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I end up staying up late to perfect my ideas for the park installations.

I find a vendor online who sells eight-foot heart-shaped frames for floral design for only a bit more than renting one, and this way we could use it next year, too.

As long as I keep to inexpensive flowers, the whole thing would still be under budget.

The cost of the tile mural is a little harder to estimate, as I want reclaimed tiles, and the online prices for tiles from demolition are wildly variable.

I eventually use a generous estimate, knowing that we can probably get the materials cheaper.

I’m positive both ideas would be big draws to get people to the festival.

I have no clue what Miles will think of them though.

Will he call the giant tree mural trite?

Will he have an issue with the heart-shaped floral arch?

These are all the kinds of things he was against for the park named after his precious Lionel Osmond Love.

They are so… romance-y. But then again, he kissed me one night, then took my sister out a day later.

Miles Desai apparently doesn’t have a problem with “romance” at all.

When I get to Queen station, Miles is waiting for me outside.

After a brief hello, we walk to City Hall, barely speaking to each other on the way.

Which is fine, even though seeing him for the first time since he kissed me on my balcony is weird.

He looks… Well, unfortunately, he looks hot.

I guess he dressed up a bit for this meeting, because he’s in dark pants and a dark button-up shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

His strong forearms are on full display with their corded muscles covered with soft brown skin.

He looks so good that I really shouldn’t have been surprised that he turned out to be a player like every other good-looking eighteen-year-old in this city.

When we get to City Hall, a twentysomething South Asian woman meets us.

She introduces herself as Alex, Su Lin Tran’s assistant, and takes us by elevator up to the councillor’s office.

Su Lin looks younger than the pictures I remember from when she was campaigning a year ago.

She’s small and looks to be in her early forties.

Her straight black hair is cut in a no-nonsense bob, and she’s wearing dark pants with a black T-shirt and a royal-blue blazer over it. She smiles.

“Sana, Miles! So glad to finally meet you in person! Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink? I was about to get myself a coffee—I have a five-cup-a-day habit!” She laughs.

We tell her we’re fine, and then she excuses herself and leaves us alone in her small office. I’ve never been inside City Hall before. Through the window, I can see Nathan Phillips Square. It’s full of tourists and locals sitting by the water feature or taking pictures of the big TORONTO sign.

“You look different, again,” Miles says finally. “Not used to seeing you in… beige.”

I raise a brow. I’d put on my most professional outfit for this meeting—the same one I wore to meet prom vendors. A pale cream blazer—vintage, of course—with a pink blouse and dark dressy jeans. My hair is in a bun on the top of my head, and I have pink lip gloss on.

“I told you I can be professional,” I snap, then sigh. I need to do a better job of masking the annoyance in my voice, because this isn’t professional.

“I know. I didn’t doubt you could,” he says. I can’t read his expression. He looks away from me, gazing out the window. “I’ve never met someone who looks that beautiful in anything she puts on.”

What? I turn quickly to him, blinking. Before I can say anything, Su Lin and Alex come back to the office, each with a mug in hand.

Su Lin smiles as she sits at her desk. Alex pulls out a chair to sit next to her. “Now, I want to hear all about how the festival planning has been going. I was so impressed with your proposal! I’m here to help in any way to make this event a success.”

Miles and I go over our plans so far. She saw our budget in the proposal, but we mention some changes we made to it since we got the approval. We show her April’s draft of the website, my sketches of the logo, and our plans for entertainment.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” she says. “What a smart idea to reach out to local music and dance schools for entertainment. What about vendors? Maybe some international food offerings?”

I nod. “We’re putting a vendor application form on the website when it goes up. One thing we’ve decided is we don’t want to accept any that are in direct competition with the Love Street businesses.”

Su Lin frowns. “I wouldn’t worry about a bit of competition. A variety of offerings will bring in more people! Maybe check with Rossi’s on Gerrard—they can make some custom cupcakes.”

There’s no way I want Rossi’s—the chain store that cut into Ina Kozlak’s profits—at our festival. Just as I’m about to mention how we already have an amazing bakery on Love Street that makes the best cakes in the world, Miles cuts in.

“Of course,” Miles says. “We’re happy to consider every application.”

“Excellent.” Su Lin flips to the next page of the plan. “What about the park? It says you’ve allocated funds for a major art installation, but it doesn’t say what it is.”

I smile. “I have it here.” I pass out copies of my proposal to Miles and Su Lin and explain both the floral heart piece and the tile mosaic tree.

“The mural mosaic will be an alternative to the popular love locks that you see on bridges and fences,” I explain.

“We wanted to do something more unique and sustainable. We can get reclaimed tiles and cut them into hearts or leaves. People will buy a tile to write a love message on it, and they will all be combined into a mural by volunteers on-site. My art teacher has volunteered to supervise.”

Su Lin flips to the sketches that Ms. Carothers and I made yesterday. Miles is studying his copy too. He looks at me, a small smile on his face. “This is the coolest idea, Sana.”

Su Lin nods. “I agree. I love both plans. How lucky that your mother’s a florist!

If you want your mural to be permanently added to the park, you’ll have to complete a mural application form with the city.

Let me know when you submit it, and I’ll make sure it’s fast-tracked.

And don’t worry about using used tiles. I’m positive I can get the tiles we need donated from Danver Hardware.

In fact, they’ll probably donate some labor, too. I’ll have Alex reach out.”

