I called Sandra as soon as I got back from dinner.

I knew her usual routine. Judging from the time, she was likely bending forward in a triangle in serenity. She always did yoga at night, stretched out on her purple yoga mat in front of the oil painting Daniel gave to her. She told me that Daniel was amazing and that he painted and photographed equally well.

I seriously doubted that Sandra understood Daniel's abstract painting. She just liked the idea of having a piece of artwork in her room and how sophisticated it made her feel.

Sandra picked up her private line and she sounded impatient already. "Hi."

"Sandy! You're never going to believe this!"

"What? I'm in the middle of-"

"I just got back from a date with Sean!"

"Sean? Sean Foster?"

"No, Sean Connery." What kind of question was that?

"What were you thinking going out with him again?" Sandra asked. I could tell she was instantly enraged.

"It's nothing, really. We were going over the history project, and when we finished I asked him to grab a bite," I said. At the time it happened it just slipped out. I had a good time working with him, and I liked that we could joke again. Sometimes when he said something funny, I'd think of the way I used to throw my arms around him and tickle his neck with my hair. I knew he loved my hair.

"It's still going out, whatever you call it."

I sighed. "But it was fun."

It wasn't like an ordinary, fidgety date though. After all, I had known Sean for so long, yet he wasn't a close friend, not a crush, and not exactly an enemy. He was just an extremely irresistible ex who I knew I should stay away from but somehow couldn't.

It had occurred to me that if I followed my usual flirty dating routine it'd be so out of place, so basically I didn't know how to act because I had no other routine.

"Flora, honey, you need to stop this," Sandra said sternly. "I'm getting really bad vibes. Don't tell me you're starting to like him again."

"I don't like him, in the sense you're suggesting," I said. "But listen to this. At first Sean looked just like he always does, you know...poised...aloof...and I couldn't grasp his thoughts, but later on, I'm confident that he's attracted to me. It's the way he looked at me, Sandy. Like he wants me but he's holding himself back."

She scoffed. "No, Sean's like the tiger in The Life of Pi. Richard Parker, was it? You see in his eyes the reflection of your own emotions. I think you like him and I think it's really, really bad."

"I can tell, okay? For example, he ate everything off my plate. Don't you think it meant something?"

"Of course," she agreed. "It means he's a hungry guy who doesn't care that much about hygiene. I'm sure you've heard of those."

"Come on. Don't you find it adorable? And he looked so happy I could just keep on staring at the way he eats."

"You can get a golden retriever if that's what you're looking for. Seriously, Flora, what is this? What is with this crazy infatuation?"

Yes, what was it with this crazy infatuation? I almost pulled an all-nighter typing our paper and got up extra early to make sure I looked fabulous. All this just to impress him. Why I was doing this I wasn't sure entirely. I told myself it was simply because I didn't want him to underestimate me.

"But we're history partners," I bargained. "We have to spend time together."

"You can keep it professional. Have you forgotten how you were when you broke up?" Sandra's voice rose. "Honey, I know I'm more about tough love and I don't say sweet and useless things to you like Carmen does, but I do care. I don't want to see you crying for him again. Tears are boring."

"I know." I immediately thought of the first few weeks of sleepless nights, as well as the rejection and pain when he started going out with Leslie. Like what we had meant nothing to him. I hated him and how I still couldn't seem to get over him, especially when he was acting cute and sweet again. He was the enemy yet his face was harder to wipe from my brain than a lipstick stain on my Miss Dior lambskin handbag. "Sandy, you don't understand how it feels to be around him," I said, my voice cracking. "Half of me want to jump him, and half of me want to stab him with my chopsticks."

"I'm going to put you on mute now if you don't start talking about something else."

"I can't talk about anything else. I can't even think about anything else." I ran my fingers through my hair savagely in frustration. "I think I'm even trying subconsciously to seduce him. I want him to fall for me again."

"Why in the world would you want that? Sean is tolerable as one of our stupid jock friends, but he's a shitty boyfriend. He'll dump you again the next time you pick a fight with him. Can you honestly be with someone you have to be so careful around?"

Sandra was so right. I could always count on her to tell it like it is. Out of nowhere, a crazy thought formed in my head like lightning. I swear I didn't know where it came from; it was as random as the girl who mysteriously dropped out of the sky in medieval times. "Maybe I can get him to fall for me again so I can dump him."

Sandra was silent for a few long seconds. "You're crazy, and I think you shouldn't mess with him."

"I can never get over him unless I show him how it feels!" The thought was not only getting clearer, it was growing limbs. "I want to make him realize that he can't escape me. I'm back, revengeful and even more powerful than the first episode!"

