From the kitchen table, Ally stared out at the garden. She picked up her glass of orange juice and chugged it. With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth, not once taking her eyes off the patio outside the glass doors. Austin smirked down at his wife and handed her a napkin.

"You look like a crazy person."

Ally blinked. She couldn't stop the smile from spreading on her lips as she looked up at him, but she could narrow her eyes.

"Shut up."

Austin chuckled and sat in the chair beside her. "What's going on, Ally-cat?"

She sighed and pushed herself away from the table. "I was really excited about training and now it's been an awful week because the trainer's nowhere to be found and I want to learn how to do spin kicks." She tipped her glass, speckled with pulp, at him. "A real spin kick, not that made-up stuff you do with Dez out in the front yard."

"Jealous."

Ally went over to the sink, turned on the faucet, then spoke up over the gush of warm water, "I'm serious, Austin. When will he be here?"

He turned in his seat to look at her. "Are you going to keep wearing those yoga pants until he shows up? Because personally, it's been a good week for me."

He ducked to avoid the dishtowel that came flying at his head.

"Uh oh, you don't know that spin kick yet," he said, pushing his chair back.

"Stay back, Moon," Ally said. She held up a wooden spoon and pot lid from the counter like a sword and shield.

"Can't do that."

Austin charged forward. Ally tossed the spoon and lid to the side and opened her arms wide. Their laughs, mingled together in one joyful sound, softened the clanging of the kitchenware on the floor. She lifted her feet from the ground as he spun her around their kitchen.

"Yay!"

"Yuck!"

Austin stopped spinning and Ally slid her feet back to the tile. Strands of her hair moved as Austin puffed, catching his breath. The couple smiled at their guests in the doorway.

"What're you two doing?" Trish and Dez asked. Dez with stars in his eyes. Trish with her nose wrinkled.

"Being in love," Ally giggled, wrapping her arms around Austin's waist and squeezing him tight.

"I know," Trish and Dez said, again at the same time, but Dez with his hands over his heart and Trish rolling her eyes.

"Is that going to be your thing now, the talking at the same time," Austin teased. He swayed side to side with Ally in his arms. She swayed in sync.

"No," Trish said. She reached up and slapped her hand over Dez's mouth before he could speak.

"Dez shook his head!" Ally said. "That still counts!"

"Whatever," Trish said. She lifted her hand from Dez's mouth and wiped her palm on the front of his shirt. "Come on, Dez. Some of us have work to do," she said, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Austin and Ally.

Trish swiped a fruit from the bowl on the counter and walked out.

"Indubitably," Dez said, swiping his own fruit and following Trish out the kitchen.

"What are the chances that he actually knows what that word means?" Ally joked.

Austin hunched his shoulders and let out a weak chuckle. "Pssh, who wouldn't kn…"

"You have no idea."

"Nope."

Ally squeezed him tighter and planted her nose into his chest. "It's okay," she said into the fabric of his shirt. "You smell smart."

Austin placed his chin atop of Ally's head, letting the strands of her hair tickle his face. "I used your soap."

"I know," she said, grinning against him and anticipating the tickling to come.

The fan blew on full blast in the greenhouse, combating the heat of the sun as it shone in through the glass. In the distance, dogs barked playfully and birds sang cheerfully, drifting in the opened door along with the scent of garden flowers.

"Isn't it nice," Dez asked aloud. He had his head tilted as he stood over a thin, tall vase. The glass was stretched so then the purple color was faint. He added a long-stemmed flower.

Trish paused, hovering her fingers over the keyboard, and looked over her shoulder to Dez. Her eyes lowered to the yellow and white flowers in the vase.

"Yeah, sure. Remember, we need all twelve of those to be identical. I even want the number of petals to be the exact same," she said before turning back to her work.

Dez cut a few inches of white ribbon from his workstation then returned to the vase.

"No, silly. Love."

"Love?" Trish asked, bunching her eyebrows but continuing to type an email to a potential client.

"Yes, silly, love." He lifted the vase in the air and inspected it in the sunlight. Pleased, he nodded and placed it on one of the back-shelves. "What Austin and Ally find themselves in."

