I was still in a daze when Flora pulled onto my street.

"You are dropping me off already?" The dismay was hard to miss in my tone. The sun hadn't even set yet and I assumed we would at least have dinner together, and after our previous conversation I really didn't want to spend one minute away from her. I felt like we had to make up for lost time.

"Yeah, I don't want to be late for my next steamy date," Flora deadpanned and I groaned.

"Please don't joke about dating other people."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now even joking is off-limits? You are even more possessive the second time around." She smiled. "I still find it pretty sexy."

With a signature abrupt halt, she pulled her car to a stop in front of my house. "Actually, I'm not done with you yet. I just need you to use your car. I have this planned yesterday to remind you of the good times we had, in the hopes that you will like me more. It seems a little unnecessary now but we might as well go through with it."

I gazed at her puzzled.

She winked and smiled slyly like she was an undercover secret agent. "There's an envelope in the glove compartment. Take it."

"Okay..." I clicked it open and found a white envelope among the mass of speeding tickets and gum wrappers.

"Right. Don't open it until I'm gone. And here's the emergency number." She dug out a marker pen from her purse and scribbled a line of phone number on my forearm. "Don't dial unless it's an absolute emergency."

I looked at her in alarm. "This isn't going to get me arrested, is it?"

"Well, if you run fast enough..." she trailed off and laughed. "Kidding! Now get out."

She gave me a quick kiss and shoved me out of her car, then she sped away without further explanation. I was left in the dust gaping after her. I would never be able to follow up on Flora's spontaneous actions, I thought.

I tore open the envelope and found a note inside.

Where did we go the one time we cut class?

Was this some kind of treasure hunt? I was amused. Flora could manipulate me like a con-artist, but at heart she had a certain child-like innocence.

The place we went was the little garden near the school. Flora had come into my German class that day and faked a note from the principal, asking to see me right away. It was so obvious I just about died in my seat, and everyone else knew too because we were the newest couple. But Mrs. Kinston had bought it.

German was my weakest subject, and Flora thought she was doing me a favor. Instead of working harder, her way to deal with it was to skip it altogether.

"You have no motivation," she said, leading me away from school. Her hand was clasped tight in mine. "We need to find you a German mistress fast."

"You are so much work I can't even begin to think of a mistress, let alone a German-speaking one," I said.

Flora took it as a compliment and grinned. She led me to a broken fence behind the library and told me it was the only place to go without being noticed. I bet some other guy showed her that.

We had decided to take a walk in the botanic garden nearby, but neither of us was really concentrating on flowers. We found an isolated bench in the shades, hard to see if you didn't look carefully, and she lay on my lap as she propped her feet on one arm of the bench. It was one of the warmer days and the air was filled with the crisp scent of grass. The clouds up above were frozen still like they were painted on. My eyes skidded over a few fallen acorns under the tree and went back to her face.

Flora was squinting up at the sun, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks like the ones of palm tree leaves on the sand. Her face was basked in the golden glow, the very definition of beauty. Her hazel eyes fell on me.

"Sing me a song," she said.

"I really can't sing," I protested immediately. "You will regret it."

She smiled. "Try me."

She insisted and I obliged. I very unwillingly sang her one of Janet's creation. It was about a bird skipping around in the wet winter, looking for a warm branch to settle, until it finally found the one branch blossoming with white camellias. It stopped flying, and at that moment I suddenly understood the lyrics.

Flora was the very reason that made me want to settle, although she was a camellia with a Chanel logo. She didn't let me finish the song, though, as she held up two fingers and lay them gently against my lips.

"Okay, Sean. You proved your point."

"Hey, I'm really getting in the mood!"

She giggled. "You really can't sing and you are completely off tune. It's supposed to go like this." She started singing, and I let her finish the chorus before interrupting.

