Page 362 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Oh, geez.” She jumps up and runs from the room, yelling as she goes. “Summer, make her show us the pictures!”
Summer lifts her hands in surrender. “I’m not making you show me anything. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long, with all the talking we’ve made you do. I’m willing to cut my losses and see the photos with the rest of the world.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a surge of gratitude for my little sisters. There are a hundred things I don’t love about their nosy, bossy presence in my life—especially when they are so completely different from me. But I’ll be the first to admit it: the good definitely outweighs the bad.
The minute Summer is gone, I close and lock my door and grab my phone, returning to my bed.
I have some Flint Hawthorne interviews I need to Google, but I also need to respond to his text.
I look over the pictures one more time, then slowly key out a response.
Audrey:They look great. I’m fine with you posting these.
The message feels entirely too boring and bland, but what else can I possibly say? Before I can overthink it—you’re welcome, Summer—I send the message and collapse back onto my pillows like I just ran a marathon and finally get to rest.
I close my eyes, half-expecting Flint not to respond at all, but my phone buzzes before even a minute goes by.
Flint:Great. I’ll post them tonight. Can I give you a word of advice?
Audrey:Sure.
Flint:Don’t go looking for the pictures. If you have an Instagram account, don’t like the post. And most importantly, don’t read any of the comments. Lotsof people have opinions, but I’ve learned that the ones I value will never be left in a public comments section.
Audrey:I don’t have an Instagram account, so this won’t be difficult, but I appreciate the tip. Do you mind if I ask you a question?
Flint:Anything.
Audrey:Should we talk about parameters for how this whole situation is going to work?
Flint:Parameters?
Audrey:For when we go to California.
Flint:Right, so like, how long we’ll be gone. What events I expect you to attend?
I take a deep breath. That information will be valuable, but that’s not truly at the heart of what I’m asking. I muster my courage and try again.
Audrey:Sure. But also, what will you expect from ME? Hand holding? Public hugging?
Flint:I like public hugging.
He adds a winking emoji at the end of his message.
Audrey:Are you making fun of me? I feel like you’re making fun of me.
Flint:I’m not! It’s a valid question. Can we talk about it in person? Joni has a mile-long list of things to discuss with you. It might be overwhelming if we try to cover it all via text.
Before I can respond, a second text pops up.
Flint:Are you free on Saturday?
I drop my phone onto my chest, my hands trembling. But this is no big deal. I’m not overthinking. Spending Saturday with Flint will be No. Big. Deal.
Audrey:I’m free.
Flint:Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 9.
I glance at my watch. Oh great. That’s only…thirty-eight hours tonotfreak myself out.