"I think it's a little more than 'find.' They're married at like eighteen. Nineteen? How old are they, again?" She stopped typing for a moment. "How old am I? It feels like we've been here forever." She ran her fingers threw her hair. "Like I'll never shampoo with the good stuff ever again." She blew out a breath. "Thanks, Dez. Now I'm depressed, again."

"How can you be depressed about love." He plucked a yellow flower from the pile and began to count the petals.

"For starters, I'm talking about it with you." Before he could pout, she raised both hands in the air and said, "I'm joking, joking. We're friends now, so don't get all pouty and upset."

He lifted the flower and muttered into it, "I don't get pouty or upset."

Trish clicked print for a hardcopy of the email and leaned back in the rocking chair to look at Dez.

"Ay, this is going to be a difficult friendship. Too sensitive to tease like a jock, and too innocent to joke like a musician. You're kind of the worst guy, Dez."

Dez's jaw dropped and he crossed his arms. "Well, now I'm upset, and a little pouty."

Trish chuckled as she turned back to her desk. "I'm still joking with you, Dez."

"Oh."

The two returned to their work. The only sounds came from life in the distance, the snip of scissors, and the hum of the printer. Dez finished the twelfth vase of the set and placed it beside its identical sisters. He beamed at his work then turned to look back at Trish. Whistling a tune, he picked up his wooden stool and placed it beside Trish's chair. She shifted in her seat when he sat down, but didn't acknowledge him any further as she continued to work.

Dez spoke, "I think it's special, you know, to be in love. Austin and Ally look so happy together. And when they look at each other, wow."

He paused for Trish to give her input but she just kept typing.

"I've seen my dad look at my mom like that before. Like they have this big secret that only the two of them in the whole universe are in on. Ah, love… Love, love, love, love, love."

"Enough!" Trish shouted, slamming her hands on her desk. She exhaled and pressed her back against her seat, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she asked, "What is it, Dez?"

Undeterred by her outburst, he pressed his knees together and leaned closer to her with a big smile on his face. "So, I was thinking, I've never really been in love or in a relationship or in too many friendships, really. But you have. And we're friends now, so," he propped his elbows on his knees and held his chin with his palms. "What's it like?"

"You're kidding me."

"Nuh uh. Tell me."

Trish stared at him, mouth slightly opened. She cleared her throat and said, "Remember when I said I was joking about you being difficult?"

"Yeah," he said, still smiling.

"I take it back. You're the worst."

He sagged his shoulders but stayed seated beside her, hoping to wait her out. His smile had deflated but his spirt lifted when he chanced a glance in her direction and saw her roll her eyes. She let out a small groan and he knew he had her.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But I thought you said those relationships weren't legit. Remember, on the plane when you were being a huge jerk to me." She loaded the business's website and enlarged a photo of the most viewed flower arrangement. "Grab some ribbon; you can still be working."

He stood and went to gather some ribbon. "They're not legit. But it's closer than I've got. And I want to know stuff."

"Um, they were plenty legit, thank you," Trish said, grabbing a notebook.

Dez sat back down and added a pile of ribbon to Trish's desk. "Did you love them?"

"They loved me." She tapped a pen against the notebook. "What's not to love?" She shot him a glare and swiftly pressed the end of the pen to his nose. "Choose your next words carefully."

He gulped and squeaked out, "Obviously."

She pulled the pen away and he visibly relaxed. He picked up three pieces of different colored ribbon and began to braid them together.

"Okay, let's start with Jace," Dez said. "How did you know he was the one?"

She pressed the ink tip of the pen to a page and watched as a purple dot expanded on the paper. "Uh, let me think. Oh! Jace and Marco were both semi-finalists in that skateboarding competition Red Bull did at the park, but Jace won."

Dez waited for Trish to say more but she just doodled on her paper.

"Wait, is that it? That's how you knew he was special."

"Well, yeah," she said, looking up from her paper and shrugging.

"But what if Marco had won?"

"Then, obviously, Marco would've been special and I would've dated him," she said plainly. At his look, she added, "What?"

