Mari held up a pink peony and a white one. “Which do you like better?”“What is this for again?” I said.Mari sighed. “For my bouquet. Pink or white? My dress is white so I thought pink, but I kind of like the idea of having all the flowers be white, too.”A few days after that mind-blowing kiss with Jacob, Mari invited me to her place to help her with wedding planning. Kate had joined us as well, although she was busy studying for an exam. I didn’t know how she managed to concentrate while Mari and I talked bouquets, but Kate had always had a remarkable ability to retain information with little effort. I was surprised she was even studying at all. “Neither,” I said finally. I began to sketch a bouquet in pencil. “Since your bridesmaids are wearing pink, it’ll be pink overload if your bouquets are pink, too.”Mari nibbled her bottom lip. “That’s true.”I glanced at the color selection that Mari had chosen, my brain putting together arrangements and discarding them just as q

I hadn’t been able to figure out my own dilemma by the time I joined Anna that evening, a week after that kiss with Jacob. She had the rare night off, and we went to a fancy new bar only a few blocks from her apartment. During the day it was a coffee house that served deconstructed lattes (because of course it did), but at night it turned into a fancy cocktail restaurant that served things like deconstructed avocado toast. It was just an avocado that you had to peel yourself and a piece of bread on a wooden cutting board that cost $20.I was well into my third cocktail, feeling the delicious buzz of alcohol, when I bemoaned, “I’m a mess, Anna.”“We all are. But don’t blame yourself because Jacob left you high and dry. Well, not really. He left you wet and cockblocked.” She snickered.“I’m never going to get a guy to pop my cherry at this rate.” I stared at my martini, mostly hypnotized by the preserved lemon curl floating in the liquid. I wondered if I could eat it. Pulling it out o

I’d long since realized that plant people were all, collectively, a little strange. At conventions like this one, it was as if their strangeness was amplified tenfold. Suddenly it was perfectly socially acceptable to thrust a sample of soil macrobiotics in someone’s face, or wax poetic on the best kinds of rakes or shovels.I had a small booth where I was selling a variety of flower bulbs that we grew in our greenhouse: tulip, dahlia, and peony bulbs. Although we didn’t have a huge selection, people recognized our store and knew that our bulbs were some of the best in the state. I wondered if I was going to sell out before the convention was even over, which would be great, but also a little awkward since there was still one more day after this one.I was glad of the distraction of people wearing shirts that said things like I’m so excited I wet my plants as they asked me all sorts of questions about our bulbs. It allowed me to forget about that strange conversation with Jacob last n

I fell in love with Jacob a third time when I was seventeen. I also fell out of love with him at seventeen.Yes, this is the prom story.In April of my senior year of high school, Anna came skipping up to me at lunch, her face flushed. She proceeded to tell me that Sam from band had asked her to prom, despite our pact that we wouldn’t attend because prom was dumb.“You know it’s going to be too many people packed into the Country Lodge, with the deer heads on the walls, and everyone’s going to be drunk and sweaty,” I said. “And Sam is probably going to try to grope you in the back of his pickup afterward. Wow, sounds fun.”“Now you’re just being a jerk.” Anna grabbed her lunch and stood up. “And Sam doesn’t drive a pickup. He drives his mom’s minivan.”With that parting shot, Anna left me to sit at lunch alone. She was always my lunch buddy—my only one. If either of us was sick, the days were long and lonely without each other. Guilt sat in my stomach like lead. I was ab

When I opened the door to my apartment Friday night, I expected Jacob.What I didn’t expect was Jacob wearing a tuxedo and with a corsage in his hand, a boutonniere pinned to his lapel.His expression serious, although I could see a smile at the edges of his mouth, he said, “Are you ready for prom?”I glanced down at my outfit: jean shorts and a V-neck shirt. At least I’d put on some makeup. “I don’t exactly have a prom dress hanging out in my closet,” I said. I’d gotten rid of the one I’d planned to wear the next day after Jacob had stood me up.Jacob stepped into my apartment. “That’s fine. We can have prom here.”He handed me the bouquet—an arrangement of pink roses and sunflowers—and then said, “Put out your hand.”He put the corsage on my wrist. This one also had pink roses. “Did you make this?”“I did. Do you like it?”“I love it.” My heart felt like it was going to spill over. “I can’t believe you did this.”“It’s nine years late, but I thought I’d make it up to you. I