"Flora, I'll never understand your obsession with him, but I already know how it's all going to play out. You're going to fail miserably, your plan will backfire and bite you, and I'll be stuck listening to your whines. Please don't go there."

"If I were the one walking away I wouldn't be dwelling in self-pity anymore. I need to do something drastic, otherwise I'll never stop thinking of him."

She sighed. "Why? Granted, Sean is pretty cute, but not even George Clooney is worth that kind of trouble."

"George Clooney didn't make me cry and destroy my fun in dating permanently. I still can't develop a halfway decent relationship with anyone since him." I'd be secretly grading the new guy like I was a judge on American Idol. I gave them tiny black marks mentally every time they did something uncool, or in other words, un-Sean-like.

"Are you sure getting even is the only way to get him out of your system?"

"Yes! I need this! The timing is better than ever, too, with Leslie away and all. Sean must be vulnerable now." If he should ever be vulnerable, that is.

"You're nuts, Flora. Getting revenge sounds like something only I would do."

"That's why I need your advice! Fill me in on all your cold-blooded, sneaky, hard-to-get tricks," I pleaded.

Sandra was silent again. I could almost sense the wheel of her brain churning and coughing up evil schemes. "Well, he really is a jerk ending it like that. Revenge is sort of justified," she said finally.

"Right? And if I have a revenge underway, it'll be a constant reminder to myself that I can't fall for him. Otherwise working together with him is very risky."

"I can help you, but it's Sean we're talking about, honey. He's not some inexperienced doormat who let you walk all over him. I seriously doubt that you can maneuver him the way you want to."

"With your help I can."

"I can give you some pointers, but it's up to you to make it work. I say you don't have what it takes," she said.

Challenges were totally my thing. Whenever I was motivated, I was all for it. "Wanna bet?"

"What are we betting?"

"A whole outfit. You can have any set of clothes I used to wear, complete with accessories. If I lose, that is. If I win I want the little black dress you wore last weekend. In your case I'd allow for secondhand."

"Don't worry, if anyone's wearing secondhand it'd be me," Sandra said.

"You're on."

Sandra laughed her evil laugh to signal the end of the conversation. "Making a bet to break someone's heart. Hmmm. It sounds so high school I can't help loving it."

***

I didn't loosen up on my appearance the next day. Or the day after. By Friday when I sat down next to Sandra in the cafeteria, clad tight in my new Versace dress, even I myself began to suspect if I was overdressing. Things with Sean had slowed down to a disappointing halt, and we held an emergency meeting to discuss strategies at our usual seat.

"I know I have to be the one making passes in the beginning," I said, "but he turned down every subtle, non-date-like invitation I came up with. He also twisted my every other hint and made classic sarcastic Sean-Foster-style reply."

"I'm not sure your definition of subtle and hint is the same as everyone else."

"Sandy! I'm being driven straight up a wall."

"I told you," she said without sympathy. "I suggest you forget the whole thing. I want your Paige jeans. You've worn it only once, right?"

"I'm doing everything I possibly can. Usually a guy can get a message by now and take it from here. I can't shake the feeling that he's trying intentionally not to fall for me."

"Well that's logical isn't it? Anybody who's had a dose of you knows you are trouble."

"But the feeling was there! I'm sure of it. If only I could get him alone on a date again..." I closed my mouth when I saw Sean and Janet walking towards us.

"Aren't you a sight to look at these days, Flora," Janet said as she sat down. She put a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. She ate the same stuff everyday with the weird combination of orange juice.

I smiled innocently. "Thank you. I'm really trying to discover what style works on me." Or to be precise, what style worked on him. I turned to Sean expectantly. "What do you think, Sean?"

"I like seeing your outfits, Flora. Keep us entertained," he said lightly as if he was mocking me. I looked down and sucked on my diet coke, feeling a bit injured.

All through lunch Sean pretty much ignored me as he engrossed himself in a conversation with Janet about some indie rock band. Every time I opened my mouth to steer the conversation in the right direction, i.e. me, Sandy would kick me under the table. She had started playing with her phone, and a while later I saw that she texted me.

"Stop acting like you want to have him for lunch! You're so obvious it's like you're holding a banner."

It's not that I wanted to be obvious. I had tried subtle but it didn't work, either. He was even harder to get the second time around. The lunch hour was over before I scored any points with him. Feeling defeated and stupid, I stood up to collect my things when I sensed him looking at me.

"Shall we go now?" he asked.

Yes, praise the lord we still had history together. The class, I mean. Janet had left first, and it was just the two of us. He waited at the table and picked up my lunch tray for me, piling it on top of his.

I smiled up at him. Somehow this casual act of friendliness made me very delighted.

