Page 371 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Audrey, you’re worth a little extravagance.”
I close my eyes, momentarily stunned by the thrill of hearing my name on his lips. Not to mention the words coming out of his mouth.I’m worth a little extravagance? Be still my freaking heart.
I press a hand to my chest. I should not be thinking like this. I should not be enjoying his attention this much.
“And I bet those jeans looked amazing,” Flint says.
I smile, happy his sisters can’t see the goofy expression on my face. The jeansdidlook amazing. Best my butt has ever looked, not that I’ve ever paid particular attention to how my butt looks inanypair of pants. The closest I’ve come is putting on jeans mysisters have thrown at me, insisting they’ll look fine even if theyarea little short in the inseam. It’s possibly dangerous that I’ve discovered the magic of a pair of jeans made formybody instead of my sisters’ much smaller frames.
“Maybe,” I say through my grin. “Though, nothing is as amazing as the dress I’m currently wearing.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Has Remy taken good care of you?”
“Her and everyone else,” I say, sensing in Flint’s tone how much he wants this to be true. “Thank you for today, Flint. It’s possible I might freak out tomorrow when I try to fit everything in my closet, but for right now? It’s been a good day.”
“Can we make it a good night too?” he asks, and I pick up on a tiny note of hesitation in his voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight. I owe you a conversation, so I was thinking you could come back to the house, I could order us some takeout, then we can talk. Maybe watch one of those movies I sent over since I’m positive you haven’t watched any of them on your own yet.”
I bite my lip, a faint flush spreading across my chest. “What makes you so sure I haven’t watched?”
“Audrey,” he says, his tone dry.
“Fine,” I concede through a smile. “But I had to work late last night! I genuinely haven’t had time!”
“I was also thinking we could take another picture to post on Instagram. Something to keep people guessing.”
My heart sinks, hating the reminder that no matter how amazing this feels, it isn’t real.
“Oh. Right. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
“So you’ll come?” Flint asks.
I glance at my watch. It’s just past two o’clock, but, according to Olivia, I still have an appointment at a salon for whatever makeover-ing they decide I need. Idowant to talk to Flint,though. As nervous as the prospect makes me, I’ll feel better if I have some clarity about what to expect moving forward. Fancy clothes are nice, but they won’t matter at all if I’m so overwhelmed by everything else that I’m in a constant state of panic.
“It might be late,” I say. “We aren’t quite finished with everything.”
“I don’t mind late,” he says quickly, almosteagerly. “I’ll wait up.”
I agree to Flint’s plan, we say our goodbyes, then I hang up the call, his words echoing in my mind the entire time.
I’ll wait up.
I look at myself in the mirror and study my reflection. He’ll wait up for what?
For me? For this woman looking back at me?
Once upon a time, I used to dream about being the kind of woman who wore fancy dresses. Or even justregulardresses. Anything even remotely cute or moderately fashionable would have been a step up from the practical, mostly frumpy clothes I wore.
I figured out by middle school that I didn’t have a very strong sense of style, but more than that, I figured out that I didn’t have the social skills that seemed to go along with being fashionable. You couldn’t just havethe look.You needed the personality to go along with it. The confidence. I didn’t have either of those things, something that was made even more obvious as my twin sisters grew up. It didn’t take long to realize that everything I lacked, they had in spades.
That’s when I really gave up trying.
What did I know about putting together a cute outfit? And where would I even wear it if I did?
Attending a magnet high school for the smartest math and science kids in the entire state didn’t help my cause. By college, Iwas settled into my ways. My clothes were functional. Practical. As boring as my nonexistent social life.
