“Off,” said Onny. “Definitely off-the-record.”
A happy silence washed over them for a moment.
“Do you still garden?” asked Onny.
For some reason, the question broke whatever spell was momentarily between them.
“No,” said Byron roughly. “No space in the apartment for stuff like that. Plus, mom and I are far too busy these days.”
Onny noticed he never mentioned his dad. If his parents were divorced, Byron never seemed to visit him. She’d seen Byron in Moon Ridge for every holiday, either by himself or helping his mother.
“So… which of these leaves are thorny?”
“Um, those,” said Onny, pointing at the trellis of sarsaparilla. “And then I need to get the rare flower for the, um, kissing part.…”
Onny trailed off. For some reason, her brain wandered back to the sound of Byron’s voice in the dark.What about our kiss?A slight shiver ran up her spine. Why was it so dark in thegreenhouse? It felt too private… too quiet… and it made her all too aware of Byron walking a couple feet behind her.
“What kind of flower do we need?” he asked.
Onny didn’t turn, but she could hear the rustling of plants behind her, as if he were trailing his hand down their stems. Onny stopped short before the flower in question. Even in the dimness of the greenhouse, its rich crimson hue demanded notice. It looked like it had once belonged to the ruffled crinoline skirt of an Italian countess, and the red hue was nothing short of sinfully luxuriant. Onny breathed in its heady scent, like cloves rolled in sugar.
“It’s calledMatthiola incana,” said Onny.
She heard Byron’s tread as he stepped behind her. “You were wearing this in your hair the other day.”
Onny startled, before remembering that afternoon when he’d caught her spying on a couple in the band room.
You don’t normally wear flowers in your hair.
Since when had he noticed?
Onny heard Byron tapping away at his phone. “Never took you for a fan of hoary stock.”
“Excuse me?” She whirled around to find him less than a foot away from her.
Byron held up his phone, and Onny squinted against its fluorescent glare. “I thought it was kinda pretentious to call the flower by its Latin name, but now I see that it’s a far better alternative than what it’s usually called. ‘Hoary stock’ is possibly the worst name for a flower.”
“Trust me, there’s worse,” said Onny. She turned around,putting some distance between them before she started poking around through the potted plants looking for the pair of shears.
“Such as?”
“Vegetable sheep? Bastard cobas?”
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not!” said Onny, laughing. “My mom has ordered all of it. I made her order two seed packets for ‘monkey cups’ just for the name, but they haven’t gotten here yet.”
Byron turned on his phone flashlight, shining it along the tables.
“I still don’t quite understand the mechanics of this potion,” said Byron. “I drank it, so does this mean that after Alexander drinks it, he’s going to start pledging his undying affection for me?”
Onny scowled. Just when she thought they could have a normal conversation without him mocking her, she was proven instantly wrong. “You said you weren’t going to question the scientific method. That was our deal, remember? I don’t owe you any rationale.”
“Oh, I’ve given up hope of you spouting anything logical,” said Byron pleasantly. “I just think I’d be a much more useful assistant in your nefarious spellwork if I actually knew what it’s supposed to do.”
“One, it’s not nefarious,” said Onny. “And two, the love potion doesn’t work that way. All it does is awaken the potential of love. I’m an Aquarius and Alexander is a Sagittarius, so there’s all kinds of cosmic seedlings at work here, okay?”
That seemed to make Byron shut up for a moment. Onnyalmost breathed a sigh of relief when he cleared his throat once more.
