Page 317 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“How was your squirrel hunt?” she asks as she ladles sauce over the three plates lining the counter.
I settle into a chair at my small kitchen table. “Successful until the Incredible Hulk put me in handcuffs for trespassing.”
My sisters both stop in their tracks and turn to face me. “Umm, what?” Lucy asks.
I grab a piece of bread out of the basket in the center of the table. “So I guess I wastechnicallytrespassing on some famous person’s property, and I got caught. But it was totally stupid because they thought I was trying to take pictures of the guy who actually lives there. Which—why would I ever do that?” I take a bite of bread which is delicious enough to make me cry real, happy tears. “Anyway, the security guy told me I could go if I gave him my memory card, but there was no way I was giving it up after I got a picture of a white squirrelfifty miles away from its native home.” I shrug and cram the rest of my bread into my mouth, suddenly feeling famished. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten all day, and I reach for another piece. “So the police came, and I was almost arrested, but then they figured out I was a biologist, and it was all just a misunderstanding, so they let me go.”
When neither of them responds, I look up, cheeks chipmunk full, and look from one sister to the other. Both of them are staring like I’ve been speaking an entirely different language. “What?” I ask before digging into the second piece of bread.
Lucy puts a plate in front of me, her movements slow and deliberate, then lowers herself into the chair across from me. “Audrey. What famous person?”
I pick up my fork. “I don’t know. Flint somebody? Am I supposed to know who he is?”
Summer’s jaw drops. “Youdon’tknow who he is?”
Lucy’s hands are pressed against her chest, and her eyes are wide. “Let me get this straight. Youtrespassedon Flint Hawthorne’s property? As in,theFlint Hawthorne? Did you see him? Did you see his house?”
I take a big bite of pasta and groan. Forget crying over the bread. This pesto is unbelievable. I’m sure Lucy is an excellent nurse, and she seems to really like her job. But I still think she missed her calling in life.
“Audrey!” Summer practically yells, snapping my attention back to their question.
“I met him,” I manage to say in between bites. “And I don’t like him. He won’t let me come back to photograph the squirrels, which is particularly irritating because now I know they’re absolutely living on his property.”
“So it was Flint Hawthorne who bought your research forest,” Summer says, like this is some amazing revelation. She looks at Lucy. “We knew he moved back home. We probably should have made that connection.”
I take a long swig of water. “Honestly, what’s the big deal with him?”
“Oh my gosh,” Summer says. She lowers her face into her hands. “You met Flint Hawthorne, and you don’t even care.”
Lucy scoffs. “Of course she doesn’t care. This is Audrey. What else would you expect?”
“I mean, sure,” Summer concedes. “Maybe I wouldn’t expect her to win a game of ‘Who’s Who on the Red Carpet,’ but we’re talking aboutFlint Hawthorne.He’s this generation’s Tom Cruise.”
“I do know Tom Cruise,” I say unhelpfully. Just don’t ask me to name any of his movies. Something with planes and missions,maybe? Oh! And the one where he was a sports agent. I watched that one on an airplane once. “But you still haven’t answered my question,” I say to my sisters. “How did you guys know some random actor was moving to Silver Creek?”
“He’s from here,” they say in unison.
“He’s aHawthorne,” Lucy adds, emphasizing his last name. “Like, a Stonebrook Farm Hawthorne.”
I recognize the Stonebrook Farm name—it’s a commercial farm on the other side of town. But the last name doesn’t mean much.
“He was a few years ahead of us in school,” Summer says, “so we never met him. But he’s like, the darling child of Silver Creek.”
“He’s younger than you though,” Lucy clarifies. “I bet you went to school with one of his older brothers.”
“You’re forgetting I didn’t go to high school in Silver Creek,” I say. “And I don’t remember anyone from middle or elementary school.”
Summer waves her hands in front of us like this whole conversation is suddenly bugging her. Neither of my sisters has taken a single bite of their food. “We’re missing the point,” she says. “The most important thing here is that Flint Hawthorne ishere, and you just met him. You need to tell us everything.” She leans forward, her posture mirroring Lucy’s. “What was he like?”
“What was he wearing?” Lucy adds.
“What did he say?”
“Did he smile? He’s famous for his smile.”
“Is he as gorgeous in person as he is in movies?”
My sisters are identical twins, but I can always tell them apart even without using the cheater butterfly tattoo Lucy has on the back of her neck just below her hairline. From their mannerisms to the way they style their hair, even just the way they carry themselves.
