Page 64 of Well, That Was Unexpected

“Don’t frown, dear,” the makeup artist says. “Smooth out your forehead, please.”

I try not to glower at her intrusion. My phone beeps.

George [08:12AM]:Breakfast?

My whole body blushes.

George [08:12AM]:They’ve got made-to-order waffles at the breakfast buffet.

Sharlot [08:13AM]:Gah, so tempting, but I can’t. I was ambushed by a battalion of makeup artists

George [08:14AM]:Oh yeah. I forgot about that. El has gone to Eighth Aunt’s villa to get her makeup done as well.

Sharlot [08:15AM]:You’re lucky you don’t have to get your hair and makeup done ’cause you’re a boy

George [08:15AM]:You mean because I’m naturally gorgeous?

Sharlot [08:16AM]:Eh

George [08:16AM]:Harsh.

“Stop smiling, please,” the makeup artist says, sounding markedly grumpy. “Just—keep your face neutral, okay?”

I didn’t know I was smiling until she pointed it out, and when I try to follow her instruction about keeping my face neutral, it takes a surprising amount of effort to wrestle the smile off my face. What the hell?

With a start, I realize that I hadn’t even thought twice before replying to him. Since when did it become second nature to chat with George?

“Let me guess,” Kiki says, leaning closer and peering at my phone, “texting CuriousGeorge?”

I tilt my phone away so she can’t see the screen, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I’m glad that by now I have about three hundred layers of product on my face to hide the blush that’s surely creeping up my cheeks.

“You don’t have to look so guilty about texting your boyfriend,” Kiki says, laughing.

I swear my entire face is made out of molten lava. Texting my boyfriend. How natural that sounds. Howweirdlynatural. Fortunately, Kiki goes back to tapping on her own phone and leaves me to my own jumbled thoughts. My phone beeps again.

George [08:32AM]:Ta-da!

He’s sent me a photo of waffles with slices of pork and pork crackling on the side.

George [08:32AM]:The Balinese version of chicken and waffles.

Sharlot [08:33AM]:Thanks for making me jealous

George [08:33AM]:…look again at the picture, doofus.

Frowning, I do as he says. And this time, I see that the food’s inside a takeaway box. How did I miss that before? My heart swells up like a balloon. I feel as though my entire body is made out of heart. I bite my lip to keep from grinning and the makeup artist tuts again, so I hurriedly fight to rearrange my features into something more acceptable.

Sharlot [08:34AM]:Thank you. You didn’t have to do that

George [08:35AM]:Do you want anything else from the buffet table?

He sends me a handful of pictures, this time of the buffet display.

“Is that the breakfast buffet?” Kiki says. I hadn’t realized she’s yet again snooping, but I’m not surprised.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Why’s he sending you photos of the buff—ohhh.” She looks at me, grinning like a loon. “Aww, Shar, that is so sweet!” She turns to the makeup and hair people and says, “He’s getting her food from the breakfast buffet. Isn’t that so sweet?”

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