“Well, I’m happy to be meeting you now, Tahira. Lord knows I feel like I already know you, what with how much the kids talk about you.”
“June’s talkative.”
“Not just June—Rowan, too. He’s been telling me about your sculpture designs. He’s in complete awe of you. I should thank you for getting him excited about the Bloom again.”
“What? He was already excited about it.”
Dr.Johnston shook her head. “No. He was going through the motions of entering again, but he wasn’t excited like he was last year. He wanted to win, of course, but the passion for the process was missing. But now he’s got his spark back. I’m glad you’ve made his last summer before university so memorable!”
It was weird of his mother to tell me this. Even weirder to think Rowan once had a “spark” in the first place. Or that he told his mom that he liked my designs. I was flattered, of course. Mostly surprised, though. Then again, Rowan surprised me a lot as I was getting to know him better.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here this summer.” She patted my arm. “You’re good for both my kids. Let me know how the new pills work for you.”
The next afternoon at work, I was leaning on the counter, scrolling through the winners of last year’s Grand Floral Cup in New York. The entries were awesome. Seriously, mind-blowing art. Ihadto win the Bloom so I could go to this thing. “Do you think I could learn to weld in four weeks?” I asked Shar.
She chuckled. “Maybe. But is it necessary? Most of the Bloom entries last year used chicken wire for the frames.”
She was probably right. I sighed. Butweneeded to be more unique. Maybe I could learn basket weaving? Would straw and reeds be strong enough to hold plants?
The bell over the door rang, and a large purple plastic crate walked into the store. Presumably a person was connected to the crate, but I couldn’t see them. The beat-up Chucks on the feet gave it away, though. Rowan.
Shar rushed up to help him in. “Rowan! Wonderful. You’re here! Just set up to paint exactly where I showed you yesterday.”
“Oh, hi,” I said. I hadn’t realized he was painting the mural today.
When he put the crate down, I saw something that literally made me gasp. His shirt. It wasn’t brightly colored and had no plant meme in sight. In fact, today’s shirt was...hot. A perfectly faded, and lightly paint-splattered, slim charcoal Henley. Holy hell. If that’s what he was going to look like on campus in Toronto next year, he was going to have a devoted fan club before frosh week even ended. Again, I was positively itching to photograph this guy.
He barely looked at me and walked toward the back wall. “I’ll start moving things out of the way, okay, Shar?”
“Yes, absolutely. Tahira can help you move the fixtures. The store is slow; she can be your assistant today.”
I didn’t mind helping. I kind of wanted to see him up close in that shirt, anyway. I went over, and we moved the fixtures near the back wall to the front of the store so the clothes on them wouldn’t get paint on them.
He spread some drop cloths on the carpet and started taking painting supplies out of the plastic bin. He was being pretty quiet, and the silence felt awkward. “So,” I said, “the triangles...do you tape them off before you paint them?” It was a stupid question. I understood how painting worked.
“I used tape for the big one at the barn, but I had to wait for each color to dry before adding the next. Shar wants it done today, so I’m freehanding the lines for this.” He pulled out a printed photograph of the barn mural as reference and put it next to the containers of paint.
“Ah,” I said. “The design is so great. It’s perfect for the Lily collection. Like a modern juxtaposition against all the florals in the store.”
He suddenly turned to me, a handful of long, narrow brushes in his hand. “What are you talking about? Thisisa floral.”
“What? No.” I pointed to the photo. “You’re doing this one, right? It’s an abstract geometric design.”
“It’s abstract hydrangeas. It’s literally a painting of flowers.”
“No, it’s just...abstract.”
He laughed, eyes twinkling with humor. At my expense.
I cringed, looking back at the picture. “Did I seriously pick a floral design as the signature backdrop for my modern, not-supposed-to-be-flowery clothing line?”
He nodded.
I leaned against the wall. “You probably thought I was so uptight that day we first met at the barn.”
Using a ruler, he started drawing pencil lines that were apparently flower petals on the wall. “Youwerea bit precious.”
“Yeah, well, spilling manure all over myself kind of ruined my day. And my boots.”