He sighed and rubbed his thumb over the braided ribbon. "I'm not going to learn anything."

"Get off your high horse, Dez. Life doesn't have to be some stupid fairytale. We're in high school. No one's looking for everlasting love. Just pick someone worth dating. Someone you can impress your friends with or get more followers for. Scratch their back and they'll scratch yours."

"So, love makes you itchy?"

"Yes." She tore the page of doodles out of the notebook and crumpled it in her hand.

Dez attached the ends of the braided ribbon together with a knot. He put his hand through the loop and let it rest on his wrist as a bracelet. "That's what I'll look for, everlasting love. Just like the Moons and my parents."

"Please stop talking."

Trish tossed the ball of paper into the wastebasket and sighed. She reached up to rest her hand on Dez's shoulder and said as gently as she could manage, "In our normal lives, at our lame school, everlasting love is probably a waste of time. As your friend, I can tell you Miami's full of shallow people. Just find someone to make-out with and take to prom and be content with that."

"Now I'm depressed," Dez pouted, shrugging off the bracelet.

She patted his shoulder and stood. "You started it."

Her sneakers thumped against the dirt floor as she made her way to the door. She walked out but returned a second later to lean into the greenhouse. "Remember, don't crush on me, Dez."

He whipped around on his wooden stool to stare at her with wide eyes but relaxed his shoulders when he saw her smirk.

"Who knew you joked so much," he said with a grin.

"Duh, I didn't change that much," Trish replied. She knocked on the glass and said, "Finish the ribbons for the next order. I'll get us some lemonade."

He nodded as she pushed away from the doorway.

Dez tossed up a baseball. He watched it drop back to his hand then he launched it up again. The ball was dingy and worn with dried flecks of mud stuck in its stitching. He had found it in the barn when he was searching for treasure with Austin. At least Austin had called it 'searching for treasure.' Dez was fully aware that they were just clearing out old junk.

"…I didn't change that much."

The words faded in and out of his thoughts like the rise and fall of the baseball. His back sunk comfortably into his mattress. Orange light from the fading sun flooded the room. He could smell the grass and dirt on the bottom of his sneakers tossed in the corner.

"…I didn't change that much."

He twisted his lips but kept his eyes on the rising and falling ball.

Trish and I used to be friends. We grew up together. Is it weird that I forgot that? How did I forget that when I use to think about it all the time? Trish and I used to be friends but she won't give me a ride to school when my bike is stuck in the lake. Trish and I used to be friends but she won't speak to me in the hallway. Trish and I used to be friends but she won't play videogames at my house anymore.

Fifth grade set the standard, was the change. Suddenly, Trish wasn't walking across his yard anymore to knock on his door and ask him to come out and play. And shortly after that, she refused to sit beside him in the carpool or come to his birthday party, which Mrs. De la Rosa still made her do until he was too old for clown cakes and dinosaur streamers.

But being friends with Trish at eight years old is sort of different than being friends with Trish at eighteen years old.

He sat up in the bed and pressed his back against the headboard.

I'm out of my league. Trish is used to hanging out with A-listers, phonies. Guys that play sports and are good at them and have tattoos. Fashionistas. People that go to parties with DJs. What if she changes her mind about being friends?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He called for the person to come in.

"I made chocolate chip cookies," Ally smiled, pressing open his door with the tip of her slipper. "Want some company?" She asked, walking into the room before being given an answer and sitting on the opposite end of the bed. She settled the plate of warm cookies between them.

Dez grabbed two, one in each hand. He took a bite out of both and said, "Thanks," crumbs falling from his mouth. He swallowed and said, "Can I ask you a question?"

She leaned forward a bit and whispered, "You want to know what indubitably means?"

"I know what it means," he huffed.

Ally shook her head.

"No, I don't," he sighed.

"I know."

He stacked his cookies together and said, "Can I ask you my real question now?"

"Go ahead," she said.

"Do you ever think Austin's too cool to be your friend?"

Ally swallowed a chocolate chunk. She shrugged and said, "He's my husband. It's too late now."

