The One I Want

He stands, but his eyes remain on me. “Are bushes and shrubs the same thing? I’ve always wondered that.” He’s cute when he wonders too.

“To a layperson, yes.”

“What if you’re not a layperson?”

Botany was never sexier than when Andrew is talking about plants. My heart patters against my rib cage, and I rest back on my hand. “No. One’s denser than the other.”

“A bush has denser branches. Is that right?”

“Yes,” I reply, suddenly content spending all day hiding behind a shrub if I get to talk botany with him.

He takes a step back to give me space. Offering his hand, he asks, “Would you like help up?”

I’m already hating the distance, but I shake my head. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting charity.”

He scoops Rascal into his arms, making me jealous of the little guy, and then sits down where the sidewalk meets the dirt. “Then I guess I’ll have to join you. That is, if you don’t mind the company.”

“I don’t mind.” And that’s the truth.

As he scratches Rascal’s back, Andrew says, “As a New Yorker, why do you know so much about plants?”

I laugh. “What does me being a New Yorker have to do with my knowledge about plants?”

When he shrugs and lets his shoulders drop, I notice how relaxed he is. No coat hanger posture in sight. “I figured most people live in apartments without gardens.”

“Ah. Well, that is true, but once upon a time, I lived in the Berkshires.”

“I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.”

I love that New Yorkers walking by see us in the bushes but don’t say a thing. It’s like we’ve seen it all. A woman sitting in a bush? Okay. Just another day in this vibrant city. “So beautiful. It’s been years since I’ve been back.”

“What’s stopping you?”

I pluck a leaf from the plant and study the skeletal structure, running my finger along the spine and turning it over in my hand. “Myself.” I glance up at him. There’s a soulfulness that comes with this more laid-back side of him. I like it.

“I used to surf with my brother almost every morning before high school. We’d come rolling in just as the first bell would ring. Two kids from Beverly Hills—”

“You’re from Beverly Hills?”

I bet not much embarrasses him, but for some reason, this does. Dipping his head down, he runs his fingers through his hair. It’s dried messily, but not any less sexy. It might even be more so. God, I’m so shallow. And apparently sexually deprived.

He replies, “Yeah, don’t hold it against me.”

“Why would I do that? Is it an awful place to grow up? I thought it was always fancy when I saw it on TV.”

Chuckling, he pulls a weed and then looks up at me again. “No. It’s a fine place to grow up. I had a great childhood with few complaints.”

“What few do you have? Maybe you should get them off your chest.”

When he stands, I can tell the winds of his mood have shifted. “I think I’m good. You still want to stay down there?”

I hold my hand up. “I think I’m ready to stop hiding.”

His laughter is heartier than usual. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet. “Do you want to talk about what you’re hiding from, or should we keep things light?”

“Light. Definitely light.” I tap the side of his leg as we start walking. “Nice shorts, by the way.”

“Thanks.” His laughter carries us the next block until we reach the corner.

I say, “I promised Rascal doggie-safe ice cream.”

His arms cross over his chest as he looks at me. “Can’t disappoint the little guy.”

“No.”

“Hey, Juni, before you go, I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

Here it comes . . .

My face is already heating, just thinking about it.

I look down the street. I’m not sure what he’s about to say, but it sounds serious from his tone. I mentally brace myself.

“I think,” he starts, “I could use a friend. If the offer still stands.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifts to the side, looking down, and I recognize his awkwardness in the slight movements.

Forget the heat of my cheeks. It’s my smile that I have to worry about. I think it’s about to expand right off my face. “I’d like that.”

“You would?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

“I definitely would.”

Satisfaction fills his smile, and his eyes shine brighter. It might be the sun since he squints right after, but I’ll take it because it’s a good look on him. “Okay, we’ll be friends then.”

“Friends.” I stick out my hand again, but this time when he grasps mine, we shake on it.

Our gazes linger as long as our hands stay connected, which is at least long enough for me to wonder if maybe there’s something—No.

Friends.

That’s all.

11

Juni

Officially being friends with Andrew doesn’t solve my immediate issues. Mainly that I live in the same building, and he still doesn’t know. Oh, and he’s my boss.