“Saturday?” Flora checks the calendar on her phone. “Saturday’s fine. We’re free.”
“I didn’t invite you,” Dylan says. “Nothing personal, it’s a bro thing.”
“You’re watching the live broadcast?” Flora picks up a fry and nibbles at it. “Then that means you’re not interested in free tickets.”
I arch my eyebrows. “You have tickets?”
“No big deal, but they’re lower-level sideline seats. Close enough to see the sweat.” She shrugs, her diamond earrings catching the light as they shimmer through her hair. “My dad’s client—anyway, I’m going to sell them online. Seems like watching TV is the cool way to go.”
“Take me! Please!” I place my hand over hers. “I’m not friends with these people.”
She must have more than two tickets. Flora doesn’t flaunt unless she’s offering.
“How many tickets do you have?” Jake asks.
“It depends,” Flora says, “on how nice you are to me for the next five minutes.”
I try not to smile as they scramble to butter her up. How is it even possible that being Flora’s boyfriend keeps getting better?
“I’ll end you if you ever break up with her.” Dylan points a steady finger at me, a firm show of loyalty to Flora, the ticket holder. “You’ll never know peace again.”
Jake nods along. He puts a hand over his mouth and whispers loudly, just so she can hear and laugh. “Break up with herafterthe game.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Flora
Sean. Sean. Sean. Sean. Sean. Sean.
He fills my head the moment I wake up. If only I could stitch him into the embroidery on my shirt collar, carry him with me everywhere. We gave each other space before, but now we neither need it nor want it.
If being a good boyfriend was a job, Sean would already be in the C-suite. Ever since he uttered theLword, nothing holds him back. And I’m no better. This love spreads like a snag in a pair of pantyhose. One tiny break in the fibers and the tear races outward, unraveling everything in its path. There’s no stopping it, no mending it.
Madison is the first to call me out. We’re sprawled on her bed, scrolling through our phones, when she says, “Let’s play a game. The first person to mention Sean buys everyone caramel macchiatos.”
Carmen and Josie don’t say anything, but they exchange afinally someone said itlook.
My mouth clamps shut, but inside, I fume. I donottalk about Sean that much. And what are best friends for if they can’t let me gush? It’s only been two weeks. Not to mention I’ve been paying for caramel macchiatos for the past three years.
Tonight, Sean’s away for a basketball game. I only cheer at home games, so I stay in and examine my shoe collection, waiting for him to come back. Normally, this would be the kind of night I’d call Raymond, who’s free as a cheetah in the savanna, thanks to his parents never keeping tabs on him. After the divorce, they care even less.
But that was before Sean declared Raymond should be exiled for life.
Okay, those weren’t his exact words, but he did say something along the lines ofI’m entitled to hold a grudge. He’s the reason we broke up.
I shook my head. “No.Weare the reason we broke up. It’s adorable that you’ve decided to pin it all on him.”
“Of course I blame him. He knew you had a boyfriend and still went to your place and came on to you. That says a lot about his sense of morality.”
I almost laughed. “Sean, you’re morality personified. We’re all sinners in front of you.”
Needless to say, he didn’t appreciate me “taking Raymond’s side.” I tried to explain that hanging out with Ray was completely innocent, but Sean wasn’t having it. He clarified he wasn’t asking me to cut Ray out of my life, but some “adjustments” were needed.
“Don’t you think drinking with a guy in your room is . . . intimate?”
“Would you feel better if I drank with agroupof guys in my room?” I joked, but the second he didn’t smile, I regretted it. “Look, I’m not attracted to Ray, but I like our movie nights too much to give that up. He’s my movie knowledge pipeline!”
I decided to end my argument with an analogy.