“’Kay. You just push the soil aside like this.” She reached into the planter and dug a small hole. “And then you’re going to want to tuck that little guy in there, and make sure the soil covers enough so that it’s secure.”
“Where did you learn all this, anyway?” I asked, genuinely impressed.
She shrugged like it was no big deal. “My stepdad is very into gardening. Occasionally, I paid attention.” She gave me a pat on the back and then got to work, grabbing more lettuce seedlings to plant.
Minutes later, she piped up. “Oh my god, Hayes!”
“Yes?” I said, confused at what could be so urgent.
“I forgot to tell you the best part.” She was peering around the side of the planter, and she looked like a kid at a birthday party about to devour a cupcake. “I got you a compost bin!”
Before I could respond, she added, “Two, actually. A gorgeous, sleek one for the kitchen—you’re going to love it—and then a worm-farm composter for out here.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this excited about worms before.” I put my hands on my hips and watched as she practically rocketed off the roof in delight.
“Well, you’ve clearly never hung out with anyone who loves worms as much as I do,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re the key to a successful garden.”
She smiled, a wide, blindingly white smile. Then her gaze fell, and she clucked disapprovingly. “Oh no,” she said, stepping toward me.
“What?” I asked.
Her expression was one of genuine concern. “I told you white was a bad idea.”
She leaned forward and studied a blotch of dirt on my shirt, right over my heart. She dabbed at it with her hand, swiping it off until all that was left was the shadow of a stain.
“There,” she said, looking back at me. “All better.” But she didn’t move away.
There it was again. And there was no mistaking it this time. There was an electric, energetic force field crackling between us. It suddenly felt like the thing so many random people on the internet had insisted was between us might actually be there. Was this flirting? Attraction? I couldn’t name it, but I could feel it.
The sound of my phone ringing cut through the moment, like someone shattering a glass in a restaurant. “Excuse me,” I said. I stepped back and tripped over two of the wooden planks we’d brought out for the garden beds. They went toppling, with loud bangs as they hit the ground. Franny just stood there staring at me as I wrestled my phone from my back pocket, both annoyed at the interruption and relieved that I had an excuse to turn away.
I pressed the button, and Serena’s face popped up on the screen. “Serena?” I asked, perplexed.
“Hey! I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by. Surprise you with dinner. Eleanor told me you were at your new office and gave me the address.”
Serena knew how important the opening was for me, and I wasn’t surprised she wanted to see the space for herself. It was nice of her to take the time to come here, but all I could think about was how disappointed I felt that my time alone with Franny was over. “One sec. I’ll come down and meet you at the front door.”
“Sorry.” I turned to Franny. “This woman I’m”—The woman I’m what? Hanging out with? Dating? Seeing?—“spending time with just decided to drop by.”
“Wow, so you are having an office date.” She gave me an exaggeratedly shocked smile.
“Oh, I…” I got stuck on my words. “This is…not that. I wouldn’t really do that.”
“Hayes, I’m teasing.” Her words were lighthearted, but her voice was oddly flat. The vibrating electricity that had been flowing between us was now zapped, completely gone. Maybe I’d imagined it altogether. “It’s time for me to leave, anyway,” she said, and turned toward the doorway that led back into the office.
Our elevator ride to the lobby together was silent.
When we got to the front door of the building, a new kind of force field entered. “Hey!” Serena was dressed for a run but was still impeccably put together, in a crop top and leggings. In her hand was a giant pink box. “Tacos,” she said, eyes sparkling. “From my friend who just opened a new spot downtown. Gluten-free, of course.”
“Serena, this is Franny. She’s in charge of—”
“Oh my god, you’re the dress girl! From the subway!” Serena shoved the box into my hands and leaned forward to clutch Franny in a hug. “You’re a legend.”