Lexa presses the soil down with her fingers, her nails ringed with dirt and the smell of hydrangeas making her breath feel lighter with every inhale. The whole greenhouse smells like wet earth, the greenest smell she knows, and the sun beating through the glass makes even the air seem green.
She was finally finished repotting the last of the flower basket display; all ready for the summer rush of ladies with lawns to beautify, their hats overlarge and their tennis shoes grimy with mulch. Lexa would never admit it to her boss, but there is a part of her that enjoys showing the garden club types around- picking out new trowels and flower print gloves, matching them with the right perennials and ringing up those godawful garden stones with the sayings like "fairy play zone" and "friends, like flowers, bloom with love."
She had grown up with a yard that was either perpetually overgrown or burnt into brown patches, collecting bouquets of dandelions in mason jars, but Lexa doesn't begrudge these ladies with too much time and money on their hands. She knows they have grandchildren who will enjoy and uproot the nonsensical moon gardens their grandmother's are planting.
Maybe if she had the space she'd plant her own obnoxious garden aesthetic, but Anya's baren second story apartment has a view over a stretch of cracked parking lot, not a garden plot. Instead, Lexa keeps herbs in the window; basil and thyme and rosemary, rubbing the leaves between her fingers when she's bored or studying, dried leaves always ending up in her backpack, making her smell like a walking spice rack. The comfort of the smell helps on the days when her half-sister is out of town for a week at a time on deliveries and there is nothing in the kitchen beyond what a broke college student can afford- which is to say nothing.
But it is summer now, and summer is always easier; Lexa can work full-time at Ground & Acres, bringing home the literal bacon she can finally afford, eating peanut butter out of the jar like a wild thing. Anya takes longer stretches of time off, dragging the rusted three legged grill to the parking lot and downing Natural Ice, because it may be shitty, but she "sure as hell isn't drinking it for the taste."
Lexa catches herself almost smiling and shakes her head, focusing on the flower basket below her. She snaps off a few browning leaves before she straightens up, wiping her hands on her jeans, working the dirt that's already streaking them in even further.
She hefts the basket- surprisingly heavy for dirt and flowers- and climbs the step ladder to hang it on one of the greenhouse's sprinkler poles. Ground & Acres is quiet today and Luna is taking her grandson to lunch, so Lexa is alone. Between the green and the solitude and the earthy smell Lexa can't help her good mood and she whistles through her teeth, the way her Uncle Gustus had taught her before he was a folded flag on Anya's shelf. Lexa was just stretching to hook the flower basket in place when she hears someone clearing their throat below her. The whistle dies on her lips and Lexa turns so fast she loses her balance, the ladder shuddering beneath her. She throws her arm out to the sprinkler pole and holds on for dear life at the same time the girl who interrupted her grabs the ladder, steadying it beneath Lexa's feet.
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" she says, blue eyes apologetic, "I didn't mean to startle you."
Lexa wavers, her balance still off, and not because of the ladder.
"You didn't startle me," Lexa says slowly, making her expression as indifferent as she can, "this is just a terrible ladder."
"Oh," the girls says as her eyes narrow, and gives the ladder a little experimental shake.
The ladder barely moves, brand-new and traitorous, but Lexa increases her death-grip on the sprinkler pole anyway, hydrangea basket still held tight in her other hand.
"Yeah," the girl says, and her eyes look like she wants to smile, "it's pretty bad."
"Yes," Lexa says seriously and turns to hang the hydrangeas, her breath coming shorter, like she's been running.
"Nice tunes," the girl says when Lexa finishes and turns to her again. Lexa frowns in confusion and the girl purses her lips and whistles. It is an objectively terrible whistle, breathy and sharp, and people look ridiculous whistling but this girl somehow doesn' if she's making fun of her Lexa wishes she would do it again.
"Oh," Lexa says instead.
She starts to climb down and the girl shoots out a hand to steady her and out of instinct Lexa takes it and they both freeze and look sort of startled. It's such a bizarre gesture- like a gentleman in a period film helping a lady off a horse- and Lexa jumps the rest of the way off the ladder just to escape how awkward it makes her feel.
She hits the ground and rubs her hands on her jeans.
"You don't look like a gardener," the girl says in a moment.
Lexa frowns, looking down at herself; work boots, dark jeans, black tank, various levels of potting soil worked into everything. She shrugs.
"I'm not really a gardener," Lexa says, and she sounds pedantic even to herself, "I just take care of the plants."
The girl's eyes twinkle and the corner of her mouth just barely tilts up.
"Okay," she says, "Not a gardener."
