Chapter Twenty-four
Sean
When the power cuts at ten, someone comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. It must be Flora messing with me again. When the lights flicker back on, Lindsey stands beside the fireplace. “I want to thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You should thank Flora, though. She did everything.”
She nods. “Already did.”
“Happy birthday. Are you having fun?”
She laughs. In the corner, a small mountain of presents has gathered, including a giant teddy bear—courtesy of Jake and Dylan—with a tag that reads From Your Second and Third Brothers, a handmade wreath woven with faux flowers and silk ribbons from her freshman-year friends, and stacks of books and enough pastel stationery to last her all four years of high school.
“This is much better than Craigslist llama.”
“Told ya. The best revenge is moving on.”
“Sure. Look, listen carefully, because I’m never going to say this again for the rest of my life.” She takes a deep breath, her eyes on the silver ornaments hanging on the fake tree. “You’re a great brother, and I love you.”
“I disagree. You’ll probably say it again many, many more times in the future.”
She giggles. “Hey, wanna know what my birthday wish is?”
“Find another boyfriend and get married before Christmas?”
“Ha-ha. No. I wish you and Flora would get back together.”
Through the crowd, Flora leans against a table, her wings fluttering as she chats with a group of guests. Eyes bright, not a single strand of hair out of place.
I want to pull her aside and ask her what the kiss meant, because I never dare assume anything with Flora, but she doesn’t spare me a second of her attention. She’s fully back in event planner mode, circulating around the room to make sure no one’s bored.
When our party dwindles and my parents finally kick everyone out, Flora barely acknowledges me as I walk her to her car. She’s draped a trench coat over her angel costume, but I remember what’s underneath. I can also taste her on my lips.
“Good night.” She lays a hand on her car door handle, and it unlocks automatically. “I hope you had fun.”
“I did. Thanks again. None of this would’ve happened without you.”
She offers a cool smile. “You’re welcome.”
My heart hammers. What happened in my room, anyway? I knew exactly what her wish would do to me. It would give me hope, and the smallest sliver of it was all it took for me to fall completely. “You wasted one wish tonight.”
“I don’t think so.”
I scratch at my palm, my nails digging in. “I would kiss you even without the wish.”
Her eyebrows rise, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks, like palm tree leaves on sand. “You like my costume that much, huh?”
I swallow hard. “I like it, but the truth is . . . I like you.”
I said it, finally. Once the words are out, there’s no turning back. She’ll have complete control over me. “Flora, I really like you. You know, that kind of like.”
These were the words she’d once said to me.
Now the roles are reversed, and with the confession out there, it feels like something cracked open.
With no alcohol in me to bolster my confidence, my body can’t decide whether to flee or stay.
Every beat of silence stretches, and I brace for whatever comes next.
She’s hurt me before. She can do it again, easily.
Her eyes stay on my face for a minute before she lets out a peal of laughter. “Who doesn’t?”
I stand rooted to the ground. Flora’s up-front but never cruel.
“Honey, are you ready to go?” Madison pulls up in her car and yells out of the window.
Flora whips around to wave. “Yeah, in a sec.” She gets in her car, but her gaze lingers on me through the window. Then she rolls it down halfway and asks, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know. I like you but I’m also afraid of you.”
“Afraid of what?”
That you’ll hurt me. But I don’t say it, because there’s nothing in her eyes I recognize. This can’t be the same girl who wrapped her arms around my neck earlier, kissing me like she meant it. I was so sure there was a connection. “I don’t understand. Did I imagine everything?”
“What did you imagine?” There’s a hardness in her that seems to feed on my humiliation.
“I thought the past few weeks meant something to you too. It felt like we were getting closer, and I thought—maybe I’m wrong—but I thought you might . . . you might feel the same way.”
Her expression remains blank. I bite my lip and wait, knowing she isn’t going to grant me a good night’s sleep. Her silence isn’t the good kind, and with each passing second, the heat of mortification rises more in my chest.
What did I do wrong? Please, just tell me.
But I have to let her off the hook. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m not asking for anything. I just want you to know how I feel.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t comfort me. “Good night, Sean. Get some sleep.”
Then she speeds off into the night. The party isn’t the only thing that’s ended tonight.
* * *
Being ignored by Flora is somehow worse than breaking up with her a year ago.
Back then it was ripping off a bandage with brutal force.
This time, it’s a dull ache that sinks into my bones.
