Page 46 of Begin Again

“Celeste…” I warn.

“Selene,” she mimics, her voice dripping with faux seriousness. “Trust me. He’ll love it.”

I glare at her. She grins wider. I hate that she’s probably right.

Snatching my phone back, I stare at the screen. My fingers hover over the keyboard. This is a mistake. This is such a mistake.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mutter.

“You’re doing this,” Celeste confirms, entirely too pleased with herself.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I type out the message and hit send.

And then I throw my phone across the couch like it’s suddenly radioactive.

Me:Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.

We stare at my phone in silence, the seconds dragging like hours. This was a mistake. A catastrophic, world-ending mistake. Maybe if I delete my number and move to another country before he reads it, I can escape the shame.

Then—my phone buzzes.

Theo:That depends, who is this?

Celeste bursts out laughing, clapping her hands like a delighted seal. “He doesn’t even know it’s you.”

“Oh no,” I whisper, staring at the screen in horror. This is it. This is my villain origin story. “What do I do now?”

“Tell him it’s you!” she says, nudging me. “Or keep him guessing. Either way, he replied, so you’re already winning.”

I chew my lip, debating. If I tell him right away, it’ll be normal. Predictable. Safe. But if I play along a little longer…

I quickly type a response.

Me:Someone who’s heard you have moves in the kitchen. Care to show me?

His reply is almost immediate.

Theo:So you’re trying to see my baguette? Bold. But just so we’re clear—there will be zero painting tutorials involved this time.

I let out an embarrassing snort, and Celeste grabs my arm, practically vibrating. “Wait—what does that mean?”

I launch into the full, fantastic retelling of our first date—the Bob Ross disaster, the once-promising landscape turned into a scene straight out of a horror film, the way Theo had flung his hands in exasperation and somehow managed to get streaks of blue and green in his hair.

“Oh my God, Sel! He knows it’s you, he’s flirting back!”

Of course, he remembers. How could he forget? One minute, we were following along with Bob Ross, and the next, his trees looked like melting broccoli, and he’d somehow managed to get paint in his hair. He was determined to make ‘happy little trees,’ and the next, they looked like they were screaming for help. I swear, I blinked, and it was everywhere.

My heart does a weird little flip, and I press my phone against my chest to stop myself from grinning like an idiot. “What do I do now?”

“You invite him over, obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Your first date was at his place, bring the date to your place this time.”

Taking a deep breath, I send him my address before typing out another message. I know he already has it but I don’t want to assume.

Me:My kitchen, tomorrow evening. Don’t disappoint me, Boulanger.

Another buzz.

Theo:I’ll be there.

---