Lexa can't tell if the other girl looks like a gardener either. Definitely not in the shoes she's wearing- patterned summer flats. Bare legs and blue shorts that demand the sun come out just to give their shortness some legitimacy, and a gray top that shimmers just a bit in the light. She's also wearing one of those filmy infinity scarves with blue birds on it, and while Lexa has never understood the point of them, seeing how the blue brings out the girl's eyes has her deciding to make an exception for it. Her hair is pulled back in a bun, blonde strands with just the hint of a curl to them escaping around her face in a way that looks intentionally careless.
When Lexa gets to her face the girl raises her eyebrows, and Lexa realizes that her visual cataloguing had her running her eyes all the way up the girl in an appraising way. Lexa isn't the type to blush, but her fists do tighten together.
"So you take care of the plants," the girl says, and her voice has that hint of laughter that hasn't left it this entire conversation, "Can you also sell me some?"
Lexa nods. The hydrangea she just watered and hung drips on her and she jerks, wiping the wet soil off her bare shoulder, smearing it in instead.
The girl smiles huge, and Lexa thinks jealously about how the pillbugs she finds on the plants can curl in on themselves.
"Hold on," the girl says and takes a step towards her. Lexa has to fight the urge not to step back as she approaches, reaching out a hand and pulling something out of Lexa's curls.
When she pulls away there is a petal in her hands, the same bright pink of the hydrangeas Lexa hung, and Lexa decides that hydrangeas are overrated and should be phased out of stock.
"So," Lexa says, stopping herself from running a hand through her hair to check for more stray petals, "what are you looking for?"
The girl pulls a face and Lexa wants to smile but doesn't, "Something I can't kill?"
Lexa nods, heading down the row. The girl hesitates for a moment and then falls into step just behind her.
"Indoor or outdoor?" Lexa asks.
"Indoor," the girl responds.
Lexa nods, coming to an abrupt halt and the girl stumbles into her, all softness against Lexa's edges. Lexa has always been sharp lines and wiry limbs- "Hey bird-bones," Anya had used to call her, "don't bust anything falling out of that tree or you can go to the emergency room yourself," but the girl is curves instead of angles, and Lexa suddenly thinks she may have been lonely for a long time.
Lexa swallows and steps carefully away, gesturing to the pots in front of her.
"Snake plant," she says, pointing to the plant in front of her, green and yellow leaves standing straight up, "It thrives in all light conditions, and only minimal watering is necessary."
"Only minimal watering is necessary," the girl echoes with a smile and Lexa knows she is teasing.
The girl appraises the plant a moment and then shakes her head, "Nah."
"Okay," Lexa says and leads them towards the next row. "Chinese evergreen. Low light, moderate watering," Lexa pauses, licks her lips, "It can live for ten years."
The girl laughs, running a finger across the leaves, "That's a big commitment for something that won't even talk back to me- I think I'll pass."
Lexa frowns and leads them on.
The girl has a colorful excuse for each plant Lexa shows her. The peace lily reminds her of a doctor's office. The philodendron looks like something from her grandparent's house. When she dismisses succulents as "for hipster weddings," Lexa nearly screams.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I know I'm wasting your time," the girl finally says with a look of contrition that makes Lexa instantly forgive her, "Tell you what- you can pick. Whatever you tell me to get, I'll get. Just not, like, a tree." She frowns, "Or daisies. Daisies are for children and Meg Ryan."
"Are you sure?" Lexa asks, and suddenly she feels under pressure. It's unfair, Lexa thinks- you should only have to worry about picking the right flowers for girls you're dating.
"I'm sure," she says and meets Lexa's eyes, grinning, "You seem like you have good taste."
Lexa's eyes widen a little and she looks away, clenching her fists again.
"Spiderwort," Lexa blurts, tripping out of her tongue-tie.
"I'm sorry?"
"The flower I would pick for you," Lexa says, meeting her eyes again earnestly, "spiderwort."
The girl makes a face and Lexa holds up a hand, nodding at the other girl's uncertainty.
"I know it is not a pleasant name. You could call it tradescantia, but that's-" the girl cocks her head, almost smiling again, and Lexa's words stop short, "Not important."
Lexa sighs, and straightens her shoulders, "Let me show you."
Lexa leads her down another aisle, to a group of pots with sharply green leaves arching over each other, delicate three petalled flowers in every shade of purple and blue showing through.
She searches among the pots until she finds the exact shade she's looking for. Lexa holds it up, looking between the girl and the plant a moment before she's satisfied, handing her a plant with flowers the same summer blue as her eyes.
The girl takes the plant carefully.
"It's beautiful," she says.
Lexa nods, "They are my favorite."
The girl smiles and for the first time it looks almost shy, "I figured your favorite would be more like a cactus."
"No," Lexa says, "Spiderwort."
"Terrible name," the girl says.
"Yes," Lexa replies, "Awful."
Lexa's mouth feels dry and she licks her lips. She can tell that this is a moment, a link between herself and this girl holding a planter of her favorite flowers, but she can't seem to pin it down with words. The possibilities of it make her feel dizzy and everything smells so green and this girl's eyes are so blue and she should just ask her name, but-
"I can ring you up at the front," Lexa says.