I tried talking to her all week after the party, but she radiates an air of icy indifference. Every text I send is left on Read.
Since she stops sitting with me in our corner at lunch, I’ve been joining Josie instead.
“J, hypothetically, if I’d been flirting with a girl, and after we kissed and I told her I liked her, she laughed and started avoiding me, that means I should back off, right?”
She stops in the middle of peeling open her sandwich wrapper. “Sean Everett Foster, you’re a horrible friend. You don’t tell me anything!”
“Come on, I’m telling you now.”
“I’m not helping unless you tell me all the details. You only talk to me when you need someone to play live at your party.”
“That’s not true. I talk to you when I need to borrow money too.”
“Is it Flora?” She squints at me. “It’s Flora.”
I shrug.
“I knew it!” Josie slams her hand on the table before taking a bite of her sandwich. “Wait, hold up. A lot of things are starting to make sense. No wonder it’s been eternal sunshine in Floraland lately.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s chirpy all the time. I thought it was because she liked planning the party, but now I get it. She was planning it with you. Tell me the situation one more time. Don’t leave anything out.”
I tell her everything I can think of, with her interrupting every two sentences. “She says she was only talking to me because we were working on our history presentation and Lindsey’s party. Now that they’re over, she has no reason to ‘desperately hunt me down for conversations.’”
“I have a pretty good idea what this is about.” For some reason Josie thinks she knows so much more about relationships than I do. “She needs more reassurance because you were horrible to her.”
“What?” I draw a sharp breath. “What have I ever done to her?”
“You were so hard on her. You broke up with her after she threw one tantrum. She was devastated! That relationship was pretty one-sided if you ask me. You took her for granted.”
“You don’t know the whole story, J.”
“Yep, and why do you think that is?” She jabs a finger into my shoulder.
“Anyway, at the time, it felt like the right decision, but now I’m not sure anymore. I was—am—crazy about Flora.”
Josie leans back, taking her time with her sandwich.
When she puts it down, she looks at me, all wise and profound.
“Flora said she loved throwing this party, but let’s face it, she has better things to do than asking freshmen for help or visiting your neighbors.
She did all that to make out with you in an angel costume?
She told us you’re the best kisser ever, but surely you can’t be that good. ”
The memories play themselves like a slideshow.
Flora sitting in front of the laptop carefully reviewing the guest list. Picking branches with me, studying the alignment to make sure they were perfect.
Staying for dinner and cleaning up with me.
Calling me at midnight to confirm we could shut down the power in my house.
Begging people to stay sober. Kissing me the way she did, like she refused to let me go.
“Dude, you’re so clueless, no way you can survive in the dating jungle without me,” Josie says. “I should start charging for relationship consultation.”
“But why’s she acting like this now?”
“She wants to feel special too. When have you ever made an effort?” She crumbles her carton of orange juice, folding it into a neat square.
“She chose you, and all you did was . . . agree. Not to mention you broke up with her the moment it got a little bit hard—for you. And now, after everything, after she threw you the party of the century, you were like ‘I like you but I don’t know and I’m not asking anything.
’ Do you expect her to take it from there again?
Maybe show more determination and less hesitancy, not act like you’re waiting for her to convince you? ”
“Maybe I pushed her away.”
“Exactly. You need to show her you’re committed. Make your intentions clear. Even though you’ve never chased a girl in your life.”
A shadow falls over us. Dylan is at our table, and as his usual way of greeting Josie, he smacks her over the head. She glares at him. The three of us have been in school together since first grade, and some things never change. Jake appears a second later, pulling up a chair.
“Last time I checked, Flora was clinging to you like a sloth in a rainforest tree, but now she’s all the way over there.” Jake points across the room with his chin. “Did you two get into a fight?”
“Something like that,” I say. “But I’m going to fix it.”
“Give her flowers.” Dylan is always eager to offer his unsolicited advice. “I give Syd flowers whenever I mess up.”
“She’ll be opening up a florist shop any day,” Josie says.
Jake bites into his burger. “Write her a poem. I can even let you borrow one of mine. Roses are red, violets are blue, forget about poetry, let’s just screw.”
“Roses are red, violets are blue, Flora’s mad at you, what are you gonna do?” Dylan adds.
“Better fix this fast before she finds someone new.” Jake’s on a roll now.
Josie presses her lips together. “Surely you can do better than that?”