"Flora, you really can't sing either." I bent down and shut her up by placing my mouth on hers. Kissing we were good at and we stuck to it. Singing was out of our leagues. By the time we were walking back to school, we were both laughing uncontrollably, giddy about the fact that we could be bad at something together.

I started my car and drove toward that direction.

***

I found another note stuck to the very bench we had sat on.

We once shared the passion and power of true literature...

It was an easy one, because Flora seldom read anything besides Vogue unless she absolutely had to, namely being forced in English.

The book was A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. Flora begged me to read it with her, and I guess it was kind of romantic in an unconventional way. She wanted us to take turns reading it and tell each other about it on the phone before bed.

I read the majority of it, and when it was her turn to dictate her chapter she always did it in such a messy way with vague descriptions like "that lawyer dude" as well as a lot of her own comments, while I took my job seriously. I even read some of the notable quotes to her, but she would always yawn and accuse me of providing too many details.

"Hurry up and tell me if anyone died in this chapter," she would say, as if we were watching an episode of Game of Thrones.

But in the end, when I was on the final chapter, Flora grew quiet. "That was an amazing story," she had said softly when I finished. "Thank you."

"I didn't write it, Dickens did."

"Yes, but you showed it to me. You are the one who told me this story, with a tender and faltering voice," she had begun quoting dramatically in a stage whisper. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done...oh Sean. I think it's a beautiful thing that we learned about this epic love story together, don't you think?"

"Yeah. It sure beats all the soap operas you forced me to watch with you."

She had sighed wistfully. "I'm really happy we shared this. And now I must go to sleep. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known..."

***

The note stuck inside the copy in the local library said, the flavor we invented together.

There was a muffin shop on the side of a street near her house. It was more like a muffin stand than a shop, to be exact, because it was really small with no seats. The owner was an elderly Irish woman who was very gentle and always welcomed new muffin ideas.

We used to go there as a regular stop before a date, and one of those days Flora came up with a flavor. Marshmallow with fudge with "real bits of apple instead of some crummy brand of applesauce". Surprisingly, the shop owner liked the idea. She had offered to name the muffin after Flora, who refused politely. After we left she had informed me in a snobby manner that she accepted no less than a bag or at least some perfume to be named after her.

Now I pushed open the door and was instantly greeted with the familiar smell of freshly baked muffins. The aroma of butter and sugar hugged me in a warm embrace. The same woman stood behind the counter and smiled at me, a look of recognition springing into her eyes.

"You haven't been here for quite a while," she observed. Since we broke up I really hadn't felt like going near Flora's part of the city.

I asked for two of the muffins, and as she wrapped them she winked and said, "The next question is worst double date ever."

I felt really apologetic she had to take part in this game and thanked her in embarrassment.

When I sat down in my car, I opened the brown paper bag carefully like unwrapping the blanket covering a baby. I took a bite into our muffin, chewed, and missed Flora acutely.

***

"I think it's time we go on a double date," Flora had declared one day. This was just one of the many examples that showed she couldn't be happy with just me, as if the idea of me alone was too dry for her to swallow and she had to wash it down with some other stimulating factor.

I really had no interest for a double date but I gave in as always. "Who do you want to double date with? Sandy?"

"Talk art to Daniel all night and pretend to be interested? No thanks."

"I don't really want to deal with Sandy's truckload of attitude problem on a date either." I actually liked Sandra just fine, but it had become a private joke between Flora and me to complain about her whenever we could. I knew deep down Flora loved her to pieces.

"Maybe we can date Janet and Brian," she suggested.

"No...Janet deserves some quality time with him alone. She hardly ever sees him."

"We will date your friends then. Jake is pretty fun. Ask him to bring whoever he is seeing at the moment."

"Jake doesn't do girlfriends. He only does hookups, and he wouldn't want to incorporate those into his life."

"That's true," Flora agreed. "He wouldn't want them to find out any more about him than the underwear he wears." She chewed on her bottom lip then slapped her palm down on my thigh. "Dylan and Sydney. It's perfect!"

