Valentine's Day: I awake, knowing only that this day will go down as some kind of bizarre. With the group, my teammates, I ride south on Chuckanut Drive from Bellingham. I was sick earlier in the week, only just getting over it. They're organizing race pacelines. I can't keep up. We hit the landing in Skagit County and I turned around, accompanied by a single rider for a few minutes. Exhaustion sets in. Riding, I thought, would keep me out of trouble that day. If I didn't have the energy, my heart couldn't race. This is fine. I hit the south side of town, only a few blocks from home. Instead of turning where I should, I continue onward, find a bank and pull a twenty out. A block over, I know, is a flower shop. Five dollars and some change later, I have it. The one, the rose that will seal my fate.
I arrive home, with an exceedingly voracious appetite. Feeling empty, I make something in the kitchen and wolf it down in front of my roommate's girlfriend. I had set the rose down on the table. My roommate joined us; they both eye it. I say, 'I'm either going to fuck things up today or not.' I shower. My heart defies me - it'll have me beating down death's door sooner than not, if it keeps up this pace. Carefully, I dress. She knows I am coming over to drop stuff off for the next night's dinner.
I knock on her door, holding the rose in the other. She answers, eventually. I step inside. She has turned her back on me, momentarily, I produce the rose. 'For you,' I might've said. Whatever I did say, my heart was THUMPING so loudly, I can't remember. Mentally, I'm gone. She thanks me, returns to her frenetic studying, editing, writing. I leave. Who knows if it went right. There was no 'wrong'.
Followup: The next day, we made dinner together and watched a movie. She brought up TV Tropes on her laptop and we scoured it, finding our favorite stories. She gave me a small box of chocolates, which remain untouched. There was a lot of laughing. And a long hug.