I pick up my fork, stab into my slice, and watch her over my plate. “You don’t likeit?” I ask casually.
Her smile falters. “Oh, it looks wonderful. I’m just…not really hungry for dessert.”
Not hungry. She says it so smoothly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
But I don’t buy it.
I’ve seen the way she sneaks bites of cookies when she thinks no one’s watching and the way her eyes light up when Sofia gets an ice cream. Shelikessweets.
So, why won’t she ever eat them here, at my table, when I’m watching?
I chew slowly, suspicion curling in my gut. Because something isn’t adding up.
The following afternoon, Avelina’s laughter fills the space as a butterfly lands on her outstretched finger. The sound has a warm sensation traveling across my whole body and back.
We’re in the vegetable garden, and she sits near an empty planter box, her sundress spread around her legs that are tucked beneath her. Her auburn hair is pulled up from her face into some clip at the back of her head.
My sleeves are rolled up, and I look away and focus back on the watering I’m doing until the small sound of seeds rattling in a packet catches my attention.
A sheepish smile fills her face when I look at her. A packet of flower seeds is in her hand.
“What are those?” I murmur.
“Daisy seeds,” she says slowly, that sheepish smile turning a little wider, a little bolder. It steals my breath right away.
“Daisies?”
“They’re my favorite flower. I ordered the seeds online, and they arrived this morning. I was going to plant them since you said you weren’t using this planter.”
My eyes move to the empty box. I did say that. And when I don’tanswer, she turns back to the box, poking her finger into the soil haphazardly. The tightness that appears in my chest is something I’m very familiar with.Panic.
She continues to move her finger here and there, and my throat runs dry.
My neat, orderly system. The precise, meticulous lines I’ve worked so hard to maintain every time I planted something new—ruined. I suck a sharp breath in and push it out, trying to keep my expression neutral. “What…” I clear my throat when I hear the clear alarm in it. “What are you doing?”
She grins at me. “Planting them.”
“You’re not planting themin straight lines?”
“No.”
It takes everything in me to keep my breathing even. Her simpleno, and I can feel a vise around my lungs that’s almost denying me of oxygen. “Why, er, not?” I stutter.
Her brow crinkles, but a smile graces her face. “Because flowers don’t grow in neat lines in the wild. So, they don’t need to here either.”
I blink. Once. Twice. Three times.
I want to march over there.
I want to fix what she’s ruined.
Ineedto fix it.
My autism makes me crave order and control in the chaotic world around me. But then she spears me with that sunny smile, and it’s like the world stops for a brief moment. It’s just me and her. The radiant feeling of her gaze on my face travels through my body, and the tension seems to evaporate for just a second.
“Is that okay?” Her voice is calm, sweet.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
