“That’s just the foundation, Bathroom Girl. We have to work up to larger social gatherings.”
“You’re getting two stars on Yelp.”
He ruffles my hair. It feels unexpectedly sensual, and I swat his hand away as a reflex.
“Better than zero.”
I’ll kill him. “You little?—”
“Time to go,” he says, with a winning grin. I can’t decide if I want to smack or kiss it off his face. He checks his watch. “And just in time.”
“What were you going to do if I said no?” I ask while jiggling the key into my lock.
“Probably typewedding flowersinto Google and hope for the best,” he says from over my shoulder, the very proximity of him making the ground feel unsteady.
Against my better judgment, I laugh.
chapter
eleven
I’ll just say it:I’m grateful Eitan extracted me from my cave of sorrow. It’s a perfect early summer Sunday, my outfit is cute enough to post on Instagram, and I’m feeling about 150% better than I did when I woke up this morning. I even put on lip gloss. Purely for morale reasons. Nothing at all to do with the con artist who dragged me outside.
“You’re sure Pen asked for me, specifically?” I ask Eitan as we cut through a park in Lincoln Square. Something about this still feels surreal. Two weeks ago I was sitting in the corner of a two hundred person reception hall like Baby freakin’ Houseman, and now I’m being personallycollected. I’ve got a Mike’s coffee in hand and it’s possible that everything will work out.
He makes a show of checking his phone. “‘Can you get Ruby on your way? She hasn’t responded to my text and she lives down the street from you,’” he reads out, verbatim.
“That is pretty irrefutable,” I say, mostly to myself.
“Lucky for Pen, you didn’t get too wild last night,” Eitan says, nudging me.
I’ve been out of the dating game so long that it takes me a moment to understand what he means. Once I do, my browsfurrow, unsure if he’s serious. “I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person.”
“Right.” He looks straight ahead. “Let me guess, you’re better than that?”
“I don’t have anything against people who have one-night stands.” I take a long sip of my cold brew. “I’m just not able to separate sex and feelings.”
“BathroomRelationshipGirl,” Eitan says, like this is some important nugget of wisdom. “Regardless, it’s lucky you were free. I’m incapable of telling the difference between flowers.” He points at a rose bush to the left of the sidewalk. “See these? What are they?”
“You seriously don’t know? It’s like the easiest one.”
“Are they peonies?”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”
“Geraniums? I think I’ve heard my mom talk about that one.”
“They’re roses, Moreno.” I glance around and spot hydrangeas on the other side of the sidewalk. “What about these?”
He taps his chin. “Baby’s breath,” he says, all too confident. “That sounds right.”
“Why is Penelope having the world’s worst botanist come to her florist appointment anyway?”
“She wants to test the flowers against Josh’s eyes.” Eitan pauses to give me a weighted look. “And I promised Josh that anything he needed to do, I’d do with him.”
“You guys are really close,” I say, managing not to sound too jealous.
“He’s been my best friend since fifth grade. We sat next to each other in Hebrew school, and the rest is history.”