Sydney went to cheerleading practices and she and Flora were sort of close, but I was skeptical. That couple were too intense for my taste. "But Sydney is crazy."

"I thought you were fond of crazy."

"Your type of crazy," I corrected. "You're crazy fun but she's crazy scary."

She tsked. "You just don't give people a chance, Sean."

So I agreed. For the first part of the date we went to a dimly-lit restaurant, where we sat down at one of the corner booths in a semi-circle.

I had known Dylan for a very long time and I had caught him at some of his more private moments, such as him crying at his dad's funeral, or once when he was so livid he trashed everything in his room because he thought he and Sydney were never getting back together again (yeah right). However, watching him stick his tongue down her throat two feet away from me was something I could live without. I guess some extent of PDA was tolerable in movie theaters or in the park, but when it was piled on my dinner table along with roasted ribs it was just repulsive.

"This is what you want?" I raised my eyebrows at Flora, who didn't seem to mind one bit. "Dinner with porn?"

She shrugged innocently. "Do you want to fight porn with porn?"

I hoped she didn't decide to be competitive at that moment. I was afraid Flora would want to prove that we were the better couple or that we were more into each other, which judging from the situation we were losing points rapidly.

I had wanted to cut the date short, but after the two disentangled from each other, they suggested hanging out more at a coffee shop to play board games. We ordered hot chocolates and absently played a game of Monopoly as we chatted. They were people I was familiar with and we were comfortable around one another. The date was taking a good turn.

"When is the moment that you two decided to be together?" Flora interrogated with interest after we had covered all the basic topics like school and movies.

Must be Friday the 13th, I bit back my remark.

"Come on, the moment I saw her, of course," Dylan said. "She's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Sydney smiled smugly before sipping quietly on her drink.

"Why didn't you have that kind of resolve?" Flora pouted at me, pretending to be insulted.

"I'm really shy," I said.

She chuckled and turned back to them. "So what's the first thing that caught your eye when you saw her?"

Her boobs, I thought.

"Her eyes," Dylan said. "And as soon as I noticed she wasn't looking at my direction, I checked out her boobs."

For some reason they decided that was a good opening line for another kiss that followed. At least this time they kept it short and snappy.

"We were stranded in the rain once in a hut on the beach," Sydney said after she came up for air. "Dylan had his guitar with him and he sang to me until the rain stopped. That's when I decided."

Flora sighed in appreciation. "That's really dreamy. You are more romantic than you look, Dill."

"Wow, winning her over with your voice," I teased. "You must have picked up dating tips from The Little Mermaid."

Dylan glanced at me. "I'm curious where you pick up yours. It's so nonexistent."

"Probably The Lion King," Flora answered for me. "Between us it's more like basic animal instinct." Which really wasn't far from the truth.

"Yeah, physical attraction is a powerful thing." I smiled at Flora.

Sydney nodded, running a hand through her wavy black curls. Double dates were definitely designed for girls. Dylan and I had no interest in learning about each other's love lives down to the last tiny detail, but the girls were very excited. "Hey, what's the most romantic thing Sean has ever done?"

Flora was caught momentarily off guard by Sydney's question. "Um...he texts me sometimes?"

Sydney smiled, and on seeing that, Flora fished out her phone.

"Sean's texts are very interesting," she said. "He sends me these biology trivia facts and it's really cute. For example..."

"Flora, you don't need to prove it to them," I interrupted.

Dylan leaned forward and placed his palms on the table. "I'm actually intrigued. Do share."

"Here's one. I miss the feel of you against my largest organ," Flora read. When she saw the blank look on Sydney's face, she explained, "Skin, Sydney. It's the skin."

"Well, I know that's not my largest organ." Dylan smirked.

"It's really not as large as you might think." Sydney glared at him in annoyance and he smiled proudly.

