Page 65 of Kissing is the Easy Part
“I need to make a confession at Church Sean,” Dylan says solemnly. “I forgot to kiss my mom this morning and tell her I love her.”
I drink my milk. “I hope you find forgiveness.”
“Amen,” Jake says.
Chapter Twenty-one
Flora
After confirming Dylan and Jake’s commitment to the party, everything is pretty much set. That afternoon, Sean and I stay after school for another progress update.
Pulling out my phone, I open the group chat, scrolling through to show him who’s doing what. “I’ve got someone handling the RSVP list, and there’s a team taking care of the decorations and setting everything up. Oh, and the parking situation. They can’t park in the driveway because it’ll ruin the surprise, so we’re directing them to park at the community lot. I’m also coordinating carpooling for people who are coming from farther out.”
I tap the screen, and the pinned message at the top expands. By being added to this group, I acknowledge and agree to the terms and conditions of the party, which include: maintaining the confidentiality of the event, refraining from bringing any contraband, and understanding that failure to comply will result in Madison personally hunting you down. Please promptly leave the group if you do not wish to follow these terms.
Then I add Sean to the chat. “Meant to add you earlier, but I wanted to make sure everything was under control first. For your peace of mind.”
His eyes soften as he looks at the screen. “You’re not just organized with the fun details; you thought of the logistics too.” His voice is full of sincerity. “I don’t know what to say. You’re doing all the work. How can I help?”
“I didn’t do that much, honestly, aside from barking out orders. Turns out everyone’s weirdly willing to contribute.” If I wasn’t already the most popular girl at school, now I definitely am. Party planning is a blast.
“You’re doing this so we can save money. I can’t thank you enough.” Words likehelp,free, andcontributesure make Sean happy. Apparently, the key to a man’s heart is through guarding his wallet, or in this case, his money clip.
“To tell you the truth,” I say, my voice quiet, “I’m glad you asked me for help. For once in my life, I feel like I’m not completely useless.”
He stills. “Wait. What was that?”
“Okay,uselessisn’t the right word.” I shift in my seat, avoiding his gaze. “Sometimes I feel . . . well, unaccomplished compared to my friends. I’m all fluff. I’m a cloud of pink cotton candy. Looks good enough to eat, but no real substance. Josie’s a small celebrity with her band. Madison’s kind of a tough nut, but she’s so wise and wins every competition she takes part in. Raymond watches all those films and can quote every line, and Carmen’s both well-readandthe editor of the school paper. And . . . I always feel inadequate next to you. What I’m good at pales in comparison.”
My face flushes. He’s the last person I should be admitting this to. He’s the smartest, most ambitious and determined person I’ve ever met, and he’ll have the brightest future out of all of us.
I plaster on my sweetest cotton candy–adorned smile. “Not that I don’t think I’m fabulous the way I am, of course.”
Turning my attention to my phone, I let my hair slide down one side so I can avoid his gaze, which is for sure full of sympathy. No, thanks. He doesn’t need to feel sorry for me or even say something nice. I’ve never been the type of girl who needs people to worry about her. I’m the entertainment provider in designer jeans and perfect hair.
Sean lays his hand atop mine, and his fingers curl gently. “Flora.”
Heat spreads from my neck down to my back.
“I never knew. I can’t believe you think like that. Self-doubt happens to even the best of us, I guess.” His tone is kind and empathetic, without any trace of mockery. “There’s something very valuable about you. You were born with it. You have—”
“Family money?”
“You have awesome people skills. You have the power to inspire people, and everything you mentioned—you’ve helped them, right? Madison’s campaigns, Josie’s band image, and Carmen’s newsletter? You’re part of all of it.”
“Yup, I’ll always be the cheerleader.” I throw a fist in the air, pretending to wave around a pom-pom. “Rah.”
“Andme. Look at how you wrangled this party together from scratch. You pulled it off in, what, a week? You’re persuasive, and you get people on board, like . . . you’re a team playerandalso a leader. The kind of work you do is harder to measure, but it’s not any less impressive.” After he says this in one breath, he stops and swallows. “You get what I mean, right?”
If only my parents could hear this. They’re always stressing how leadership is equal parts strategy and execution. For once, they might realize that’s exactly what I’m doing, too, even if it’s party planning, not coordinating scientific disclosures at medical conferences. Maybe if I called it project management, they’d finally approve.
“If you put it like that . . .” I shrug, inhaling extra hard to stop my nose from running. My fingers are trembling. I embrace the rebirth of a familiar feeling, something warm and fuzzy expanding in me, like the first time he told me I’m witty and my sense of humor is sexy.
Not cool, Flora. You were supposed to makehimfall for you, not the other way around.
“Well,thank you.” I bow my head, slipping my hand out from under his. “But don’t assume you can get out of paying by buttering me up. I told you, I’m not doing this party thing pro bono.”
His mouth twists. “I’m your fairy godmother. How dare I forget?”
