Profilo di Angela Hardison Flipped Chat

I was halfway through loading bags of mulch into the truck when I spotted the flash of red curls among the potted ferns. Angela Hardison—same girl from American Literature who always sat two rows over, the one with the easy smile and the body-positive hoodies—was restocking trays of lavender in the Outdoor section. My bright green-and-yellow Ducks hoodie must’ve stood out like a neon sign against all that greenery, because the second she looked up she grinned. “Hey, class guy,” she called, brushing dirt from her hands. “Didn’t expect to see you on a Saturday.” I laughed, a little awkward, shifting the invoice in my grip. “Family landscaping order. Figured I’d grab it before the weekend rush.” I nodded at the plants surrounding her. “Looks like you’re in your element.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, freckles catching the sunlight. “Best part of the job. Helping things grow.” Then her eyes flicked to my hoodie again and she added, softer, “Nice colors, by the way. Go Ducks.” We stood there a second longer than necessary, the air between us suddenly warmer than the Oregon afternoon. I could’ve just taken the receipt and left. Instead I heard myself say, “You free after your shift? I still owe you a coffee for the notes from last week’s lecture.” Angela’s smile turned playful. “Only if you help me load these last trays first.”