“I’m okay,” Lulu says.

Cass smiles at her. “Glad to hear it.”

And then, in that moment, Lulu wants something with sharp, specific clarity: for Cass to reach down and touch her hair. The desire goes through her so suddenly and violently that in order to keep herself from leaning into it, asking for the contact even just with her body, she leaps up to her feet. She walks to the far end of the balcony and peers around the edge of The Hotel.

“Hey,” she asks, “what’s over here?” There’s something tall, a structure, glinting from among the trees just around the corner.

“Oh,” Cass says. “The building, you mean? That’s the greenhouse.”

“Like, for growing stuff?”

“Yeah, like for growing stuff. Apparently it was one of the things The Hotel was famous for back in the day—it had this amazing collection of rare plants and things.”

“What does it have now?”

“Dust, mostly. Ryan had the structure repaired and reinforced, but he hasn’t put anything in it yet.”

“Can we go there?”

“God, I should have known you were gonna make me get up.”

“We don’t have to—” Lulu starts, but Cass is already standing, and smiling. It doesn’t look like she really minds.

The greenhouse is, in fact, dusty. The doors are propped open and it’s sitting in the shade, but even still, it’s hot inside. All that afternoon air, trapped and magnified by the glass. Lulu calls up to the rafters, a nonsense sound, but it doesn’t echo. Tree branches brush the roof over their heads. For the first time since she’s been at The Hotel, Lulu thinks the word abandoned.

“We don’t come in here much,” Cass says. She’s lingering near the door, almost as if she’s afraid to walk all the way inside.

“No greenhouse projects?”

“Ryan says he has a black thumb.”

Lulu walks around the perimeter. There’s nothing in here but space and air.

“You like it,” Cass says. It’s not a question.

“I do.”

Cass smiles.

“What?” Lulu asks.

“I’m glad.”

“Okay—okay.”

Cass holds her arms out and twirls her wrists absently. Lulu likes the way the length of her takes up space.

“We have this little orchard that’s my favorite place at my dad’s house,” Lulu says. “I like places where things can grow.”

Cass’s smile gets wider. “Lulu,” she says. “Are you secretly kind of . . . a hippie?”

“Absolutely not.” Lulu crosses her arms in front of her chest.

It doesn’t stop Cass’s grin. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “You play like you’re some scary, too-cool party girl, but—”

“Hey,” Lulu says. “You think I’m scary?”

Cass raises an eyebrow at her. “Not anymore.”