Chapter Fifteen
Flora
Fine. He wanted early? I gave him early.
Josie might be fine letting Sean do the heavy lifting, but that’s her prerogative. I don’t want any favors from him.
I sit at the Pavement, drumming my fingers on the wooden table. This is where we had our first date, back when he was still the adorable guy who polished off my cinnamon roll. Now, he pushes open the glass door, a mixture of exhaustion and wariness on his face.
“What’s so hard about showing up at the agreed-upon time?
” He drops his laptop and a stack of history handouts on the table.
I brought nothing except my wallet on chain, having just spent the evening watching The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, & Her Lover with Raymond at his place.
He obsessed over the gore and the grotesque violence, while I was captivated by Jean Paul Gaultier’s stunning costumes.
That was followed by a techno party, where I barely had time to sit down, let alone get any sleep.
You don’t see me complaining.
“You’re here already, so quit whining.”
He casts a glance at me and shakes his head. Fake eyelashes probably aren’t his thing. “Okay, what have you got?”
“Ginger latte. It’s not bad.”
“No.” That look of controlled irritation is hard to miss. “For the history presentation. You must have some ideas already.”
“Oh.” I chuckle. “I thought we were supposed to talk about what each of us has to do, and then I can start.”
“What?” He pulls back. “I didn’t expect much, but showing up empty-handed? Impressive.”
“Hello, did you mention anything about bringing research? I rely on clear instructions. You set up the meeting, so it’s your responsibility to communicate what you expect to achieve. Obviously, we approach things differently.”
“That’s an understatement. Why bother meeting if you came unprepared? You’re wasting my time.”
Hard to believe that the last time we were here, all I wanted to do was kiss him. Now I want to smack my purse over his head. “Forgive me for not being well-versed in silent academic telepathy. Please, wow me with your brilliance.”
Without further words, Sean turns on his laptop and it whirs to life.
This guy has a folder full of files already, all in order, and I pray he won’t go through each and every one of them.
He clicks one open, and a dashboard with a taxonomy system pops up, where he’s already highlighted key terms on medieval history.
I try concentrating. I really try. But five minutes in, I yawn.
He frowns. “All-night party catching up to you?”
I wave a hand. “Go on, go on, I’m listening.”
He starts again. It’s barely eight in the morning, but the place is filling up.
In the back, a lady is adjusting the lapel of her tailored wool coat.
Two tables away, a girl’s beige calfskin shoulder bag hangs off the back of her chair.
Would that color work on me? Maybe with a monochrome look—camel coat, cream knit, gold jewelry.
Sean snaps, “Nice of you to zone out after I did all the work.” For someone who’s sleep deprived, he sure has a lot of energy for biting my head off.
“Look, I’m sorry, but your presentation is tedious. And for the record, I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do, so you and your 4.0 GPA can quit acting like it’s my honor to be paired with you. Be mad at Josie.”
Sean goes still for a second. He lets go of the mouse and leans back in his chair.
Then, in that maddeningly calm voice of his, he says, “I know you’d rather not be my partner.
So how about this? I’ll do everything myself.
I’ll write the paper, put your and Josie’s names on it, and I’ll handle the presentation alone.
You just show up on the day, wear something hot, and we’ll call it equal contributions. ”
It takes everything in me not to dump my ginger latte onto his lap.
Or laptop. Whichever hurts more.
“You’re so condescending.”
He exhales. “I’m getting coffee first.”
I stifle another yawn. “While you’re at it, get me a vanilla latte. I’ll Venmo you.”
He walks off, and out of habit I check out his butt before catching myself. I whip my head in the opposite direction. A guy at the next table pulls out a chair and sets down a leather duffel bag.
The bag.
The exact same one I tried to give Sean last Christmas. I even posted a bunch of photos of my gorgeous boyfriend holding expensive leather, only to delete them later (along with every other picture of him on my account).
Now my gorgeous ex-boyfriend sets a mug down on the table—hard—breaking me out of my reverie.
In retrospect, it’s no wonder we broke up.
Every time I wanted to offer him something nice, i.e.
a night at my parents’ lake house, a romantic date with a carefully planned itinerary, or a gift I spent hours picking to match his style, he made me feel stupid.
Sean pulls out his chair and sits down. The café hums with conversation, the clinking of cups, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. It’s all so normal, exactly like before.
“Do you ever think of how it was when we were together?” I ask.
Sean pauses, midsip. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Do you?”
He sets his coffee down. It takes him a long time, then finally he says, “I try not to.”
“So you do.”
When he remains silent, I press on. “What do you think about?”
“Flora, this isn’t the kind of history I want to discuss. Can we get back to business?”
“Come on, it’s been ages. We’re seniors now. Surely we can talk about it and maybe have a good laugh? How we defined ‘opposites really shouldn’t attract’?”
My heart pounds and my fingertips grow cold despite the hot beverage. Nothing about us can be treated with a breezy laugh. I’ve stopped crying over him, but the feeling of being abandoned is left unresolved. The way he ended it was like shutting off a movie twenty minutes before the ending.
And I need closure.
“Okay.” He reclines in his seat. “What do you want to hear?”
“I want to know if you were happy and if you regret ever being in a relationship with me.” The words come out all at once, a rush of everything I’ve wanted to ask but never could.
I hold my breath.
“No, it was fun. You’re entertaining in small doses.” He answers straightaway, carelessly, as if I’m a silly YouTube clip of singing cats. “Why, do you regret it?”
I shrug. My breath hardens into a knot in my chest. “I guess not. There are only so many guys in our school. I would’ve gotten around to dating you eventually. Good thing to get it out of the way.”
“Yeah, thanks for the honor.” His voice is clipped, sharp around the edges. “If we’re done reminiscing, can we get some work done? Don’t want you running late for your next date.”
My god, he can be insufferable.
I shake my head as he flips open his laptop. The old Sean is gone, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put us back together again.