Clarke couldn’t ever remember feeling nervous around Audrey, so he was more than a little appalled to realize he had sweaty palms and something akin to… butterflies?

“Here.” He shoved the flowers at her, and she glanced down at the bouquet he’d thrust against her chest, a little smile playing around her lips that went a long way to ease the butterflies.

Her brown eyes lifted to his. “You brought me Valentine’s Day flowers?”

Clarke shrugged. “Valentine’s Day. Apology. Clarke’s an ass flowers. Take your pick.”

“The first one,” she said, rubbing a finger over one of the rose petals. “I’m going to pretend they’re the first one. Nobody’s ever brought me Valentine’s Day flowers before.”

A strange feeling tugged in his chest. “Nobody?”

“Well, my dad always used to buy my mom two dozen red roses, and he’d bring a single long-stem rose home for me and my sister. But flowers from my dad don’t really count.”

“What about these? Do these count?” he asked, remembering all the times she’d described him as a brother.

“Well, depends,” she said, looking up at him once more. “Did you buy them for me as a sister?”

She was smiling, but Clarke couldn’t quite manage a smile back, at least not the carefree, teasing kind to match hers.

“No.” Clarke’s voice was a little gruff. “I did not.”

They were not brother-sister flowers. And for all his intentions of this being about salvaging their friendship, they weren’t friend flowers, either. Friends bought friends cheerful, casual flowers. He knew, because he’d bought her flowers countless times, though apparently not on Valentine’s Day, which he was currently regretting.

Even as a guy, Clarke recognized that these flowers were different. Indulgent, lavish, expensive, and… sensual?

Pull it together, man. They’re just flowers.

Clarke followed Audrey into the kitchen, watching as she set the flowers on the counter and walked over to flick open the high cupboard door above the fridge. She teetered on her toes for a moment, waving her hand futilely.

She rocked back to her heels and pointed a commanding finger at the shelf. “Hey, six-one. Make yourself useful.”

Clarke easily grabbed the vase, setting it on the counter beside the sink as Audrey began clipping the ends off the flowers.

“These are beautiful,” she said with a little sigh, lifting one of the blooms to her nose.

“Brayden didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day?” he asked, then flinched, realizing it probably wasn’t a happy memory.