"But, he's like so much cooler than you. I've seen him in your instrument room. He can play guitar, and sing; I think I've even seen him dance in the sunroom when he thinks no one is around," Dez said, taking bites of cookie every few words.

"Yes, he has a lot of talent," Ally said, crossing her legs beneath her. "That doesn't necessarily make him cooler than me."

"And he's super funny. And likable, like a puppy. I bet he had a lot of friends in school," Dez continued.

"He's personable. I'm personable, too, just like in a different way. Sure he won homecoming king one year, and queen one year too, but I think that was a clerical error."

"Probably not." Dez stacked three cookies together like a sandwich and held it firmly with both hands. "And he's hotter than you. Buff, blonde, brown eyes."

"Give me that." Ally rocked forward and snatched the cookie sandwich from Dez's hands.

"I think on the coolness scale, Trish and Austin are like tens and we're," Dez started.

"Nines?" Ally asked, raising her brows hopefully.

"Twos."

Ally chomped down on the cookie sandwich. "I'm not bringing you cookies anymore."

Austin and Trish sat in the den as zombies lumbered across the muted television.

"Got any sevens?" Austin asked from his position on the rug. He relaxed on his side with his elbow propping him up and his playing cards fanned in front of his face.

Trish folded her knees under her on the couch. "Go fish."

"Aw man."

"Sup, my fellow cool kids," a voice said from the other side of the room.

They looked to the staircase and saw Ally.

Trish could feel the snide comments tickling at the back of her throat but she swallowed them down and dropped her eyes to her lap. "One diamond, two diamond, three diamond…"

Austin couldn't take his eyes off Ally as he crawled over to the couch. He eased himself onto the cushions and whispered to Trish, "What are you doing?"

"Counting to ten before I speak," she whispered back. "What are you doing?"

"Replaying everything I said today to see if this is my fault," he whispered.

Ally strummed the guitar around her neck, silencing the discussion.

"Who's ready to get down," she shouted to her audience, fist raised high in the air.

"I'm not," Trish muttered, earning an elbow-nudge from Austin.

Ally strutted across the room in a pair of dangerously high heels that Trish had never seen her wear. She wobbled in front of the pair and strummed the guitar again, dramatically swinging her naked arm.

"Babe," Austin started but was cut off by the guitar.

Ally played the instrument, rocking forward and back on her fashion stilts, and flinging her long braid from one shoulder to the other.

"Whoa there!"

Austin jumped up and steadied his wife before she got whiplash or tipped over.

"Yo, I'm not done rockin'," she said, looking up at him.

"Was that 'Be Our Guest'?" Trish asked from her spot on the couch.

"Ally? Help me out here." Austin took the hot pink sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and put them on himself. "Why are you wearing my man tank?" He gestured to the neon green, sleeveless shirt on is wife.

Ally flexed her bare arms. "To show off my guns…cause I'm buff."

"Is that why you've got these rubber bands on your upper arms?" Austin chuckled.

"I thought you were giving blood," Trish laughed. She wrapped her arms around her waist and fell onto her side.

Ally blushed and wrapped her hands around the neck of the guitar. "I just wanted to accentuate the muscle."

Austin opened his mouth to speak but instead of words laughter poured out of him. Ally felt her face heat more. She stepped away from him quickly, tottering on her high heels. She nearly fell but he reached out and caught her.

"Let me go," she huffed. When he didn't, she followed his line of sight to whatever was behind them.

"Oh my gosh!" Ally giggled.

Trish's laughter drowned out the couple's own as she pointed to the young man across the room. She rolled from side to side on the couch, tears streaming down her cheeks. She gasped for air only to laugh harder with the next breath.

Posed on the bottom stair in a glittery black skirt, Dez jutted his hip to the left as he tossed the baseball up and down in his right hand. His long arms and legs were covered in colorful marker, designs of popular Florida sports teams' logos standing out among simple flowers. A mini keytar hung around his neck. When he realized the laughter hadn't ended after a full minute, he stepped down from the stair and stood with the group.

"I expected some initial shock at my new look, but come on, guys," he said.

Trish's chest rose and fell rapidly. Her arm was flung over her eyes and her grin took up most of her face. "Guys, Ally put something in the cookies."

