Every so often, Landon came out from the back with his little pushcart of tins to restock the shelves. He smiled when he came by, and brushed my arm, or gave me a kiss on the cheek.
One time, he even smacked me on the butt.
“Hey!” I said, but he just smirked and kept walking, like he hadn’t done anything.
“Excuse me,” a customer said. They wore a pink sweater with black galaxy-print leggings, which I thought was a pretty cool look. “Do you have any more Bai Hao?”
Bai Hao was one of our best-selling oolongs. It was grown in Taiwan, and every year these little bugs came and chewed on theleaves, until the leaves activated a natural chemical defense that drove them away. That chemical changed the flavor of the tea, made it fruity and floral and awesome.
I glanced at the shelf, but Landon still hadn’t gotten to it yet.
“We have some in the back. I can go grab it.”
I waved down Alexis, who was running the tasting bar, and asked her to keep an eye on the register for me.
“Sure thing,” she said.
I found a couple boxes of Bai Hao tins in the stock room, along with Landon, who was leaning against the wall, looking at his phone.
“Hey,” he said. “Need something?”
“Some Bai Hao.” I reached up to grab them—they were on the top shelf, where Landon couldn’t reach without the step stool—and stacked a few extras on the pushcart to get stocked later.
“Cool.” Landon slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. He wrapped his fingers into my belt loops and pulled himself closer to me. I lifted the boxes of tea overhead so he wouldn’t bump into them. “You work too hard.”
“I was just helping someone.”
“You’re always helping someone.” He smiled. “That was the first thing I noticed about you.”
I met Landon my first day at Rose City—Mr. Edwards introduced us while he gave me a tour—but we got to know each other when we worked the Rose City Teas booth at Portland Pride, serving a bright pink iced hibiscus tisane.
Landon had been to Pride before—he came out as bi when he was in middle school—but it was my first time. I had only come out to my parents like two weeks before.
“Don’t be nervous,” Landon told me. “We don’t bite.”
“I’m not. I’m gay,” I said. “It’s just my first time is all.”
“Oh, really?” He smiled at me.
Landon Edwards had the kind of smile that could shake a comet from its orbit and send it plummeting toward the sun.
“Um. Yeah.”
“Cool. I’m bi.”
“Oh. Cool.”
We spent the whole day talking—interrupted by my running to get more bags of ice or jugs of water.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” he said. “Alexis and I can help too.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
Landon smiled at me again.
“Well, thanks. At least drink some tea and cool off.”
That was before my hair was cut, when I had a big halo of curly black hair, which did get pretty warm in the summer.
