Flirting With Love by Clara Stone

Author:Clara Stone [Stone, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JS Publications, LLC
Published: 2015-03-04T05:00:00+00:00

KEYS CLATTER ON the kitchen countertop, startling me from my thoughts. I look up. Mom slides out of her jacket and places it over the chair.

It’s been less than ten minutes since I shoved the door closed in Hudson’s face, and I’m already halfway done with the batch of ice cream I made earlier. God, I need to break this habit before I die from a major brain freeze. I drop my gaze and dive in for more.

A pint-sized container slides across the table and stops just shy of touching my hand. Mint Chocolate Chip.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling disinterested. God, why does it matter so much, what Hudson thinks? Because really, we’re just flirting with each other for the sake of pranking Hope.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mom says, pulling a chair up beside me, a spoon in her hand.

“No!” I answer, way too quickly.

She grabs the ice cream container and pulls open the top.

I whimper as the smell of mint overwhelms my senses. Seriously, what’s wrong with me? Who in their right mind eats sooo much ice cream and still craves more?

“Here, take a bite.” She pushes the container toward me, knowing that I can’t resist the temptation.

Temptation that’s so decadent. Sweet. Mouth-watering. Like Hudson. An image of him flashes through my mind. I groan. Could I be any more weak and pathetic?

“I don’t mind sharing,” Mom says, offering the spoon. “Unlike someone I know.” She jabs my shoulder with hers.

When I turn to look at her, she smiles sheepishly. I crinkle my nose at her. “It’s your fault I’m as addicted to this stuff as I am. You should’ve never let me eat so much ice cream as a kid.”

She chuckles. “Sure, blame the hand that feeds.”

“Whatever.” I continue to poke at my crappy homemade ice cream.

She scoops another huge chunk of mint chocolaty goodness onto her spoon and casually licks the end of it before asking, “Do you want to tell me why I saw Hudson sitting in the car outside with his head on the steering wheel?”

I look up at her, sharply, as the spoon disappears into her mouth. “He’s still out there?”

She nods. “I drove past him to get into the garage.”

I look over my shoulder, biting down hard on my lower lip. I want to go see if he’s still there. Waiting. But for what?

“Blake,” Mom says.

I return my attention to her.

She places her thumb over my lip, prying it free from the clutches of my teeth. “Did you guys have a fight?”

I nod, then shake my head. Would being pissed off as hell, even if it was one-sided, count as a fight? I sigh, exasperated. “I don’t know.”

She doesn’t say anything. I don’t know why. Mom’s never been one to stay quiet about anything, and yet, here she is. Quiet. Like she knows something I don’t. Is she going to take his side? ‘Cause, if she does, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need her on my side. Telling me that Hudson is a jackass.

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