Orange Grove Operative

The orange grove smelled like summer and desperation, which basically summed up my entire junior year experience. I was technically supposed to be harvesting, but in reality I was deep undercover for my best friend Chloe's love life.

"Any movement on Target Z?" Chloe whispered through my AirPods like we were in some low-budget spy movie. I cringed so hard I nearly dropped my crate.

"Chloe, his name is Marcus, and please stop calling him Target Z. He's just a guy who works at the citrus stand."

"A guy with perfect hair and a smile that could end wars. Did you see him look at me yesterday?"

"I saw him look at everyone. He works at a stand, Chloe. Looking at people is literally his job."

Buster, the grove owner's ancient golden retriever, flopped onto my foot and let out the world's saddest sigh. He knew what was up. Buster had witnessed my entire social downfall this semester, including the time I tried to sit at the popular table and accidentally knocked over someone's kombucha.

"Look," Chloe continued, "I need you to do some actual spying today. Ask him what his type is. Casually. Like, while buying oranges or whatever."

"That is the opposite of casual. That's literally the most un-casual thing I could possibly do."

"Just—ugh, figure it out! You're good at this stuff. You have those vibes."

"What vibes? The vibes of someone who's currently standing in a grove talking to their friend about a guy while surrounded by oranges and a dog who judges me?"

Buster chose that moment to sneeze directly onto my shoe.

"See? Even the dog ships it."

"The dog ships nothing. The dog wants treats and attention."

I walked toward the citrus stand, orange-stained hands shoved in my pockets, preparing for the most awkward conversation of my life. Marcus looked up and smiled—that smile Chloe was obsessed with—and I realized I was about to risk my dignity for a crush that would probably mean nothing in six months.

"Hey!" he said. "Ready for the usual?"

"Actually," I started, my voice doing that weird cracking thing, "I was wondering—"

Buster bounded over and barked, effectively saving me from whatever train wreck was about to happen.

"Someone's excited," Marcus laughed, tossing a dog treat from under the counter. "Your dog's awesome."

"He's not my—"

"You guys are together all the time though, right? I see you walking him every afternoon. It's kind of adorable."

I stood there frozen. Buster. Me. Together every afternoon. Adorable.

Oh.

OH.

"Marcus," I said slowly, "when you look at me and Buster... what exactly do you see?"

He shrugged, his face turning the exact shade of some of the riper oranges. "I don't know. Just thought you and your boyfriend seemed really happy with the dog."

"My WHAT now"

"Your boyfriend? The guy who's always with you? Dark hair, kinda tall, looks at you like—"

"That's JAVIER. He's my NEIGHBOR. He walks Buster with me because his MOM makes him."

Marcus's eyes went wide. "Oh. Ohhh."

"Yeah. Ohhh."

"So... there's no boyfriend?"

"No boyfriend. Just me, the dog, and my neighbor who would literally rather be doing literally anything else."

"Huh." Marcus leaned against the counter, smiling differently this time. "Well. That's... actually kind of perfect timing."

"Is it."

"Yeah, because I was trying to figure out how to ask the orange grove person out without making it weird with their boyfriend."

I looked down at Buster, who was wagging his tail like the absolute traitor he was. "You planned this, didn't you?"

He barked.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

Later, when I told Chloe everything, she screamed so loud I had to hold my phone away from my ear.

"I TOLD YOU!" she yelled. "I TOLD YOU THE DOG SHIPPED IT!"

"The dog shipped me and Marcus. The dog did not ship you and Marcus. Your ship has sailed. Your ship has literally sailed away."

"Whatever. You owe me. I want details. Every single detail."

"Get in line," I said, watching Buster chase his tail in circles. "Even the dog wants the tea."