“You can’t give a boy flowers,” my co-worker says during our lunch break. We’re seated in the lunch room that everyone working in the mall eats at. None of us really like eating in the food court—we’re there so much, we need a small break from the insanity.  

“Why?” I frown chewing on the soggy piece of pizza that I bought.

“Because,” they began holding up an equally soggy fry, “flowers are for girls.”

“What?!” I laugh, “Who told you that?”

“My sister,” they shrug, “anyway she said flowers are for girls only. You can’t just give a dude some flowers and expect him to like it. No guy in the world has a vase to put flowers in, none of them would even know what to do with them!”

“I don’t know about you but most people I know look at flowers. What else would do with them?” I put my pizza down, my stomach not strong enough to deal with the grease pooling on the cheese.

My friend shrugs, “I dunno, but the point is: you can’t give flowers to boys.”

I purse my lips, “I’m going to try it.”

“No you’re not,” they shake their head, “who would you give them to? You don’t have a boyfriend.”

There was a boy on my mind. His name is Minho, and he works as a security guard at the mall. I see him everyday walking around, talking to store owners, helping old ladies carry their bags and searching for missing children. He’s truly a knight in shining armor. Sometimes he comes by the pizza shop I work at—the same pizza shop I bought my nasty slice from—and orders something. Luck is never on my side though, it’s always my co-worker who gets to talk to him.

“It’s Minho,” I say to them, “the security guard.”

“Choi Minho?” They shove the soggy fry into their mouth and chew obscenely, “You’re joking! He is the last man on the planet who’ll want flowers.”

“Why?”

“He probably eats and breathes sports. He’s not going to like flowers.”

I slam the palms of my hands onto the table loudly, “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll go buy flowers and give them to him right now.” I pause as I try to remember where Minho would be right now during his shift. I didn’t stalk him, I just… Knew where he was at every given moment. “He’ll be doing his rounds near the beauty parlors. He’ll probably stop and talk to Mrs. Lee and her son.”

“You’re obsessed, (Y/N).” My friend laughs, “He’s not going to like them.”

“Yes, he will.”

And so I went off to find myself a bouquet of flowers. I went to the florist in the mall, owned by an older woman. I asked her what flowers would be best for friendship, seeing as Minho would never date me in a million years, and she handed me a bundle of yellow roses. After leaving her shop, I quickly went on the internet to double check what they meant. I’d seen enough dramas to know older women liked to try and help young people fall in love—the first result on the search engine told me what she’d given me was true, and if she were lying, they’d be red.

Now, all I had to do was find Minho. I walked through the mall and headed towards Mrs. Lee’s hairdresser shop. She’s a kind woman. She’s styled my hair for as long as I’ve worked at the mall. Her son was cute too, his name was Taemin, but I have my eyes set on Minho.

“(Y/N)!” I hear my name being called from behind me. I turn around and see my friend trying to catch up with me. Their eyes fall onto the flowers in my hand, “So you haven’t made a fool of yourself yet. Good. I wanted to see you commit social suicide.”

“I am going to prove you right.” I say and they stick their tongue out at me.

“Well, here’s your chance. There he is. He’s talking to Taemin right now.” I follow their gaze and see him.

They’re right. Minho is standing near the entrance to the hairdressers, leaning against its door frame talking to Taemin. Minho is wearing his security uniform and God, I never realised I had a uniform kink until I saw him wearing that. He looks like a police officer, only cuter and a lot less intimidating.

“What are you waiting for?” My friend pushes me and I stumble over towards the pair.

I get close enough that I can hear them talking. Taemin notices me first, he’s holding a broom in his hands and he’s probably supposed to be cleaning the floors in his mother’s shop. “Hyung,” Taemin says and points towards me, “look. It’s pizza girl.”

Is… Is Pizza Girl me?

Minho turns towards me and oh my god, he’s smiling at me. The Minho, the God brought down from the heavens, walks over to me and says, “Can I help you with something?” I can’t get myself to say anything and so instead, I shove the flowers into his hands. He takes them gently and I see a blush rise on his cheeks, “T-They’re for me?” I squeak and nod. His cheeks grow even redder. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

I finally manage to speak, “Th-The yellow means friendship.”

“Friendship?” Minho repeats, his cheeks still adorably red, “What’s, uh, love?”

“L-Love?!” I say, the words are an octave higher than any human should be able to produce. He looks at me expectantly, “I-I mean, uh, red. Red is love.”

Minho bites his lip before saying, “I’ll get you red next time. When are you off work?”

I squeak again and then my friend grabs my arm, “She’s off at 4!” Before pulling me away. I look back once and see Minho sniffing the flowers, with the softest of smiles on his lips. “I can’t believe you were right,” my friend hisses in my ear.

I regained the use of my voice and said, “I told you. Boys love flowers.”