“ I brought you flowers.”

Of all the people I expected to see framed in my doorway, Roman Davis definitely was the last person I thought I’d see there. Least of all on Valentine’s Day.

“ What are you doing here? ”

He shifted on his feet. For a baseball jock, math enthusiast, and all-around fairly popular guy at our high school, he seemed very nervous.

“ It’s Valentine’s Day.” He said

“ So?” I replied.

He rubbed his neck and sighed, seeming to try to stand a little straighter. Although it didn't matter to me. I had always found his dark turquoise eyes his best feature. Although that wasn’t all he had going for him. He had dark brown hair, which often fell in waves around a square jaw that led up to those gorgeous blue-green eyes.

Not that I noticed.

Or cared.

He took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and seemingly all at once, blurted out a string of words:

“ WillyoubemyvalentineJeanette?”

I gaped at him. He, however, seemed to have relaxed after saying what he wanted to say, and now stared at me expectantly.

“ Did you—”

“ I heard what you said.” I said, still gaping at him, “ I just don't understand why you said it.” And I meant it. I was the bookish girl who always kept her head down and did her work. I was also pretty plain, with auburn brown wavy hair, pale skin, amber eyes, and a light smattering of freckles.

Now he was gaping at me, seemingly perplexed

“ What do you mean you don't understand?”

“ I mean..” I said, feeling suddenly flustered. Words, I mentally screamed Why are words so hard for you now?! You're usually good with words.

I took a deep breath and finally settled on something. “ Aren't you with Lina?”

He grinned at that, and my shoulders instantly relaxed, relieved I hadn't said something stupid.

“ I broke up with her three weeks ago. Didn't you know?”

No, I wanted to say, No, I didn't know that. But instead, I, like the fool I was, blurted out something else. “ Why me? Why now?”

I was even surprised that he was awake and dressed for school at this ungodly hour. I, however, was dressed for my morning run in black sweats, Adidas sneakers, and my favorite deep yellow hoodie.

He grinned again, that familiar devilish smile setting my heart racing, before his face settled back into a soft gentleness, as if he needed to assure me.

“ I want you to go out with me, Jeanette Thornfield, because you are lovely and smart and pretty dang sharp-witted. I really like you, and I’ve liked you for a while now, actually.”

I gasped like a fish, opening and shutting my mouth, unsure of what to say. He laughed when he saw my face, and then smiled broadly, and at that, I couldn’t help but blush. His gaze immediately quieted, and his face softened around the edges.

“You can decide whether or not you want to go out with me. But I, for one, am sincerely hoping you’ll say yes.”

Say something!, my brain shouted at me: Say anything. Say yes!

“Yes!” I stuttered, my mouth finally catching up with my brain. “Yes, Roman, I would love to go out with you!” I smiled, and he smiled back, his giddy grin stretching the broad planes of his face.

“Perfect! I’ll pick you up at six.”He winked, and then strode back to his car, a red Toyota, whistling as he walked. I looked until his car swerved out of view, and then ran up to my room, screaming into my pillow. I couldn’t believe it. I, Jeanette Elizabeth Thornfield, a silly sixteen-year-old sophomore, was going to go on a date with Roman Davis, the cool senior baseball jock and insanely smart math fanatic. It seemed almost too good to be true.

I stared out the window, a blithe smile on my lips. In the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow cross the lawn and head toward the neighbor’s house. Probably Mr. Eckman, I thought: Taking Billy out for a walk. Or maybe Mr. Jensen, chasing Billy away from his roses.

I smiled, not really caring who or what, still reveling in my happiness.

Only later did I find out I was mistaken.

I would like to say that I saw it coming. I didn't.

When Roman Davis came to pick me up for the Valentine party, my happiness had superseded all the wariness that I felt at his proposal.

Initially I had feared it was a prank or a bet or even worse - a pathetic attempt to make his ex jealous. The possibility of his proposal being prompted by either of those reasons instead of genuine admiration for me made me uneasy and a little sad but by the time he came to the door that evening, all my worries had retreated to the back of my mind.

I said goodbye to no one. Mum was at work, at one of her long shifts and dad was the same, except he was at another country. There was no one at home except my four siblings who were all too happy in their rooms with their headphones and video games.

Roman Davis smiled when he saw me come out in my baby blue silk dress, the one I bought for the winter dance last year.

When we got into his car, he turned to the back seat and brought out a bouquet of shining black roses, offering them to me. I did what I always did when I got flowers - put them underneath my nose and take a long breath in. They smelled amazing, but I couldn't help but notice the odd choice of color.

He was still watching me with the car turned off and he looked at me with pure delight radiating from his turquoise eyes. I found it difficult to believe that he had any ulterior motives especially then when he looked at me as if was the source of all his joy.

I thanked him for the flowers and he said "My pleasure, m'lady" with a posh accent that made us both laugh. Then he turned on the car and started driving far away.

It all happened very fast, really. So fast that I could not latch on to all that happened and store it in my memory. But the patches I remember are enough for me to tell the story.

We were driving up the highway when he suddenly turned off the radio playing a slow romantic ballad that I was humming to. Then he started talking really quickly. I could not understand his speech in sentences but I was able to pick up on phrases like "terminal cancer" "might be last good day" and "hospice care" and I thought he was just telling me a story he knew of maybe from a book or a movie. But then his voice kept catching and his hands began to shake on the steering wheel, and I realised that the story was something that had happened in real life, possibly to someone close to him.

"I'm so sorry," I broke into his flurry of words.

"Who is the person to you? Is it your grandparent or another relative?" I asked, trying to sound delicate and comforting. I did not know how to talk to people in grief.

He took his eyes from the highway to look directly at me. His turquoise eyes were veined with red from crying. I heard his next words perfectly clear: "The person is me. I am dying."

He was still looking at me when he swerved the car out of the highway. I screamed as we tumbled and tumbled, each hit bringing a new pain to my body. The car caught fire at some point, I think, but we were already dead by then.

Now we are in Hell. Together.