I’m having fun with Zane’s POV. How about a bit more of it?
Leaning back, he yanked the stupid mask off his face. Twirling it around on one finger, he fought down a wave of nausea. The room was cool, which helped combat the hangover queasiness at least. His gaze was drawn to the bookshelf. To the tiny snow globe holding a place of honor. Maybe he wasn’t out of this yet. Distracted by the little ornament, the mask flew off his hand and crumpled on the table, the folds looking like a letter ‘Z’ in the dim light.
Hurrying out of the apartment, he was both happy and appalled to see his truck in her parking lot. Squashing the disgust at himself for driving last night, he climbed into the cab and sped over to the twenty-four hour market. The flower selection at three a.m was dismal, but he picked the best looking bouquet they had. From the office supplies aisle, he picked up a decent pen and a nice notepad.
The entire way back, thoughts of what might happen if she woke up when he came back in ran through his head.
Sneaking back into Claire’s apartment, he laid the flowers on the coffee table while he decided what to write. It took a couple tries, but he finally knew just what to say in the note. He wrote slowly, carefully, making the words neat and legible.
Tucking the flowers through the mask, he lay them over the note. Just enough to make sure that a breeze wouldn’t blow it away, but still allow it to be easily seen. He peeked back in at Claire. Her beautiful hair stretched across her pillow. He balled up his fists and resisted the urge to climb back in bed with her. Leaving her alone felt wrong.
But he’d have to make her fall for him, without her knowing she was falling for him.
The notes had to work.