"No. No, I did not and will never." Ally kicked off her heels and put her guitar on the couch. "But thank you, Dez," she said, standing in front of him. "Seeing how ridiculous you look makes me realize how ridiculous I must look. I think I'm going to be cool just the way I am."

"Hold up," Trish said. She sat up straight and waved her finger from Ally to Dez. "This was about being 'cool'? Dez, you don't go to Ally for how to be cool. I've seen her read non-fiction books."

"Hey!" Ally said.

Austin chuckled.

"And Ally, you don't go to Dez for how to be cool. Because, you know, he's Dez," Trish continued.

"Whoa, I have tattoos," Dez said, looking pointedly at Trish. He smoothed down his sequined skirt. "And a kilt. I'm oozing fashionista coolness right now."

Ally bit her lip and whispered to Dez, "That's not a kilt, Dez. I told you to look in the room my dad stayed in."

Trish licked her thumb, reached forward, and rubbed Dez's arm. She pulled her thumb back and held it for the group to see the red and blue smudges. "Tattoos don't work this way."

Austin tugged Ally by the hand and asked, "Hey, why do you want to be cool?" Ally raised her brow at him and he corrected himself, "I mean more cool, of course."

She looked over at Dez. His eyes nose-dived to the ground and the tips of his ears turned pink.

"Just me being a little goofy. Too much summer sunshine," she said, patting Austin's chest then leaning her chin to it. "Just be glad we didn't have any hair dye and I had to settle for Dez braiding the yellow ribbon into my hair."

"I like your hair," Austin said. He fiddled with the end of her braid. "I like when you play guitar, too. Let's go have a jam session."

"Okay," Ally said. She slipped her hand into his and the two of them walked out of the room, gazing into each other's eyes.

Trish sat on her knees and shouted over the back of the couch, "What about Go Fish? I was winning!" When she received no response, she turned in her seat and flopped down. "I win then."

She looked up as Dez sighed. He had his chin tucked and he was tapping on the keys of the instrument around his neck.

"Yeah, I think this night's over," Trish said. She stood from the couch and headed for the stairs, waving her hand behind her. "See you in the morning."

"Hey," Dez called out. He took two long strides to stand in front of her. "Um…"

"You're not cool dressed like that, Dez," Trish said.

He frowned.

"As your friend, I'm obligated to tell you stuff like this. And laugh at you." She gave his getup another once-over and chuckled. "A lot."

He smiled at her and said, "Friend, cool."

Trish climbed the stairs and yelled back, "Not cool. You're very uncool."

"But friends!"

"Of circumstance!"

"Joking?!"

"Mostly!"

He heard her laugh from the top of the staircase and he thought it made the itching from the glittery skirt worth it.

"I see you went with pants today," Trish said as she and Dez walked the path through the fields to the greenhouse.

His arms still had faint traces of color from the marker.

Dez high-stepped beside her. "I do miss the freedom, though." He glanced at her pink capris and added, "You should never wear pants."

Trish raised an eyebrow but then she remembered whom she was talking too and that he just meant she should wear skirts. She shook her head. "I'll keep that in mind. Now hurry up, we have a lot of demos to make for Ally."

"Don't worry. I'm totally focused," he said, opening the door to the greenhouse. "I'm not even going to ask you any questions."

Trish nodded as she placed her bag on her desk. "Good."

"At least not a lot of questions," Dez said, spreading flowers on his workspace.

"Whatever." Trish rolled her eyes. "Let's just stick to non-love topics. I get enough of Ally and Austin drooling over each other."

Dez chuckled, "Alright. Let's talk favorite jellies."

Trish bunched her brow and stood from her desk. She shushed him and held up her hand.

"You hear that?" She asked with her head tilted.

Dez concentrated on the sounds around him. He heard something, like loud thumping. Galloping. Trish ran out of the greenhouse. Dez hustled after her. Across the field of flowers, on the blanket of green in the distance, they could see a short man on a horse speeding toward the house.

"Let's hope it's not trouble," she murmured before taking off toward the farmhouse.