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Out of the many things that Keith Kogane hated, waking up too early was probably one of the top ten. As his alarm clock shrieked at him from his bedside table, he tried to reason with the gods and pray for five more minutes of blissful, unconscious rest. His alarm clock couldn't care less, apparently, as it continued to pull his mind farther and farther from his evading dreams.

Giving in, Keith rolled over and slapped the alarm clock with a lazy hand, groaning loudly as he yawned. As he looked outside, he frowned at the barely-illuminated azure sky, wondering for the hundredth time why he did this to himself.

Money, Keith. You're a broke-ass college student, you need money.

Slinking into the small kitchen of his apartment, he groggily scooped Cafe Bustello into his Bialetti, setting it on the stove to brew as he got ready. Usually, Keith would've just worn a sweatshirt and cargo pants to work, but as the days drew closer to the end of June and the heat steadily climbed up the thermometer, Keith opted for ripped jeans and a t-shirt, which was decidedly cooler than hoodies, etc.

As the coffee began to percolate, the 20-year-old rummaged through his apartment's cabinets, looking for something he could throw together for breakfast. When he found nothing except a nearly-empty box of Mini-Wheats and a week-old muffin from Starbucks, Keith decided that it would probably just be better to grab something from Hugs 'n Mugs, his friend Hunk's cafe that was stationed ideally right across the street from Keith's own workplace- Allura's Arboretum & Floristry.

As he rode through the quiet streets of the city on his motorcycle, memories came flooding back to him of his very first summer on the Washington coast. He'd been so awkward and shy at his interview for the job at the shop, but Allura had seen some sort of spark in him, for which he was forever grateful as he didn't know where else he would have worked.

The arboretum's owner, Allura Altea, was a gorgeous, smart woman with a green thumb and knowing eyes that could pin you down with ease. Initially, he hadn't thought that the shop would suit him, but he actually liked it more than he let on. There was only ever one employee working at once, so there were never any noisy co-workers to annoy him, the shop always smelled good, and the tips didn't hurt either. It was the perfect little tourist shop and it had earned itself a permanent spot on the strip in front of the beach with its thriving summer business.

As the seasons changed from summer to autumn, business slowed and Keith went back to school, leaving Allura to tend to shop until Keith came to work in the afternoon or whenever he didn't have classes. His family wasn't poor, but they weren't rich either, so he was trying to pay off as much of his debt as he could while he was still in college.

Keith sighed, unlocking the floristry's doors and pushing away the thoughts of the future. That was a long way away- he wanted to enjoy this summer to the fullest and not worry about what would happen afterward.

He stopped inside Hugs 'n Mugs to grab his breakfast and his second cup of coffee but didn't linger as it was busier than usual. Hunk never failed to wish him a good morning over the bar, though, his grin almost as permanent as his cafe's booming popularity.

As Keith lifted his take-out cup to his nose, the strong scent of Hunk's famous Americano drove away the last remnants of memories and sleep that lingered on his mind and weighed down his limbs. He cherished the caffeine as if it were his life support (it really was- he became zombified if he went too long without it in the morning) and stowed the fresh muffin and apple he'd bought for breakfast in his bag.

The first thing Keith did when he opened up shop was set his iPod in the speaker and start up his playlist, dorkily bopping around the store as he set up shop (always with the blinds down, though- he'd be mortified if anyone saw his "dance" moves). As soon as the music was playing, he went through his mental checklist of preparing the shop for the day ahead.

Water all the plants.

Organize the orders for customers to pick up.

Cut new arrangements.

Set a roll of paper in the cash register.

Tidy and restock the shelves.

Air-guitar solo with the broom that's used to sweep away the sand that customers track in...

And at 8:00 am, flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

The shop was quaint and small, but it held a lot of stuff, from potted plants to bouquets to floral arrangements, to fake leis and baby toys and floral Hawaiian shirts. It was homey and bright and pretty and always made Keith feel calm. He'd always told Allura that she could excel in a career of interior design, but she just laughed it off, reminding him that her passions were strictly flowers and "the art of tattoistry" (her words, not his).

Keith tied on his required red apron and adjusted his glasses before settling down behind the counter and pulling out his laptop. He had just begun working on an essay that was due for his business class when the first customer stopped in.

At the sound of the bell at the door, Keith shut his laptop and looked up. The boy who walked in was college-age, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers as he walked into the shop.

"Hello," Keith greeted pleasantly in his customer-service-voice, "may I help you find something?"

The boy looked up at Keith, his blue eyes bright against the dark tan of his skin. He shook his head and his dark brown hair fell into his eyes.

Keith settled back against his chair and surreptitiously adjusted his beanie, taking off his glasses and setting them beside his laptop. His eyes caught his reflection in a small mirror on the counter that was propped beside the floral jewelry display and cringed when he realized how little effort he'd put into his appearance earlier that morning. Squinting, he realized that he had dirt smudged across his cheek. Hastily, he scrubbed it away with the back of his hand.

Keith looked at the customer furtively, quiet as the boy browsed the Hawaiian shirts and sunhats. The kid was definitely in college, though Keith couldn't guess which grade. Besides the joggers, he also wore a muscle tank and had a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head. His classic Adidas added an inch to his height, but he was already pretty tall (well, maybe not- Keith classified anyone who he was shorter than as tall).

The boy walked with a kind of cat-like elegance that Keith found interesting. He'd roll his ankles and flex his feet, walking as if he were dancing. He radiated relaxation and carefreeness, something Keith lacked. Keith realized that Allura walked the same way and then all sorts of ideas popped into his head, like if the student danced or if Allura knew him...

The blue-eyed beauty delicately dropped to a crouch in front of the bouquet rack and hesitated for a moment, eyes skating over the blooms, before selecting a wildflower and peony bundle. He brought it to the counter and handed it to Keith. "I'll take this one, please," he murmured as he pulled out his wallet to fish for bills.

Keith typed the price into the ancient cash register, which groaned as it spat out the cash box. "$9.99, please." Keith focused on the counter, unable to bring himself to meet those brilliant sapphire eyes.

The customer handed Keith a $20, ducking his head before saying, "Keep the change, cutie."

Keith froze, fingers wrapped around the $20. He blinked, surprised, finally making his eyes meet the boy's.

The brunette laughed, teeth flashing behind his lips. A light pink fanned out over his cheeks beneath his spray of freckles and he plucked a sprig of forget-me-nots from the bouquet, reaching over the counter to tuck it behind Keith's ear.

"I'm Lance, by the way."

Lance. Keith tried to speak, but his lips just trembled and gaped like a fish out of water. "Keith," he was finally able to blurt, then immediately blushed, embarrassed by his outburst. "I'm Keith," he amended.

Lance laughed again and Keith felt a warm, bubbly feeling in his chest. "See you around, Keith," he said, smiling as he grabbed the bouquet from the counter and walked out of the store, the bell on the door ringing happily as it shut behind him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Keith scolded himself and leaned down, banging his head against the counter lightly. He cursed under his breath and inhaled sharply, eyes opening. Despite his sudden inability to form words, he now realized one clear, absolute truth: he wanted to see Lance again.