Part 59 (2/2)
”Um. No. Me and her, we're not like... dating, but she helped me with something. I want to thank her and she won't talk to me.”
Tegan stares as if I'm speaking a foreign language. ”Since when were you and your brother interested in what girls think of you?”
Since Fleur.
”I'm not, just want to thank her.”
”Uh huh. I don't know. Buy her some flowers.” She pours a gla.s.s of water and gulps down the contents. ”Tell Jax I'll see him later.”
Before I can respond, Tegan slams the gla.s.s on the counter and glides past me, grabbing her phone from the table on the way past. The door slams as she leaves the house. A couple of minutes later, a ha.s.sled looking Jax appears at the foot of the stairs.
”Has Tegan gone out?”
”Yeah. What did you do this time?”
”Said something I shouldn't. As usual. Man, what am I supposed to do?”
My mouth twitches into a smile. ”Buy her some flowers?”
FLEUR.
When the large bunch of pink roses arrives at the house, I panic. If Shaun bought me flowers, is that a not-so-subtle hint? After what he said when I left the room today, I'm wary.
Until I read the card.
'Thanks for the help with my paper. Sorry about my behaviour the other night. Can I please explain?'
Unsigned, but no prizes for guessing who.
I fight a smug smile. A rock star bought me flowers. Nate Campbell bought me a bunch of roses.
Anne points at them. ”Secret admirer?”
No way am I telling Anne they're from Nate and giving fuel for her fire. ”Looks like it.” I grab the card and fold it, pus.h.i.+ng it into my pocket.
”You're dressed up, where are you going?”
I look down at my short blue dress, teamed with a yellow cardigan. ”Hardly.”
She points at my face. ”You have lipstick on. And is that mascara?”
”I often wear make-up!”
She purses her lips for a moment. ”Oh! Are you going on a date? With history dude?”
”Maybe. Yes.”
”Nice.” She grins. ”Where?”
”Spice Room.”
”Even nicer! A bit pricier than Curryleaf.”
”Is it?”
”I guess he wants to impress you.”
”I guess.”
”Enjoy!” Anne shoves me towards the front door. ”And I want a picture. Is he hot? Or is he a cardigan wearing nerd?”
The smile I give her is the answer. Hot? Undoubtedly. Carrying a mixture of excitement and nerves, I leave for my date.
19.
FLEUR.
We step out of the restaurant, and I s.h.i.+ver. In my eagerness to leave my house, I left my coat at home. A cardigan isn't enough for tonight, even with the warmth flowing through from Shaun's attention.
”Are you cold?” he asks.
”I'm fine.”
He takes one of my hands and rubs it. ”You are. Here.” Shaun peels off his jacket and drapes it across my shoulders, despite my protests.
I relent, glad of the extra heat from his woollen jacket. ”Thank you.”
”No problem. I was going to buy you flowers, but thought you might get the wrong idea after what I said earlier, so I'll make this my romantic gesture.” He takes my hand and squeezes. ”I've enjoyed tonight.”
”Me too.”
Shaun's the perfect dinner date. Polite and interested in what I have to say, and we chatted about more than work tonight. He told stories of his time as a student, and listened to mine. We chatted about and planned an evening at the Royal Shakespeare production happening next month, and compared our favourite plays. This guy didn't behave like a kid; he never picked vegetables out of his meal the way Nate did out of his sandwich or made loud, stupid comments.
Why am I giving time to thinking about the guy who makes a career out of humiliating me?
”I wondered, do you want to come back to mine? Seems too early to end the evening.” When I don't reply he adds, ”Or we could watch a movie. No pressure.”
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