“I’m nervous,” I said. “Is this what waiting for the results for the actual Bloom is like?”
He seemed pretty relaxed lounging on his seat. I wondered if he was also having trouble not thinking about what happened last night. “I guess?” he said. “The judges deliberate for a while at the Bloom. Last year I left while Addison stayed and wandered the midway. She texted me the results.”
“Not into rides and totally fixed sideshow games?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling it. My dad and I had an argument that morning.”
“Oh, that sucks. About the Bloom?” I had seen Mr.Johnston around but hadn’t really met him yet. I knew that his displeasure with his son’s career choice was a big conflict between them.
Rowan was obviously trying to look like this conversation wasn’t a big deal, but his jaw tightened. “My dad really wants me to go into science like him. He’s got a doctorate in biology with a focus on botany, and until last summer I intended to study biology, too. But I’d been taking art all through high school. And then last summer, when I redesigned the garden at home, I did all this research and even met a garden designer through the nursery. When she told me about this landscape architecture program, I just knew.
“It’s the coolest thing—landscape architecture is like the perfect mixture of art and science. I didn’t know there was an entire field that designs outdoor spaces with the same precision and planning they do for buildings. They take into account sustainability and accessibility, and now even social equality. There’s a new movement toward creating more heterogeneous spaces—that means spaces are created from a decolonized framework to support all the diverse people using the space. I mean, they’ve always taken into account the diversity of plants and animals in landscape design; we should also be thinking about the diversity of different cultures and races, and how they want to utilize spaces, too. This is especially important in urban environments. Public spaces should be designed in a way to help foster community engagement. There’s this one park in Boston that just opened...it—” He paused, smiling shyly. “Sorry. I can go on about this forever.”
I shook my head, in awe. He was like Juniper going on about books—there was so much passion in his voice. It was exactly the same excitement I felt about designing fashion. About creating clothes for all the diverse people who would wear them. “Don’t apologize,” I said. “This is the best reason ever to apply for that program. You’ve told all this to your dad?”
He nodded. “I told him right before the Bloom last summer. I also applied for biology like he wanted, though. I didn’t expect to get into the architecture program. It’s competitive.”
“But you did.”
He nodded. “I got into both. I found out in May. I got a full scholarship for the biology program. Nothing at all for the architecture.”
I knew the guy was smart, but I hadn’t realized he was, like, full-ride smart. “So, your dad isn’t happy you chose landscape architecture.”
“I sent in the acceptance in early June, and we argued for about a month afterward. We’ve only now reached a kind of stalemate over the last few weeks.”
This was why Rowan had been so grumpy when we first met in late June.
“Considering your grandmother—his mother, right?—was a florist, wouldn’t he be happy that you want to design gardens for a living?”
“For my dad, it’s such a big deal that I got that scholarship. I was the first Black student to get a full scholarship in biology at that school, or something.”
“But he’s got to see your talent in landscaping, too,” I said.
Despite Rowan’s easy posture, I could see that this was hard for him to talk about. He shrugged. “Maybe winning the Bloom and going to New York will show him I can still be the top.”
I let out a long breath. I’d wanted to win the Bloom for my own career—for my own dreams—and this flower stuff wasn’t actually my dream at all. But itwasRowan’s. This was even more important to him.
“I wish you’d told me this before,” I said, looking into his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I would have worked even harder to win this thing foryou.”
He smiled. It lit up his face. Everything around us faded away: the street waking up, the people going into Hyacinth’s to get their morning coffee, the sound of birds in the air. It all disappeared.
Because Rowan Johnston was smiling only for me. And there was more there: anticipation. We both knew we were on the way to something here—and last night was the first step to getting there. And it didn’t feel like a disaster after all.
The door to the café opened.
“We got it!” Juniper came out, waving the iPad in the air. “Sorry it took us so long. That place is busy this morning! But we have a winner! The design we’re using for the Bloom!”
Gia was close behind, also grinning.
I sat up straight. “Whose is it?” It didn’t really matter that much, because with me and Rowan working together, it would be amazing nomatter what we did. But I was curious to find out if we’d be standing in an ice cream line for an hour, or if Rowan would be wearing the shirt I made with my own two hands while I finally got to photograph that face. Those forearms. Those beautiful hands.
Juniper flopped onto the seat next to me. “Well, Hyacinth said she loved them both. She’s not a Bloom judge this year, but she knows what they like. She thinks they both could win, but based on originality, she’d give a slight edge to Tahira.”
“Yay!” I said, grinning at Rowan. “See? A city girl can learn to play with flowers.”