"And this one is my favorite," Flora continued. "No two cows have the same Holstein's spot patterns. They're unique like snowflakes and fingerprints." She smiled, her eyes sparkling like the constellation. "And then two minutes later he sent me this one to follow up. You are my Holstein's spot because you are one and only."

Sydney said aww and Dylan groaned. "Dude you are embarrassing."

"It's really cute! What do you call each other in private? Is there a cute little pet name?" Sydney pressed on.

"No...we just call each other baby and handsome, you know, that sort of thing," Flora admitted. I knew as soon as we went home she would nag me about thinking up a more unique and loving name for her. I wondered how she felt about Holstein's spot.

"I think of Justin Bieber every time I hear the word baby," Dylan stated sourly.

"I call Dylan hot chocolate," Sydney supplied and I just about choked on mine. "He is hot and sweet just like it."

I had to stifle a laugh with all my will power. "Thanks for ruining my guilty pleasure in winter."

"That's a good one." Flora nodded, always the supportive friend. "What does Dylan call you?"

"Ah, you don't want to know." Sydney waved a hand. "It's really obscene."

"It's a body organ," Dylan added with an evil smirk.

"You call her Dylan Reyes's brain? That's quite a mouthful," I commented and Flora laughed beside me. She gave me a nudge and a look, and I could tell she thought they had much more sparks than we did.

We played on for a while after dishing out more sexy little secrets from the better couple which was bound to give me nightmares afterwards. Flora blew across her hot chocolate and brought up the subject of our basketball team captain.

"Why do you guys hate Liam Turner?"

"I don't hate him," I objected. "But I'm really looking forward to the day Dill replaces him as captain."

"Well, I hate him. He is a jackass," Dylan said. Liam was one year older than us, a senior then, and he got into a shouting match with Dylan every time we lost.

Jake was the MVP on our team, but he treated the games like he did everything else: a laugh. I got irritated sometimes but I didn't lose my temper much. Dylan, however, took basketball to heart. He would watch videos of previous games over and over until he came up with the perfect strategy, customized for each opposing team.

He and the captain pretty much disagreed on everything and the only thing they had in common was a short-fused temper and the desire to win.

"He gives us a hard time when we don't win and he blames Dylan," I explained. Naturally we took Dylan's side. "For example, he accuses him of playing favorites when he passes to Jake and me."

Dylan exhaled. "I pass to them because they can score, not because they are my best friends."

"Liam is a pretty good player, though," Sydney commented. "He can slam-dunk."

"That's about all he can do," Dylan said darkly. By then a waitress had come to refill water for us, and she was wearing a shirt with a plunging neckline. When she leaned down to pour water the outline of her purple bra was visible. I saw it but Dylan, being a pal, kicked me under the table anyway.

Dylan used to be a serial cheater although he called them mishaps. He had pulled his act together, but he still checked out other girls the same way he checked out Sydney on her first day of school.

Okay, I guess we all look, but he could be a little more tactful because Sydney caught it too. Instead of commenting on this behavior, she went back to our conversation. "Well, even if it's all he can do, that's one thing more than you," she said in a mean tone as she directed it at Dylan, who thirty minutes ago was her hot chocolate.

"Yes, I can't do anything. I'm one thing short from you because I don't know how to use a tampon," he spat out.

"You basically scored two points at the game last Friday," Sydney went on. "If you are plucked from the team that would be the consequence: your team will be two points less."

That was actually quite nasty because Dylan nearly got thrown off the team just recently for getting into a fight defending her. Some guy groped her at a party and Dylan had a couple of drinks. He used to get detention on a regular basis, but he had never broken some guy's nose before.

"Dylan doesn't shoot a lot because he is the point guard," I found myself saying even though I really should just stay out of it. "He is like the quarterback. His contributions are not measured by how many points he scores, but how he creates opportunities for us and initiates attacks."

Sydney rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I don't know what a point guard is, but it sounds like someone who sucks at shooting."