a chuckle. "Surprisingly no, not yet."

Even though I wanted to be pissed about the way she tried to pick me apart and analyze me and my shortcomings yesterday, I couldn't. She was like a little ball of warmth that my frigid body so desperately needed to cling to. I was so fixated on her and the way her freckles created little constellations on her cheeks that I hadn't noticed the cup of coffee she had in her hand, extended out to me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's coffee, duh." She scoffed and cracked a grin, but I just wrinkled my brow. She rolled her eyes. "I'm just messing with you, it's a peace offering from yesterday."

"A peace offering?" The cup was still warm as I took it from her hands, our fingers brushing against one another's ever so slightly. I felt my face flush.

"Yeah," she sighed out. "I didn't mean to be so harsh with you yesterday."

"No," I shook my head. "I uh...I definitely deserved it."

"See," she clicked her tongue. "There's your problem, right from the get-go. How do you expect any of this to work if you just think the worst of yourself all the time?"

I reached to the side and pulled a fresh rose from the bucket on the front table. "If I give you a flower, will you stop psychoanalyzing me?"

She smirked and took it from me as I twirled it between my fingers, and when our hands touched again it felt like I had been set on fire.

"I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you," she said softly. "I just...I want to help you."

I tried to hold back a scoff as I turned away from her and made my way back to the bar/cash register. I heaved myself onto the wooden bar and took a sip of the coffee she brought me. Strong but sweet, just like she was. "Why?"

Without missing a beat, she followed me back, and I couldn't help but notice the way her faded jean miniskirt hugged her hips as she walked.

Her whole demeanor changed, and suddenly I felt cold under her gaze. "Because somebody did that for me, and if they hadn't...I probably wouldn't be where I am now. Look, that group therapy stuff, it's good for sustainability. That's why I go. But for someone like you..."

"Someone like me?" I cut her off, giving her a deadpan look.

This time it was her turn to scoff at me. "Yeah, someone like you needs more help. I'm not trying to be an ass, it's pretty obvious. Rule number one about all of this is honesty."

I rolled my eyes, but she ignored me and continued.

"I don't even mean honesty with other people. I mean like honesty with yourself, about what you want, what you need, how you feel, and who you are. And right now, you are a drug addict struggling to stay clean, but that also doesn't mean you're less deserving of any help."

"Okay, and I get all of that." I looked down at my dirty, scuffed up Vans as I spoke. "But why me?"

AJ just shrugged and gave me another one of those faint, all-knowing smiles. Despite the sunkissed glow on her face, I still caught a hint of red in her cheeks. "I can tell there's a lot of good in you, and it's such a waste if you just play into this shit person everyone thinks you are."

She made me want to put my god damn heart in a blender.

"So what, you're supposed to be my sponsor or some shit like that?" I asked.

"This isn't AA, it doesn't have to be that formal." She crossed her arms over her chest and studied me with those icy eyes of hers, sending another chill through me. "You just need someone who understands what you're going through and can give you some advice and accountability. It can just be as easy as meeting for coffee once a week."

The thought of spending extended periods of alone time with her, even if it was just once a week, made my nerves buzz.

"Hold on, what do you get out of this?" I asked.

"After being helped so much when I was struggling, I feel like I should be paying it forward." She shrugged, and then glanced at me with a crooked grin. "But fresh flowers every so often wouldn't be such a bad thing either."

I shook my head at her. "Ah, using me for my flowers. I knew you had a hidden agenda."

She laughed. A good, hearty kind of laugh that I wanted to bottle up in a jar so I could hear it whenever I wanted.

"You're something else, Kai. You really are."

She turned and began weaving her way around the flower displays on her way to the door, occasionally brushing her hand over them. "I'll see you tomorrow then," she called over her shoulder.

I spent the rest of the day at the shop in a haze, sketching out lines and shapes of nothing, and all I could think about was how much I loved the way she said my name.

✗✗✗

Even though there was no group session, I had my first solo session with Just John that afternoon. It was bad enough that I had to see him and his tacky bright shirts twice a week, but based on my "evaluation," he'd been assigned as my counselor too. I sat hunched over in the cushy red chair across from his desk with my hands jammed in the pockets of my sweatshirt and my legs jittering. It reminded me of my mom's desk at the Ordinary - organized chaos - with stacks of folders and several cups and mugs with pencils and pens stuffed in them. He moved methodically and plucked my folder from the stack without even having to look.

"I know you don't want to be here," he said in a matter-of-factly tone and glanced at me over the tops of his glasses.

"What gave it away?" I grumbled.

He just chuckled and shook his head at me. "Listen Kai, this is how this is going to work - I won't bullshit you if you don't bullshit me. Deal?"

I gave a quick nod in response.

"You're an artist, right?" He asked.

"I uh...I guess so," I shrugged.

"So if you had to describe the way you've been feeling in a color, what would it be?" He kept his tone casual as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but the question was more loaded than a gun.

"A color?" I echoed, raising my eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, any color."

I rubbed my eyes and thought long and hard about how seriously I wanted to take his annoyingly existential question. AJ's words from that morning floated around in my head. Don't be the shit person everyone thinks you are. I took a deep breath before I answered.

"So you know when you bleed, your blood is red. But then when your blood dries it's like a...dark reddish brown, maybe some black thrown in there and even like...a sort of green that makes it less warm. The color is impossible to mix, and I saw a movie once about a dead painter who used his blood to achieve certain colors because they were too difficult to just mix with paint. I'm also pretty sure the paintings were haunted and they killed everyone, but you get the idea. That's the color." I stopped when I realized I had just vomited a bunch of words at this guy, and I wasn't sure if his stare was out of concern or curiosity. "Am I making any sense?"

"Oh you're definitely an artist," he chuckled. "But yeah, I get what you're saying. Muddy, dark, and a little confused."

I huffed out a breath. "Sure, let's go with that."

"It's Velvet Buzzsaw, by the way," he said with a wry smile. "The movie you were talking about. You like movies?"

I shrugged again. "I guess. I've never really watched anything without being on uppers except for like...Die Hard."

"What else do you like?" It came out as calm and as simple as asking me how the weather was. "Besides the obvious, of course."

I forced a dry chuckle. "You mean like sex and drugs and other rat things?"

He barked out a laugh, which I didn't expect. "You're a funny guy, Kai. I'll give you that."

"I wasn't really trying to be." I replied with a wry smile. "I mean...I like painting. But it's really the same as sex and drugs in the end. Sometimes it makes you feel good and sometimes it makes you feel like shit."

"Well, they say creators are their own worst critics. Do you think you apply that to other aspects of your life?"

"I uh...I don't know." I let out a sharp exhale. "I haven't really thought about it. I think at this point I'm just...trying to get by."

"You say that as if trying to get by is your only option." Just John shrugged again, and he was back to being so painfully casual, despite the fact that his questions were like to pick off my scabs. "Just so you know, it's not."