Page 377 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Wasn’t it?
I do not want to date a man well-known enough for Ann down at the Feed ’n Seed to put his face on a cookie.
I want a normal life. Asimplelife.
I mean, yes. I actuallydidhave a good time on Saturday night. Once we decided that our evening wouldn’t involve any kissing.
We ate, we laughed, we talked for an hour before we finally settled in to watch a movie, a drama about a wildlife biologist who gets trapped in the Amazon and survives on her own for three weeks before she’s rescued.
Flint was right. Ididlike the movie. From beginning to end. It was thoughtful and informative and, according to the research I did after I came home, mostly historically accurate. I mean, I’m not fully converted. But I’m at least willing to acknowledge there might besomemovies out there that aren’t a waste of my time.
Though, let’s be honest. I could have sat on the couch and watchedSesame Streetfor two hours as long as Flint was beside me.
Which is why all of this feels so complicated.
I don’t want to like Flint.
I shouldn’t like Flint.
Everything logical and practical and smart tells me that liking him would be averybad idea.
But Idolike him. When I’m around him, none of those practical reasons seems to matter.
I’ve seen him half a dozen times in the five days that have passed since last Saturday—don’t judge, those squirrels arereallyinteresting—and every time, it’s harder and harder to see him as anything but a normal guy. Well, not normal exactly. He’s much too charming to be normal. Charming, handsome, funny, thoughtful. He’s basically perfect. Andperfectandnormaldon’t feel like they belong in the same sentence. I just mean it’s hard to think of him as a celebrity. Because around me, he really doesn’t act like one.
I zip up my last suitcase and slide it off the bed, setting it by the door. Joni came over to help me pack earlier this morning andgood griefshe has me bringing way more than I actually think I’m going to need. The only thing I didn’t have to pack was my gown for the premiere, which Remy promised me would be pressed and perfect and hanging in my hotel room by the time I arrive.
My sisters swooned over my new wardrobe for hours, begging and bartering for the chance to borrow the things they love the most. I’m taller than my sisters. I have broader shoulders and bigger boobs, but there are a few things, the dresses and a couple of the jackets, that will work for them.
They didn’t even really need to beg. It’s not like I’ll spend a lot of time wearing these things anyway. At least not after this weekend. Last time I checked, my grad assistants, and the state forest rangers who share my lab space don’t care what I wear to work.
The squirrels definitely don’t.
I just have to get through the next few days. Attend the events. Fake it with Flint. Then come back to Silver Creek. To my normal life in my normal town.
Let’s not talk about the fact that I’ll probably stillseeFlint after this week. He lives here, after all, and if I’m ever in the forest, there’s a good chance I’ll run into him.
But he can’t stay in Silver Creek forever. Eventually, he’ll have another movie to film. He’ll jet off to some faraway location where he’ll fall in love with a Brazilian bombshell who loves the limelight and would like nothing more than to bask in his celebrity for the rest of her days.
A pulse of irritating jealousy rushes through me. Which is juststupid.I’m not even supposed to like the man, and I’m jealous of a woman my brain just created all by itself?
Maybe I’m worse off than I thought.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Summer says from the doorway of my bedroom. “Flint just pulled up outside.”
“He’s driving?” I ask.
“Yep. His very pretty truck. Looks like he’s alone.”
“Well, we aren’t traveling alone, so that’s weird.”
Summer shrugs. “Maybe you’re meeting the rest of his team at the airport?”
Summer seems so calm about this. Talking about Flint’steamlike it’s perfectly normal for someone to travel with an entourage. In the week since I had dinner with Flint, or as my rebellious body likes to remind me, the night when wealmostkissed, my sisters have grown more comfortable with the idea of me spending so much time with a movie star. Or maybe they just got tired of my shutting down their attempts to talk about himconstantly.
Either way, I’m glad today doesn’t feel like some ridiculous send-off. I’m just a girl going to the airport. That’s all.
“I’m ready,” I say, picking up my shoulder bag, some butter-soft extravagance that I picked up in New York.
