Chapter 1

HARRISON

Plants have always been my thing. One of my earliest memories was digging in the dirt, uncovering a small burst of green, and getting Dad to help me replant it. That thing grew like a motherfucker, and Dad didn't have it in him to tell me it was fire bush, and you can't spit in Florida without hitting one.

I was so proud.

The fire bush prompted a vegetable garden, then a fishpond, where I was more interested in the reeds and water lilies than the koi, but it was right around then, when I was excitedly showing my friends from school how tall the cattail had grown, that I got my first life lesson.

People don't give a shit about plants.

All my friends wanted to do was watch the fish swim.

I'm still annoyed about it.

I slow my jog by the Bean Necessities coffee cart on campus and order a green tea, then move off to the side to wait. From this exact spot on campus, if I tilt my head just right, I have a straight line of sight to the beach across the road. It's the smallest view of the water, but something about seeing the way the sun reflects off the waves gives me a boost to start my day.

Nature is incredible.

Making the move from Florida to here for college was a big call. It's something I debated about endlessly with my parents, but not once in all my years at Franklin U have I regretted it. I have great friends, the weather is always sweet, my professors are mostly awesome, and the greenhouse on campus is one of my favorite places in the world.

I'm always so happy to get back here after summer break, and while I still have time to enjoy it while I complete my master's, my goodbye to this place is getting closer, and I have no fucking clue what to do next.

Something with plants is my aim, but unless I want to work in a nursery, ecologist positions aren't exactly easy to walk into.

"Harrison," Austin, fellow redheaded king, calls, holding up my tea. Even with the steady orders at this time in the morning, he's fast. I've never asked, but I think he's learned I'm here at around the same time every day because I never have to wait long.

He was confused when I started asking him to call me Harrison and not Bowser. It was my nickname for so long—hello, red hair and loving video games—but now that I want to be taken seriously as an ecologist, I'm trying to break away from that. Get serious and whatever.

Sometimes I slip—like the friend I made in stats class, I accidentally introduced myself as Bowser—but I've gotten good at stepping into grown-up me.

My walk home is longer than it used to be. I miss living in Liberty Court, but now that I've graduated, it didn't make sense to keep on living with a bunch of undergrads, and my best friend and his boyfriend needed a roommate. Thank fuck they chose to stick around because looking for a room to rent is a land mine of bad experiences.

I swing by home for a quick shower, as quietly as I can since Felix and Marshall are either still sleeping or have left already and I don't know which, and then I leave again to check on my plants before class.

The greenhouse on campus takes up the rooftop of one of the science buildings and is a fucking godsend. Not only for my plants; it's an amazing hookup and date location too.

The number of chicks who've put out up there would horrify Professor Nottering if he ever found out. Which he won't. Because I'm a star pupil.

I jog up the stairs to the rooftop and take a moment to look out over campus. To recenter myself before the madness of the day starts. You can't help feeling like a king up here, above the streams of college kids passing below.

I shuck off my shirt and tuck it into the waistband of my shorts before I step inside.

The first thing that hits me is the familiar scent of dirt. The floral scent of the magnolias. A tinge of manure that's mostly smothered by the overpowering lemon of the cleaning chemicals. This greenhouse has been used by a bunch of Franklin U students over the years. There are aisles of projects, towering trees, a Zen Garden near the back, and a series of mini biodomes, which were one of the first things I was shown in science, and I'm still obsessed with them.

My section is in the furthest corner from the door, where Professor Nottering and I cleared out space for my regeneration efforts. The amount of flora that's dying out is concerning, and if I can prove that reintroduction is not only easy and cheap but necessary, the world will be in a better place than it is now.

Which brings me back to my first life lesson: how to get people to give a shit about plants.

To get people to fund animals, all you have to do is shove a cute koala in their faces. Plants?

Fucked if I know.

"Hello, Stacy," I coo, checking in on my flame lily. She's flowering perfectly and has really taken to the environment I created for her. "What do you need today, my sweet?"

I check her over and make sure the soil is hydrated enough before moving on to my next plant. They're all pretty, all useful, but none of them are enticing people to come and see them. There's a big difference between picking a girl up and promising her pretty flowers and getting serious investors to fund wildlife ecosystems.

"Jesus, Rich," I say when I reach my white roses. "Big weekend?" Some of his petals are dull, and there's a brown tinge to his leaves I don't like. I make myself some notes with possible scenarios and proven treatments. "Y'all are going to give me a heart attack. We don't need that today, thanks. All I ask is that you lot grow how you're supposed to and get greedy with those nutrients." I give the soil at Rich's base a soft pat. "You'll be okay, mate. We'll have you feeling better in no time."

Of course, they don't answer me back, but sometimes it's fun to pretend. Plants are living, growing, photosynthesizing beings, and they should be treated as much our friends as animals are.

I close Rich's mini greenhouse and move on to an experiment that I started for funsies. It's been done a thousand times before, but the results never fail to delight me.

Three plants, side by side, in their own mini greenhouses. I have everything in there controlled down to the temperature, the water volumes, the air quality … and the ambience.

One plant has silence, and the other two are played a constant track of my voice.

The first is told it's doing good. I'm so proud. It's such a pretty little mother-in-law's tongue.

The second is told I hate everything about it.

From the display of one proud, green plant standing tall against the stunted brownish tuft, the results are indisputable.

If words can affect plants in such an obvious way, imagine what they do to other humans.

I sigh as I lock up, wishing people were more responsible with their lives. We're here for such a short time and somehow have such a big impact—yet so many people strive to have that impact be a shitty one.

Whether it's being an asshole, or littering, or living in excess.

So often, the human race is given a choice.

Too often, it chooses wrong.