The girl's face falls just a bit before she covers for it, her smile a bit too forced and Lexa's heart falls.
She leads the way to the check-out counter, a heavy wooden L that Luna had carefully stencilled with winding vines and flowers, happy watering cans at uneven intervals. The girl follows behind her and Lexa feels more disappointed at herself with every step.
Lexa heads behind the counter and the girl places the planter on it with a soft thump. Lexa pulls out a receipt pad- Luna would never spring for a cash register- when the soft ding of the bell over the door brings Lexa's attention up for a moment.
He's on the far side of the greenhouse, head down and on his phone, but one look at him and the girl is scrambling on top of Lexa's counter. She vaults it- actually leaps completely over the countertop- and Lexa can't decide if this girl is on a track team or if adrenaline has just made her an Olympian.
"What are you-" Lexa begins, but the girl is already crouching down, shoving herself into the space between the counter wall and Lexa's legs.
"Just be cool," she says with ferocity, and Lexa almost laughs.
"Okay," Lexa says. Before she can decide whether to press for more details, the boy is heading towards her, slipping his phone back into his pocket with a smile and a shake of his head.
He has a lot of hair. Lexa would call it brown, but she's certain his conditioner has a more elegant name for it, because it's well-kept enough to be in a commercial. He runs his hand through it and smiles and Lexa thinks that probably works pretty well for him.
"Hi there," he says, "I'm Finn."
It's never a good sign when a customer introduces themselves; it usually means they'd like to build a half hour work 'relationship' with Lexa while she totes fertilizer bags to their truck and answers a dozen inane questions about non-invasive pesticides.
"Hello," Lexa replies finally. Finn seems unperturbed.
"I'm looking for something special today," he says, and Lexa stifles her sigh.
"Okay," she replies.
Finn's eyes narrow with a conspiratorial look, "I may have screwed things up with my girlfriend."
The moment he finishes speaking, the girl hiding beneath her counter grabs Lexa's ankle in a vice-like grip, and Lexa knocks over the pencil holder she keeps on the desk for filling out inventory orders. Pens and pencils and at least one ruler scatter everywhere and Lexa murmurs a quiet 'sorry' before ducking down to collect the ones rolling across the floor.
As she bends down the girl catches her eyes. The exaggerated way she mouths the word could make it anything, but the embarrassed horror in her eyes says "Ex" clearly enough.
Lexa widens her eyes and shrugs, the universal 'what am I going to do' gesture. The girl's face falls.
"Please," she whispers.
Lexa sighs, and nods, and stands. The girl doesn't let go of her ankle.
"Sorry," she says again, tossing pens back onto the counter.
"No problem," Finn replies, still looking mostly unfazed.
Lexa suffers in silence a moment.
"Something special," she finally reminds him.
"Yeah," Finn says, "No red roses or baby's breath."
She feels a tap on her shin and Lexa glances down. The girl has grabbed one of the fallen pens and scrawled something on her palm.
'HE CHEATED' it says. Lexa's eyes snap back up to Finn. She grits her teeth.
"Does she have a preference between flowering or nonflowering plants?"
Finn thinks a moment, "Flowering, probably."
He twists the pot on the counter between his hands.
"What kind of plant is this?" he asks, and the girl grabs her other ankle, squeezing so hard Lexa thinks she might leave a bruise.
"Spiderwort."
Finn makes a face, "That's an ugly name."
"I know," Lexa snaps.
"Do you have a recommendation?" Finn asks and he sounds like he's trying to make peace.
Lexa narrows her eyes, "Daisies."
"You think so?"
"Yes," she says, voice low, "Everyone loves daisies."
Finn smiles and shrugs.
He finds a pot he likes easily enough, and Lexa tries to check him out quickly, charging him azalea prices for being an asshole.
"What's her name?" Lexa asks as she hands Finn his change, ignoring the way the girl under the counter is digging her nails into Lexa's ankles, "The girl you may have screwed things up with?"
Finn smiles and takes the money.
"Clarke," he says.
"Clarke," Lexa echoes, "That's a good name."
Finn laughs and nods and walks away, a pot of daisies under his arm.
The bell above the door tinkles and Lexa waits another ten seconds before she looks down.
"All clear," she says.
Lexa reaches a hand down to help her up and Clarke takes it. This time Lexa doesn't let her go.
Clarke is pink with embarrassment and she rubs her temple nervously.
"God, I am so sorry. I know that was exceptionally weird."
Lexa nods.
"Yes," she replies, "But I find you much more approachable."
Clarke laughs, and Lexa knows it's the best sound she will hear all summer.
"I'm Lexa," she says.
"Lexa," Clarke repeats, "That's a good name."