"So I finally met the love of Linda's life," he said. "But it's only because she wants me to drive them to their mini-golf date."

"I reckon you don't approve of him much."

"I suspect I'm one of those guys that think no one is good enough for his sister, but this Sandler character really isn't much of a charmer," he said as we headed toward the history classroom together. "They sat in the backseat whispering and groping each other while I drove in front like a chauffeur. If there's a glass window between us, they would've pulled it shut."

I shook my head. "I'm surprised he didn't grab this chance to suck up to you. If I were dating someone's sister for real, I'd make sure I'm on good terms with the big brother. Maybe ask you pointers on how to get biceps like yours."

"Oh, that's easy. Use crutches," he said, then he smiled with a faint trace of affection. "Only you'd compliment me on my biceps."

This light encouragement was all I needed to go on. "Hey, do you want to work on our history project again? I know I do." He couldn't possibly say no to that.

"Isn't that heartbreakingly moving to hear." He glimpsed at me skeptically.

"I have a bunch of new ideas that I'm just dying to share with you."

"That's what I'm afraid of. But sure, we can meet in the student lounge after school, if you're sure that's what you want to do on a Friday afternoon."

"Actually, I'm thinking we should go to your house. The student lounge closes early and I don't want to be interrupted in the middle of it. It's going to take a long time today, especially when I plan on getting my hands on the props."

"Props?"

"Yes. You know, for the play," I replied with a cheerful smile. "As well as costumes and stage setting."

"Jesus, Flora." He frowned, like he had something bad for lunch. "I was hoping you'd drop the idea, but it looks like you just doubled up on your enthusiasm."

"I told you I was serious about it." We reached the classroom and I waited for him to say yes.

"Well..."

"So can we go to your house after school?"

"Flora," he said disapprovingly.

"Can we?" I held my hand across the door so he couldn't get past. Other students were approaching, and I knew he hated making a scene.

"Fine, my house after school," he said finally, gravely, as if he just agreed to launch a missile targeting Russia.

I giggled and let him in.

***

"Well, you certainly come prepared," Sean said, taking in the huge pile of colorful paper I just dumped on his bedroom floor.

"Yes, I told you this presentation is important to me. We need to start making an armor for you now. Or maybe you want to rent?"

He looked at me like I suffered from leprosy. "Flora, I'm not wearing a costume in history class while I read out those corny lines you've written. No offense, but it sounds like a lousy teen drama."

"But how else are you going to convince people you're a knight unless you are wearing armor and riding on a paper horse?"

"How about I just introduce myself in the beginning?" he said. "Or you can make me a paperboard that says knight."

"But that's really lame." I plopped down on his bed with an unhappy sigh.

"How come you get to be a fashion editor with hip clothes from modern times? That hardly seems fair," he complained good-naturedly.

"Duh, because you don't look like a fashion editor." I put my hands on my hips.

"Okay, but I can have a different occupation. I can be a mechanical engineer."

"Fine, you can fight me for the part of the time traveler, but then you're stuck with all the corny lines. Are you sure you want to leave the part of the history lecture to me?"

He chuckled. "Flora, if this play is your twisted way of getting back at me for being condescending, then you win, okay? I'm willing to go through with this on several conditions." I actually had other, more twisted ways of getting back at him, but I nodded for him to go on. "You can polish our presentation up a little by adding a plot, and some cheesy dialogues can be tolerated, as long as you say it yourself. For example, my doctor says I'm lacking Vitamin U is not coming out of my mouth. Neither is How about going out with someone who doesn't have the plague, for a change?" He smiled at that one, amused.

"For your information, I went through a lot of search to find the best modern and medieval times pickup lines."

"I know, I can tell," he said, "but I'm not saying it. Secondly, I'm not wearing any costumes and I'm certainly not riding a horse. Lastly, I want to cut down on all the lines irrelevant to history to about ten percent, and when it's my turn to talk history, I want enough coverage time. I'm using PowerPoint, by the way."

Sounds about fair to me, I thought. I didn't really expect him to dress up as Don Quixote anyway. "Fine, you can do the serious historic part, while I do what I do best. I'll stand aside looking pretty, watching you with admiration."

He laughed. "That's not what you do best. What you do best is making my life a living hell." He didn't look like a guy in living hell though. "By the way, as a knight of honor, I'm pretty sure sneaking some mysterious girl inside the castle would harm my code of chivalry."

"Yes, intense drama, isn't it?" I shook my head, tsking. "Do you think we can add, like, a kiss scene?" I asked, waiting to see his reaction.

He squinted at me. "You know how I'm always willing to sacrifice for artistic reasons..."

I giggled. I missed flirting with him, and I missed knowing that he only acted like this around me.

***