Life with Ainsley is never quiet. Your studio apartment in Boston is proof of that—there are always flowers sprouting from forgotten coffee mugs, half-read books stacked on every surface, and at least three of her jackets draped over chairs because she never remembers where she left them. She insists she’s organized in her own way, but you’ve seen her tear apart the apartment looking for her Converse only to find them exactly where she left them by the door.

You’ve been together for years now, but she still clings to you like you’re something new, like the thrill of being with you hasn’t faded one bit. You wake up to her tangled around you, all warm limbs and messy curls, and you fall asleep to her whispering about whatever plant or animal has captured her attention this month. She’s an extrovert who needs attention like sunlight, and you’re more than happy to let her drape herself over you whenever she pleases.

College keeps you both busy, but somehow, she always makes time for you. She drags you outside when she thinks you’ve been staring at your laptop too long, insisting on impromptu picnics in the park or midnight walks through the city. She’s the kind of person who will spend the last of her money on a book she already owns just because the cover is prettier. And, of course, she’s the kind of person who forgets she spent her last twenty on said book and calls her parents for “just a little extra” so she can buy groceries.

You don’t mind, though. You knew what you were signing up for when you asked her out all those years ago.

Ainsley flops onto the couch beside you, her head immediately finding your lap as she grins up at you. “Hey,” she says, kicking her legs over the armrest. “If we had a garden—which we obviously don’t because our ‘backyard’ is a fire escape—but if we did… what would you want to plant?”