Page 55 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
“But he’s—”
She cuts me off. “I didn’t say I have a problem with it. I’m just calling a spade a spade. As long as he isn’t paying you for sex, you’re fine.”
“Sex?” I squeak out. “You don’t think—surely he doesn’t—” I press a hand to my stomach. “Oh, man. I don’t feel so good.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Summer reaches over and grabs my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “We’re getting off track. And I’m positive Flint Hawthorne isnotexpecting sex.”
“Right. Of course not. Because that would be ridiculous.”
“Totally ridiculous,” Summer repeats, but my thoughts are moving so fast, I barely hear her words. It’s like the minute she mentioned sex, my brain lost a gear and spun completely out of control.
Summer lets out a little laugh. “Still, can you imagine?” Her expression turns sly, and she bites her bottom lip.
All at once, my jumbled thoughts coalesce into something potent and sharp, and I reach out and smack Summer’s knee. “Stop imagining sex with my fake boyfriend right this second.”
Her eyes widen, and her mouth stretches into a wide smile. “Oh my gosh.”
She jumps up and runs to the door. “Lucy! You’d better get in here.”
“What! Why?” I demand. “Why are you getting Lucy? And why are you smiling like that?”
“What? What’s happening?” Lucy bursts into the room, her apron on and a wooden spoon in her hand.
“Audrey likes Flint,” Summer says.
“What?” Lucy and I say at the same time.
“That’s why you’re so freaked out right now,” Summer says. She turns to Lucy. “I made a comment about imagining sex with Flint, and Audrey immediately turned into a jealous she-bear and practically pushed me off the bed.”
I roll my eyes. “I did not push you. I smacked your knee. And I’m not jealous, because I do not like him. Excuse me for thinking it’s wrong for you to sit there, thinking about him like he’s some sort of—”
“World-famous movie star?” Summer says. She lifts a hand to her chest in mock exasperation. “How dare I?!”
“He might be a movie star, but he’s also a person,” I say. “Why is it okay for people to think of him like an object just because he’s famous?”
“It’s a fair point,” Lucy says. “But if that’s the way you feel, definitelydo notGoogle Flint Hawthorne fanfiction.”
“Fanfiction?! What is fanfiction?”
Lucy and Summer exchange a look. “Nothing for you to worry about,” Summer says. She scooches over and makes room for Lucy on the bed. “You know, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if youdidlike him, Audrey. You’re great. He seems great. Why not be great together?”
“I don’t know that he is great. I barely know him. And you only think he’s great because you’ve seen him in movies. It’s not the same thing.”
“And interviews,” Lucy adds. “We’ve seen him in tons of interviews, and he’s very charming in interviews.”
“Ohhh, the Graham Norton interview!” Summer says. “When he talks about his mom and all the little baby goats on the farm and then they bring out anactualbaby goat, and he totally knows exactly how to hold it and feed it like he’s a total pro.”
Lucy sighs. “Or the one where he goes into the coffee shop wearing a headset and he has to repeat everything that Ellen Degeneres says, and the barista gets so flustered that she starts to cry, and then he gives her a hug and goes to all this effort to make her feel better.”
“Seriously? You guys have been watching these videos all along and never thought to share them with me?” I make a mental note to do some Googling as soon as I’m alone again. Which—am I ever alone these days? Lately, it seems like my sisters are spending less and less time in their actual apartment. Or maybe it’s just that I’m spending less time in my lab.
Ever since Flint, nothing has been the same.
“Share them with you?” Summer says. “Are you kidding? Audrey, a month ago, you would have laughed in our faces if we tried to share celebrity news with you. The fact that you’ve somehow evaded the magic of Flint Hawthorne all these years is totally on you.”
“We’re still missing the point,” Summer says, holding up a hand like she’s trying to regain control of the conversation. She looks at me pointedly. “You said you liked hanging out with him today. If you don’t like him, then what’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out.”
