Page 65 of Drawn Together
“Then maybe you could help?”
“I could.” He pulls his phone out and hands it to me. “Text your number, I’ll see what I can do.”
I do as he says and turn back to see Fletcher is still alone, arms crossed and eyes staring.
“Can I get something extremely girly for my friend over there?” I jerk my thumb back. “Preferably with an umbrella in it?”
When I walk back to Fletcher with a wide grin and a frozen pink and yellow drink in hand, he is staring at me with raised brows.
“Well,” I set the drink in front of him and the scowl he had been sporting is now replaced with amusement, “I did it.”
He takes a sip of the drink. “You did?”
“I think? He kind of asked if I wanted to go to his house to see all his plants outside, and I was like well obviously it’s too dark outside tonight, so no.”
Fletcher’s amusement seems to grow. “Oh? So, no date?”
“Well, then in a roundabout way he asked if I wanted to go to some exclusive bar in Brooklyn—Westlight, I think? I said it sounded cool, and he said he could take me, then made me text him.”
He nods. “Sounds like a date.”
“Oh my gosh.” I clasp the table. “I have a date.”
Everyone has the quote wrong, Fletcher thought. It’s jealousy that makes the heart grow fonder, not distance.
Twenty-one
Wordoftheday:Basorexia
Definition:the overwhelming desire to kiss
Tonight's book club meeting is a little different. Instead of discussing our choices of literature, we—and by we I mean I—switched things up and traded our usual book discussion for a cozy outdoor movie night. Having explored various local online discussions, I found a mention of a skyscraper rooftop cinema showing movies every Friday evening, and I instantly bought tickets the moment I saw the film selection.
The Princess Bride flickers to life on the large projector screen, the familiar score swelling and echoing through the speakers behind us. I am so thankful that I remembered to bring both of us blankets to ward off the evening chill while workers hand us buttered popcorn and hot chocolates. Fletcher—bathed in the warm glow of the screen and shoveling popcorn faster than anyone I’ve met—has already animatedly planned our next gathering, voice full of excitement, as next week marks the beginning of their Halloween movie marathon.
Twenty minutes into my re-falling in love with young Cary Elwes, Fletcher leans so he’s more on my chair than his.
“So, uh, when’s your big date?”
“Tomorrow night,” I whisper.
“Oh, that’s…soon.”
I turn from the screen to his face, lit up by the flashing of blues and red in front of us.
Is it? My stomach is already in knots over the whole thing.
“I guess so.” I shrug. “I think I want it to be over already.”
“Flora, you shouldn’t be dreading a date.”
“I’m not; I’m just nervous.” Though, that in itself feels like a lie.
“It’s just drinks, yeah?” A woman turns in her chair and gives Fletcher the middle finger and some choice words at a much higher volume than his own. Fletcher tries to shrink in his chair unsuccessfully before scooting closer to me and whispering lower in my ear.
“Talk to him like you talk to me. Don’t overthink it. If he’s a solid guy, he’ll guide you in the conversation, and it shouldn’t be too awkward.”
My teeth gnaw at my fingernails. “What if he asks my favorite color?”
