Jesus, what an entitled prick.
"But my girl?She's fine, dude." He faked a punch at my arm. "She’spriceytoo. Got her a ring and everything."
A guy pushed through our chat to get to the john. I handed him a water bottle as he passed by.
“She was just surprised, that’s all. Should’ve made sure theromancewas front and center.”
And I had no idea what he was talking about.Is there an "eject" button on this conversation?The place smelled like puke, his attitude made me want to puke…"Congrats." I slapped him on the back and made for the rear of the residence, where no one should be wandering about.
I shoved the exit door aside and followed the short path to the greenhouse. The place itself, I'd built out of habit. Growing up, my family had always had a few vegetableplants. And the food in the student center had me fondly reminiscing over military rations.
At least there's fresh fruit. They haven't figured out how to ruin that…yet.
It’d been harder to keep the garden up between semesters and over the summer, but once I started growing things, Sato and Danny pitched in. And we branched out into a few flower varieties; roses were difficult, delicate, prickly. I hadn’t done well with orchids. I still had hope for my mini orange tree, though, and the magnolia.
Sato’s sober-curious girlfriend had taken to growing gardenias and jasmine—changing the smell of the place from earthy green to a flowery perfume.
I ducked inside the greenhouse and closed the door. A gasp rang out at the same time I flipped on the dangling lamplight.
She stood there, golden light glowing like embers in the strands of her coppery hair. Arms crossed over her stomach, tears staining her cheeks. A tightness gripped my shoulders as I raised my heavy Maglite and scanned the room.
But the place was empty. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Is anyone else in here?"
"You?" She shrugged and shook her head. "A few shadows that might be ghosts?"
The tightness relented. I set my flashlight on the worktable and met her gaze. "They don’t count."
She tipped her head. "Do you?"
"I’m not here to hurt you." I flipped on another light.
She winced and then brushed her fingers over her cheek. A flash of hazel-gold eyes. They glanced at me then flitted away. "Oh."
"You’re not supposed to be in here." I ducked my head, trying to catch her gaze again. "Off-limits for party guests."
"I’m not here for the party. Not really." She touched the rim of an empty flowerpot, craning her neck to her left, then turning her head.
Why's she here?"If you’re one of those California sober types, you won’t find any of that in here."
"Uh, no." She frowned. "So this is yours? This place?"
"It’s something of a group project. But, I built it."
She nodded. "It’s nice. I like it out here." She cocked her head to one side. "It’s almost like how I’d imagine outer space. Quiet. Still." She paused, and the room held its breath. "Like we could be close enough to see the lights and shadows of people living normal lives. But too far away for it to make any sense."
I held out one of my bottles of water. "Here, drink it. But, if you need to puke?—"
"I'm not drunk, but thank you." She sipped at the bottle while I drank her in. She had the well-formed shoulders of some of the enlisted women—after boot camp. I knew better than to let my gaze linger too long on her chest. The curve of her hip sloped beneath a short skirt into long legs that held nice muscle definition.
But no shoes.
"That's dangerous here. Lots of broken pots." I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. "You need to go."
She met my gaze, and my lungs froze in my chest.
