When John did something, he did not do it by halves. Isabelle was giving him a chance. He wasn't going to waste it.
He paid extra to get the roses rush delivered, talking her roommate into letting him in and then breezing by her to place vases of flowers on every available surface. He ignored the nosy neighbours who were only envious anyway. Who wouldn't be?
By the time Isabelle appeared, bewildered, in the doorway, John was prepared. He rose to his feet from his lean against her desk, and stepped forward with a single white rose in his hand, the only white rose in a sea of red.
"I wanted to make a statement. I was going to hire a string quartet too but I thought it might be a bit much." He smiled and offered her the rose. "Will you be my date?"