Page 48 of Kissing is the Easy Part

She could’ve talked to me in person a minute ago. Also, that’s not whatliterallymeans. I text back,You think I’m thrilled to do all the work?

Flora:You think I’m thrilled about dealing with your attitude? When are we meeting to discuss this?

Sean:Sunday at ten? The Pavement

Flora:It’s not due for three weeks

Sean:Let’s start early and get it over with

Flora:Whatever. Try not to be late

Sean:Right back at you

* * *

When she calls me early Sunday morning, she proves she can be dreadful when she puts her mind to it.

“Good morning!” Her voice booms through the phone.

“What?” My eyes refuse to open. “What time is it?”

“Showtime! Let’s tackle the much-dreaded history project.”

It’s a quarter past seven. I barely slept, thanks to a pulled quad that flared up all night, and now my head pounds from every direction. “We agreed to meet at ten.”

“Sure, but I got back from an all-night party so I’m available now. Let’s get this over with.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Come on, I waited a whole hour before calling you. I’m at the Pavement.”

I roll over, pulling the duvet over my head. “See you at ten.”

“Sean Foster, if you don’t show up in fifteen minutes, I’m coming straight to your house.”

I take a deep breath and exhale into the phone. Knowing Flora, that’s not an empty threat. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Perfect. But hurry up. I can’t stay long. It’s not going to take all morning, is it?” she asks, like I’m a kid pestering his parents for a trip to the park. “I have plans this afternoon.”

For a moment, I can’t remember anything I liked about her.

Chapter Fifteen

Flora

Fine. He wanted early? I gave himearly.

Josie might be fine letting Sean do the heavy lifting, but that’s her prerogative. I don’t want any favors from him.

I sit at the Pavement, drumming my fingers on the wooden table. This is where we had our first date, back when he was still the adorable guy who polished off my cinnamon roll. Now, he pushes open the glass door, a mixture of exhaustion and wariness on his face.

“What’s so hard about showing up at the agreed-upon time?” He drops his laptop and a stack of history handouts on the table. I brought nothing except my wallet on chain, having just spent the evening watchingThe Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Loverwith Raymond at his place. He obsessed over the gore and the grotesque violence, while I was captivated by Jean Paul Gaultier’s stunning costumes. That was followed by a techno party, where I barely had time to sit down, let alone get any sleep.

You don’t seemecomplaining.

“You’re here already, so quit whining.”

He casts a glance at me and shakes his head. Fake eyelashes probably aren’t his thing. “Okay, what have you got?”