Page 41 of Evergreen

“Well,” I nodded, moving to the next plant that needed my assistance. “I thought about asking this cute boy back to my room and then fucking his brains out.” I gave him a little shrug. “Maybe some midnight snacks afterward. Nothing fancy.”

Cass laughed, a genuine sound that still caught me off guard sometimes. Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of it. “Fucking my brains out sounds pretty fancy to me, big guy.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said, moving to the next planter. “Though we should probably finish up here first. Professor Paulson mentioned she wanted to check on the progress before she left for the day.”

“Of course she did,” Cass muttered, but he didn’t sound genuinely upset. He’d actually started to respect Professor Paulson over the past week. I’d noticed him asking her questions about plant care, of all things, when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. It was endearing, really. Watching him try so hard. She, however, was still on the fence about him.

We worked steadily for the next couple of hours, and I was pleased to see how naturally we’d fallen into a rhythm. Cass would handle the glass work, his magic flowing through the focusing stone with increasing confidence, while I tended to the soil and the plants themselves. Sometimes our paths would cross and we’d brush against each other, a hand on a shoulder, fingers trailing across a wrist, and I’d feel that familiar jolt of connection that still surprised me every single time.

The sun had been down for a while when Professor Paulson appeared in the greenhouse doorway, her sharp eyes surveying our work. I watched as she moved through the space, examining the newly installed glass panels with a critical eye. Cass stood nearby, trying to look casual but clearly nervous about her assessment.

“This is excellent work,” she said finally, turning to look at us both. Her gaze lingered on Cass for a moment longer than necessary. “Both of you. The greenhouse is almost back to full functionality. At this rate, we’ll be able to resume normal operations by the end of the month.”

“That’s great to hear, Professor,” I said, genuinely relieved. The faster we got this done, the less chance there was of someone noticing how often Cass and I disappeared together.

She nodded, but that knowing look was back in her eyes. “Linden, could I speak with you in my office for a moment? There’s something I wanted to discuss about next semester.”

I felt a small flutter of anxiety in my chest. Next semester. Which meant after I graduated. Which meant... I didn’t want to think about what it meant. No need to get ahead of myself.

“Of course,” I said, glancing at Cass. He was already moving onto the next pane of glass, careful not to look at me.

Professor Paulson’s office was exactly as I remembered it from my first day as her student four years ago. Organized, precise, and somehow both welcoming and intimidating at the same time. It smelled of damp earth and moss and was covered in several small terrariums. She settled behind her desk and gestured for me to take a seat.

“I wanted to talk to you about your future,” she began, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve been impressed with your work this year, despite the... complications with the entire thing burning down.”

“Thank you,” I nodded. “I’m trying to make the conservatory better than it was before. I’ve been rearranging some of the older species, trying to optimize for their growth habits. I think, once they have a year or two to grow, the entire facility will be a little more harmonious.”

“That’s exactly the work I’m talking about,” she said, her gaze locked on mine. “You have a natural talent for this, one that far exceeds your lineage.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest at the compliment. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do after graduation. The grove will always be my home, but I’ve realized that maybe I don’t have to choose between that and... everything else.”

Professor Paulson leaned back in her chair, studying me with that same penetrating gaze she used when examining her student’s work. “I’m mentioning this because I wanted to offer you a position. As a graduate assistant. We’re developing a new conservation program for rare plant species, and I think you’d be perfect for it. It would keep you on campus for up to two years, allow you to continue your research, and provide a salary. Not to mention, if you do well, there’s a very real chance that a position might open up for you to teach.”

I blinked, processing what she was saying. Stay on campus. After graduation. While Cass was still here for two more years. And maybe become a professor?

“I’m honored,” I said carefully. “That’s an incredible opportunity. Can I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “But I’d like an answer by the end of the semester. The program starts in the fall, and I need to finalize my team going forward.”

I thanked her and excused myself, my mind already spinning with the implications. This changed everything. Or maybe it changed nothing. I still didn’t know what would happen between Cass and me after graduation. He’d never actually said he wanted to try long-distance or anything like that. For all I knew, he’d decided that the semester was enough and we’d go our separate ways come May.

When I returned to the greenhouse, Cass was putting away the tools, his movements efficient and practiced now. He looked up as I approached, that little smile playing at his lips that still made my magic hum beneath my skin.

“Everything okay?” he asked, and I could see the concern flickering across his features.

“Yeah,” I said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. “Just some stuff about next year. Nothing urgent.”

He studied me for a moment, like he was trying to decide if he should press me for more information. Then he shrugged and handed me the last of the tools to put away. “Come on then. You promised me midnight snacks and a good fucking. I don’t want to waste any more time talking about work.”

I laughed, taking the brush from him. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you,” he said, and the casual way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It made my heart flutter, which was becoming a very common thing around him.

We finished closing up the greenhouse and made our way across the darkened campus toward the dorms. The February night was cold, the sky clear and full of stars. Cass walked close to me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brushed, and I found myself wishing I could just reach over and take his hand. But that felt too public somehow, even in the darkness.

“You know,” Cass said as we climbed the stairs to my floor, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What’s that?” I asked, unlocking my door and ushering him inside. The familiar warmth of my room wrapped around us as I closed the door and flipped the lock.