Page 153 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
A knock sounds on the door behind me, and I spin around, my heart hammering even faster than it already was, which is saying something.
I force a calming breath.
I can do this.
Everything isfine.
“You’ve got this, Lila,” I say as I move toward the door.
The sight of Perry on my doorstep does very strange things to my body. I’ve never seen him wearing anything besides work jeans and flannel. Now, he’s dressed for a party. Dark dress pants and a slim-fitting button down, the top few buttonsundone. He isn’t wearing a tie, but he doesn’t need one. His clothes are perfect. Like they were tailored just for him.
I suddenly feel shabby in the midnight-blue dress I pulled out of the back of my closet, no matter my fantastic non-constrictive shapewear. I should have bought something new. Something that would make me look like I belong standing next to a man this impossibly perfect.
“Um, hi,” I finally say, my voice sounding stupidly breathy and light. I quickly step back. “Come in. Glad you found the place.”
Perry steps inside, making my very tiny house feel even tinier. I’ve never actually seen a fully grown man inside these walls.
His eyes skate over me, and panic starts clawing up my throat. He hates the dress. Does he hate the dress? “What’s wrong? Is it the color?” I ask, looking down at my dress. “Does it look like I’m going to a funeral? I wasn’t sure how fancy I needed—”
“Lila,” he says gently, taking a step toward me and shutting the door behind him. He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Your dress is perfect. You look beautiful.”
“Oh.”Perfect. Beautiful.I could get used to all these adjectives. “Okay. Let me just grab my—” My words cut off when my phone rings from where it’s sitting on the end table next to the couch. I glance at the screen to see Miranda Templeton’s name across the top. “Actually, I need to take this. This is Jack’s grandma. Just sit a minute.”
I motion to my couch, but then I look closer and immediately regret it. On one end, there’s a massive pile of Jack’s matchbox cars. On the other, there’s aPeopleMagazinewith Flint Hawthorne’s face on the cover. AWESOME.
I lunge for the magazine. Perry can work out how to sit on the matchbox cars on his own. The last thing I want him to think is that I sit around reading articles, or worse, staring at pictures of his famous (and famously handsome) brother. I grab themagazine and toss it into the narrow gap between the couch and the wall before answering my phone.
Nothing to see here! Move along! Move along!
“Hello, Miranda. Is everything all right?” I ask, watching Perry out of the corner of my eye.
His lips twitch as he shifts Jack’s cars to the side, but otherwise, he doesn’t react. Except, he’sgoingto react if I don’t—I shift my phone to my other hand and reach over to grab a miniature ambulance before Perry can impale himself with it.
I barely make it, his butt grazing my arm on his way down. I hold up the ambulance like it’s some kind of trophy, then realize what I’m doing and toss it behind the couch with thePeopleMagazine.
“Everything’s fine, dear,” Miranda says. “I just wondered why you didn’t pack the tennis outfit I bought for Jack last month.”
I cringe. “Oh, did I forget? You know, I think it’s in the wash,” I lie. “I’m sorry about that.”
She sighs into the phone. “Well, I suppose I can just buy him a new set. Maybe I’ll keep it down here for next time so we’ll always have it on hand.”
“Miranda, he grows so fast. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He can just play tennis in the clothes I packed for him.”
“Not if he’s ever going to be a professional,” she says, and I almost laugh at how serious she sounds. “He has to dress the part, Lila. He’ll take it more seriously if he’s wearing the proper attire.”
I roll my eyes. Jack is a lot of adorable things. A tennis prodigy is not one of them. I mean, he’s only five, so I guess stranger things have happened. But the last time I watched him play, he wouldn’t stop using his racket to catch the lizards crawling over the azalea bushes beside the court.
I know Jack’s grandmother well enough to realize I’m not going to win this argument, and honestly, if it’s notmymoneyshe wants to waste on overpriced tennis clothes for a completely uninterested five-year-old, do I really care? “Whatever you think is best,” I finally say.
“Wonderful,” Miranda says. “Jack, would you like to go get some ice cream? We’ll do a little shopping on our way.”Ha.Shopping with Jack? On the one hand, Miranda isn’t going to have nearly as much fun as she thinks she is. Jack likes shopping about as well as he likes going to the dentist. On the other hand, she’s probably going to blamemeif he misbehaves in the store. He might do all right if there’s the promise of ice cream at the end. Either way, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
“Thanks again, Miranda. You guys have fun.”
I drop the phone into my lap with a sigh.
“That sounded like a fun conversation,” Perry says.
“Did you know that five-year-olds who wear very special and expensive outfits while playing tennis are zero percent more likely to become tennis pros?”
