Page 33 of Kissing is the Easy Part
Chapter Nine
Flora
We’re sitting in my bedroom the day before I’m set to leave with my family for Wyoming for vacation, and I set my chin against Sean’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you so much during the Christmas holiday.”
“Me too.” He strokes my cheek. “I’ll call you all the time.”
“Hopefully we have the same definition of‘all the time.’”
“Don’t worry. Hey, you haven’t opened my present yet.”
The prospect of opening gifts is always appealing, though I’ve learned not to get my hopes up with guys. It’s the thought that counts. Part of the fun is acting delighted when I’m inwardly horrified at their taste.
I open the tiny black box.Jewelry is usually a bad idea.But a pair of exquisite earrings are nestled against soft fabric. The metal is a soft, burnished bronze, aged with a timeless patina. Each piece holds an oval crystal, the facets catching the light with a subtle shimmer that evokes a vintage heirloom.
I’m speechless for a second. They’re perfect. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! You have great taste!”
“Madison does. I sent her a bunch of pictures and asked her opinion. She’s brutal, by the way. I’m terrified of her.”
He shows me the texts:
1. Tell me you sent that by accident. Do you hate her?
2. Is it a Christmas gift or a breakup announcement?
3. I’d rather receive a handwritten apology than this.
4. Slap yourself. Now.
5. Send me your location. I just want to talk.
6. . . . . . . . . . . . .
I burst out laughing. “Mads is ruthless. I wish you gave me a heads-up about exchanging gifts, though. Now I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”
“You gave me the key chain.”
I scrutinize my room, tapping a finger against my chin. “That was only a trinket. Doesn’t count. I’m sure I can find something among this mess to give to you.” I rope him into a game of hot or cold, shouting out random temperatures to throw him off, until he pulls out a large Louis Vuitton paper bag from the back of my closet.
His fingers freeze over it. “Baby, please tell me you’re using a Louis Vuitton bag to disguise something else.”
“I’m offended. Do I look like someone who’d do such a tacky thing? Go on, open it!”
He lifts the gift like it might detonate—a duffel bag in the classic monogram print. I chose it for him because, even though I appreciate his simple style, a little glam wouldn’t hurt. The deep caramel and rich tobacco tones add dimension to his usual cool-toned palette, an intentional contrast. Some people say it’s too new money, but on him, it works. The right statement piece can elevate an entire wardrobe.
“Do you like it? You can bring this anywhere and travel in style!”
“I like it.” He bites his lower lip. “But I can’t accept it.”
“Oh my god. I knew it. I had my doubts, but I thought since your clothes are so . . . understated, maybe something bolder would work. A single standout piece against clean neutrals. I should’ve gone with something more low-key, like Bottega Veneta, but this felt like a calculated risk.”
“It’s not that. I’m no fashion guru, but I know how much this must’ve cost.”
I wave him off. “It’s not that expensive.”
(Okay, it kind of was, especially after I splurged on that tweed jacket for myself, but it was totally worth it.)
“I really,reallyappreciate it, but this is too extravagant.” His face is all guilt and sincerity.“I’m more of a JanSport kind of guy. Can we return it?”
