He lounged against the trunk, head lolling against his chest. His copper hair curled loosely around his ears, and his white skin was brushed with soft brown freckles. He wore a charcoal button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled up quarter length to reveal muscular forearms, and black trousers that matched the suit jacket hanging on a jutted-out brick in the wall.
He was so still, it didn’t surprise me that I hadn’t seen him at first.
Hewasasleep, wasn’t he?
Quite sure that he was—I mean, he didn’tlookdead—I knelt beside him. His black leather penny loafers were polished and expensive looking, as was the gold-plated watch on his right wrist, and the college ring on his left hand. By the look of him, he was in his early thirties like me, butunlikeme, he looked so utterly misplaced here—like he’d been dropped out of his very comfy, luxurious life and onto this patch of clover without his consent.
I gently placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping that wouldwake him. His chest gently rose and fell, eyebrows bunching together, like he didn’t want to wake up.
Fine.A little rougher, then.
“Hey, friend,” I said, and shook his shoulder, “you need to wake up. The garden’s closing soon.”
He shifted ever so slightly, murmuring something under his breath, and then went still again. A copper curl came loose and slipped onto his forehead. I resisted the urge to push it off, and then immediately chastised myself for eventhinkingit.
“Wake up,” I said, louder, and shook his shoulder again. Probably harder than I needed to, annoyed with myself.
That did the trick, at least. His eyes fluttered open, blinking in the hazy orange evening light, and focused on my face. They were a stormy shade of blue, framed by long coppery eyelashes that matched his eyebrows and his hair.
“You,” he murmured sleepily, pushing himself up against the tree trunk with a deep inhale, as if to bolster himself. “Hello.”
“Hello,” I echoed. Did he know me? Because I didn’t know him. “I think you fell asleep for a little bit.”
His drowsy gaze studied my face, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion, and suddenly kneeling here in his private curtain of willow boughs felt much too intimate—something we both realized at the same time, because as I leaned away, he cleared his throat. “Just resting my eyes, actually.”
“Right,” I replied skeptically. If I hadn’t woken him up, he’d probably have slept until nightfall. Which reminded me—“The garden closes at sundown. So you should probably get going.”
His mouth twitched. “Ah. Right. Being kicked out already?”
I gave a start. “You can come back tomorrow morning—”
“I doubt the party will last that long.”
My mouth dropped open. “Party?” I echoed, confused, watching as he pushed himself to his feet.
He swayed a little, and I caught myself reaching out to help him, but he steadied himself on the trunk of the willow instead. “I’m fine,” he said too quickly, and I forced my hands down at my sides, and watched him pull his cell phone out of his back pocket. He cursed under his breath.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, annoyed, as he punched something into his phone. “I told you before, I don’t need a babysitter. I know these gardens better than you,” and then he brought his phone up to his ear as he turned away to ignore me.
And with his back to me, I got the very distinct impression that I was already forgotten when I wasn’t in his line of sight.
A sudden flash of anger burned in my belly. The next thing I knew, I was grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn around to face me. “Excuse me,” I bit out, glaring up at his surprised face. It would have been handsome if he weren’t so awful. “But you do need to leave. Now.”
His gaze settled on my hand on his arm. “Everyone hates me that much?”
“What? No, but—”
In the distance, there was a faint, high-pitched wail. As it got louder, it began to sound like . . .
My eyebrows furrowed. “Do you hear that?”
He wrenched his arm out of my grip. “No.” Then he muttered something to his phone and tried to make another call but apparently couldn’t. “What’swrongwith this thing?”
I didn’t care. I knew that sound now: sirens. “I—I have to go.”
He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, not even looking up.