Danver is a big nationwide chain of box stores. I’m about to protest. A partnership with a store like Danver is exactly what we don’t want for the festival. But suddenly Miles’s hand taps my knee, clearly telling me to shut up.

“I can contact them,” Miles says. He’s been taking notes on his copy of my proposal the whole time I’ve been talking, but I can’t see what he wrote.

We go over the rest of the festival plan together.

Su Lin looks genuinely impressed. “I think we should reach out to the media soon. It’s such a great story—an event like this conceptualized and planned by two teenagers.

Be in touch if there are any other ways my office can help; this is exactly what my constituents need.

We’re going to make the Love on Love Street Festival the best neighborhood festival in the city! ”

After saying goodbye, Miles and I leave City Hall. Despite the tension between us, I’m so excited about the meeting that I can’t stop myself from talking about it.

“That went so well, didn’t it?” I ask as we head toward the subway. I need to rush to Cosmic so Jenn can go home.

Miles nods. The look of awe on his face tells me that it went way better than he’d imagined it would too. “Yeah. It’s huge that we have that kind of support from someone in City Hall. We’re very lucky.”

I shake my head. “Not lucky . We worked for this. The Love on Love Street Festival is going to be a real, amazing thing, and it’s going to be exactly what Love Street needs.

We did this together… you and me.” Even if he’s a player, I have every intention of continuing to work my butt off with him for the festival. The street needs us.

Miles looks at me, clearly not knowing what to say.

I know he’s aware that I’m mad at him, but he doesn’t know why .

If I want to be mature and professional while we’re working together, maybe I should tell him that I know he went out with Sarina on Sunday night.

I should tell him that I will keep working with him, but our friendship, or whatever else he had in mind, is off the table.

Miles gets a text right when I’m about to say something. And his face changes from mild annoyance and confusion to a big incandescent smile after reading it. The kind of smile he used to give me.

“Who was that?” I ask. It might not be Sarina. It could be about the festival.

He slips his phone into his pocket. “No one. Personal stuff.”

Yeah, that was probably Sarina. I really don’t care anymore about being professional . If he’s going to keep things from me, then he can figure out on his own why I’m completely done with him.

We’re at the subway stairs by now, but there’s no way I want to ride the train with him. Without even saying anything, I keep walking toward the next station instead of following him down the stairs. I don’t even know if he notices.

So I’ll be a little late for work—Jenn will understand.

Cosmic is pretty quiet that evening, so I’m doing homework at the counter when someone comes in. It’s Alex, Su Lin’s assistant. I smile and say hello and that it’s nice to see her again so soon.

She smiles. “I don’t live very far, and when you told me about this store, I knew I had to see it. You left this in Su Lin’s office.” She hands me Miles’s messenger bag.

“Oh,” I say, taking the bag. “Thank you. Want me to show you around? We just got some new stock in.” I get off my stool behind the counter.

I end up helping Alex pick out a pair of wide-legged green pants and a tie-front blouse. They look fantastic on her. She’ll be the most fashionable person at City Hall. She leaves right in time for closing, and I lock the door behind her.

I see Miles’s bag, still on the counter.

Does he even realize he left it behind? I know there’s nothing valuable in it like his laptop or phone, but still.

He might be worrying about it. I send him a text explaining everything and that his bag is here at Cosmic, and he answers quickly that he’ll pick it up tomorrow.

I take the bag to the back room for safety, but as I put it on the desk, curiosity gets the better of me.

I know I shouldn’t snoop in his things, but I really want to know what he wrote on my proposal.

Did he actually think my ideas were good, or was all that writing just him poking holes in my plans like he always does?

I’m not going to go through all his things—just the folder he had the festival paperwork in.

I take out the folder and open it. My proposal is right on top, and it’s covered with his handwritten notes.

His comments are neither nitpicky nor complimentary; they’re just so…

Miles . Like suggesting reaching out to a specific charity that resells construction goods for the tiles and plywood and making sure none of the flowers in the installation are toxic to the wildlife in the area.

Detailed oriented and conscientious. I exhale.

Even after I snapped at him today, he still took my ideas at face value and thought of ways to make them work. To make them better, if I’m honest.

I don’t understand how someone so thoughtful and…

well, logical , could be a player. But then again, I don’t know for sure that he saw Sarina on Sunday night.

Maybe there’s another explanation. I close the folder, but when I’m putting it back into his bag, an envelope falls out of it. A familiar envelope.

It’s my father’s letterhead from his commercial real estate office.

Why would Miles have a letter from my father?

I can’t help myself—I pick it up and look at it.

It’s empty and doesn’t have a stamp or an address on the front, just my father’s office address in the left corner.

On the back in unfamiliar handwriting, someone has written an address sideways.

I don’t recognize the handwriting—it’s definitely not my father’s.

The address is on College Street, and when I quickly google it, I see that it’s a fancy tapas restaurant.

I remember the text I saw at brunch—Miles told Sarina that he had the address. Sarina, who works at my father’s office, with easy access to his letterhead, could have given it to him. I close my eyes as a wave of nausea moves through me.

I put the envelope back in his bag and lock up the store. This is all the proof I need; I am 100 percent done crushing on Miles Desai. I open a text to him.

Sana: I’d appreciate it if you would stop commenting on my appearance when we’re working on the festival. I want to keep things professional between us.

It takes a while, but eventually I get a response.

Miles: Understood.