AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One
Eden
One month ago
The walk to the greenhouse is cold. All across campus, the wind howls and rattles the college windows. It’s that time of year when winter grapples with spring, and either season could come up victorious for the next week: choppy steel-gray waves headbutt the shore in the distance, while new blossom buds cling to tree branches, shivering too hard to open yet.
The sunshine is pale and watery. Bundled up in all my winter layers, my breath mists against my scarf where it pillows my chin, and my fingers are toasty-warm inside gloves. My boots thud across campus, along the coast path, and up the stone steps to where the greenhouse glass dome perches on the cliff side.
By halfway up the stone steps, I’m sweating, tugging my scarf loose and carrying it instead. When I reach the top, the wind blows clean through my clothes and I’m frozen again, my sweat chilled against my skin.
Shading my eyes against the bright sunshine, I turn in a slow circle, taking in the view. Long grass ripples across the clifftop, combed by the wind, while out at sea the waves foam at the mouth. Sunlight glints on the water, and seabirds screech as they play on air currents high above, while the town of Kephart spreads down below, spooning the college campus.
It’s all so small down there—like a model town. I moved here from my identi-kit suburb two years ago, and every day this small town makes my heart thump faster.
But no sight hitches my breath like the Kephart greenhouse. Looming above the town on the clifftop, its glass walls sparkle in the sunshine, and there’s a whole miniature rainforest shadowed inside.
I’m early. Of course I am. Two whole years, I’ve waited for my placement in this greenhouse, and today is my first day. As a Botany major… this is it. The promised land.
Tugging my gloves off with my teeth, I stuff them in my jacket pockets as I wander to the entrance. The heavy glass door is closed, but when I tug on the handle it swings open with a sigh of hot air.
Inside, through heavy strips of dangling plastic, it’s another planet. A stream trickles somewhere nearby, hidden for the moment by the tangle of foliage. Everything is bigger in here: the trees stretching up toward the clouds, visible through the glass ceiling; the waxy green leaves, some the size of small canoes; the flowers; the jewel-toned butterflies that flit from plant to plant. It’s hot and humid, and birds chatter up in the canopy.
“Hello?” The door swings shut behind me. Shrugging my backpack off, I stuff it with my scarf while peering through the tropical plants. “Is anyone here?”
The door was open, but should I not have come in? This greenhouse is the college’s masterpiece, after all, and they don’t even let tourists in, even though selling tickets could make a fortune. It’s all about the science here, science and conservation, and no one is allowed in the greenhouse without an invitation and a supervisor.
“H-hello?” I try again, wincing at the faint stammer. It’s been a long time since I struggled to speak clearly as a kid, and my old speech impediment hardly ever comes back to haunt me. Only when I’m super stressed or excited—and right now, I’m both. “Can anyone h-hear me?”
After freaking years of speech therapy, here I am still tripping over my words—and normally that makes my chest clench tight, but this morning, I’ll give myself some grace. This greenhouse is the reason I picked Kephart College, after all, and I’ve spent two whole years down on that campus, staring longingly up at this cliffside. Of course I’m jittery right now.
Leaves rustle a short way down a winding stone path, and for a crazy moment, I think of tigers and giant snakes: creatures that hide in the jungle then strike like lightning, snatching their prey…
But of course it’s a human man who steps onto the path, dressed in faded jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with the Kephart College logo. His shoulder length bronze hair is half pulled back, and a short beard clings to his square jaw.
“Hey!” he calls, beaming at me. “Be right with you.”
The man smacks his gloved hands against his hips, glancing around him for dropped tools. His arms are tanned and toned, and his chest is broad with muscle. When he leans over to grab a small pair of pruning shears, those jeans cling to his taut ass.
Oh, god.
Wetting my lips, I shake my head to dislodge the ringing sound in my ears. No luck.
Who is that guy?
Behind me, the door swings open again, and another student pushes through the heavy strips of hanging plastic. I blink over my shoulder in a daze, nodding as my fellow Botany major and debate club rival, Jeremiah, peels off his sheepskin jacket in the sudden heat. Jeremiah jerks his chin up at me in return, eyes sparking with challenge.
Here we go.
Let’s be honest: neither Jeremiah nor I would pick the other as our greenhouse placement partner. We’ve had too many vicious debates, tearing each other’s argument to shreds; our Biology grades have come close too many times. Our strained relationship is nothing but sore spots.
But this is the Kephart greenhouse. For some things, you put your rivalries aside.
“Hey,” I say, throat still tight as Jeremiah comes to stand by my shoulder. He’s gazing up at the vines trailing from tree branches, and he barely registers the demigod with the pruning shears. Is he blind? “Can you believe this is finally happening?”
No stammer this time, thank god. The last thing I need is for my debate club rival to sniff out my weakness.
“About time,” Jeremiah agrees. Then, eyeing me: “Think we’ll be graded on a curve for this placement?”
