Eight Nights of Flirting by Hannah Reynolds

Author:Hannah Reynolds [Reynolds, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2022-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next morning, David plunked down next to me on the sofa where I was eating toasted sourdough slathered with butter. “I think Isaac’s into me.”

“Are you trying to poach my Hanukkah fling?”

He shrugged and picked up a piece of gelt, peeling off one metallic side of the wrapper, then the other. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Wishful thinking, more likely.”

David popped the chocolate coin into his mouth, then chased it with a mouthful of coffee. “A boy can dream. Surprised you’re picking him over Tyler, though.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you go after Tyler, if you think so highly of him.”

“I don’t know,” he mused. “He’s not really my type. He’s too . . . blond.”

“How can someone be too blond?”

“It’s like . . . his hair is just so golden. It’s practically singing the national anthem. You can see the flag glistening in his waves of grain.”

I snorted a laugh. “Okay.”

“And he’s too hot. I couldn’t date someone so hot everyone was obsessed with him, it’d stress me out. Isaac, though—Isaac is attainably hot.”

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

“You know. He feels like a real person. As opposed to, say, a Ken doll.”

“Good morning,” the non–Ken doll object of our conversation said. I started violently.

“Morning.” David sipped his coffee and took in Isaac’s black jeans and black sweater. “You realize you’re not in New York, right? You don’t have to wear all black.”

“David!” Maybe I sucked at flirting, but at least I didn’t insult people’s outfits. “You look very nice,” I told Isaac, then wanted to bury myself beneath a hundred blankets. You look very nice? I both sounded like Grandma and a suck-up, which David’s smirk confirmed. “Ignore David, he’s just jealous he’s not from the city.”

David rolled his eyes. “Only New Yorkers think people from other places are ‘jealous’ of them.”

“Where are you from?” Isaac asked politely.

“San Francisco.”

Isaac lit up. “I grew up near LA.”

This devolved into a classic Name every town in California and share your opinion on it conversation, with an addendum of theoretically-friendly-but-slightly-edged discussion of the differences between NorCal and SoCal and the classic Let’s bond over In-N-Out and the East Coast’s attempt at Mexican food exchange.

“Shira!” Iris ran up to me, interrupting the boys. Thank god. “We need you upstairs. Gabe refuses to practice his part, and if he doesn’t rehearse the scenes with Ethan where they speak in tandem, it’s going to be a mess. And Oliver keeps wandering off, and Noah says he and Abby aren’t going to even be here for half the day—”

“Iris. It’s nine forty-five.”

“So?”

Right. “The triplets are putting on a play,” I told Isaac.

Iris scowled at David. “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

He pointed at me. “Shira’s not upstairs.”

“What’s the play about?” Isaac asked.

“It’s about the Maccabees and Judith,” Iris told him. “And imperialism and assimilation and female empowerment. Oh, and we’re writing in some stuff about renewable energy, for Shira.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Isaac took a step back. “I’ve got some papers I should read.

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