Tea time with my BFFs usually took place on Sunday afternoons, but with Sean's basketball games interfering, I had to move the schedule around a little. I wasn't placing him before them; it's only because he was busier and I wanted to be available whenever he was free. It made total sense, right?

The girls weren't very impressed with my priorities, however, especially when I suggested baking a cake for our respective boyfriends (and Carmen's scandal which she refused to talk about). They said I was turning boring.

"Do I look like a Stepford wife to you?" Sandra asked.

"You look more like the kind of wife who poisons her husband's tea," I replied truthfully.

Janet informed me that Brian was lactose intolerant and Carmen claimed she didn't have anyone to bake a cake for, but as the sweetheart of this group she didn't mind helping me. In the end they all came, and as Carmen and I tried mixing the butter with sugar, Sandra and Janet watched TV.

It was harder than it looked, creaming the butter, and Sandra wasn't helping by offering snide comments here and there like she was Gordan Ramsay. It started from my lack of ability in the kitchen, to celebrity affairs, and gradually she waded her way through our senior class.

"Sandy," I interrupted when she was in the middle of tearing apart Jenny's new hairstyle. "Do you think we're being mean by secretly making fun of people?"

"Secretly?" Sandra raised an eyebrow. "If Jenny asks me my opinion, I'd say the exact same thing."

"I don't make fun of people," Janet said. "I make observations. I can't promise it's always going to be positive."

"What's with this newly-discovered conscience?" Sandra asked. "You used to blog about how some actresses should openly apologize for the hideous dresses they wore to the Met Gala."

"Well, Sean says..." I trailed off when she rolled her eyes at me. I coughed. "Sean says it's not nice when I laugh at other people, even if I do it behind their backs."

Carmen smiled. It wasn't easy finding someone who shared her opinion, but St Sean never disappointed. "Amen! I've said so many times that if you don't want to be talked about, you shouldn't do that to others either."

"I'm scared when people don't talk about me," Sandra said, running a hand through her hair lazily.

"I got to think the other day if we're a little like Regina George," I said. She was the antagonist in Mean Girls who made a scrapbook out of bitchy comments about everyone. When the book got out and secrets were revealed, a lot of feelings were hurt.

"Of course we're better than Regina George!" Sandra sat up straight, offended. "We know better than to leave behind physical evidence. Besides, we don't lie and stab people in the back."

Carmen nodded. "As Oscar Wilde said, true friends stab you in the front."

"Sandra is the epitome of a true friend," Janet agreed, walking over to check out my progress. She took the whisk from my hand and helped stir in the eggs. As the mixture turned slowly from the color of custard to canary yellow, she said, "Sean really doesn't like to bad-mouth people. Not even about his exes, which is so boring."

"That's not boring," Carmen said, looking at me. "He's kind, and I think he brings out a very good side of you."

I really wasn't sure about that. I knew Sean was genuinely tolerant of people, but I was just keeping my mouth shut. Are you a better person for thinking mean thoughts but not saying it? Or does that make you fake?

I pondered over this as I waited for Sean to show up for dinner. I made a reservation at a very elegant French restaurant, and as minutes crept by, I realized he was late and not picking up his phone.

Sean was never late. His game should be over half an hour ago, and this was just like one of those movies in which the waiter kept coming over to refill water and ask if the girl wanted to order anything else, and as she glanced at her watch, you just knew she'd been stood up and the boyfriend was cheating on her.

Not that Sean would ever cheat on me, but maybe some cheerleader was hitting on him again. When he finally showed up, later than late, I was already standing outside the restaurant, ready to stab him in the front like a real friend.

"Where were you?"

"I'm really sorry," he said, out of breath, and of course he had a legitimate reason. They lost their game and the coach gave them an outrageously long pep talk, during which no one dared to walk away to touch their phones.

He wanted to touch me but I moved away out of reflex. I knew I had no reason to be angry, but I was already angry before he appeared, and the thing with anger is that you can't just tell the brain to snap out of it instantly. Moods can't be switched from heat to cool like air conditioner modes.

"Come on, I'm sorry," he said, a little more tired this time. He glanced at the door. "Can we still eat in there?"

"No, because you're too late and I had to give up our seats," I said through gritted teeth.

He exhaled. "Okay then, let's eat somewhere else. It's just a restaurant."

"It's not just a restaurant. It's really hard to make this reservation." I just spent the entire afternoon baking a banana pound cake for him, and I'd been looking forward to eating somewhere nice for an eternity. We ate at his place all the time and I saw more of his parents than my own. The way Sean didn't care about anything I planned suddenly reminded me of how we fought over his physics test and the beach house a year ago.

And just like that fight, I knew he wasn't wrong. I knew his test was important and so were his basketball games, but it was never about those things.

"Flora, I said I'm sorry. Was I supposed to tell the coach I have to run because my girlfriend will get mad at me?"

He was getting less apologetic and more impatient. I got burned really badly from that fight, but like a phoenix emerging from flames-or Daenerys Targaryen, if you watch Game of Thrones-I had become a wiser, stronger person who was able to see the bigger picture. On the brink of an all-out war, I knew how to make the right choice, and it wasn't slamming the cake on his head like my impulse was telling me to.

"Sean. I know you couldn't call me. I'm not arguing about what you should've done. It's about what you can do right now." I sighed and reached over to hold onto his forearm. "Sometimes I just want you to acknowledge my feelings and say something nice. Be more patient with my pesky teen hormones-"

He didn't let me finish and he was already pulling me in his arms. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're always very patient with me whenever I'm upset," he said, and it was so totally true. I'd always make sure I cheered him up properly, and at that moment I really wanted to award myself with a medal. I was so mature I astonished myself.

As usual we forgave each other and made up right on the spot. I was about to suggest going to some other expensive place when he said, "Can we just go back to my house? I really want to eat my mom's mac and cheese right now."

I wouldn't want to eat my mom's mac and cheese even if she felt like making it. What I really wanted was duck confit, preferably served with pommes sarladaises, but I couldn't say no to Sean when he had that little boy look. We headed back and heated up the leftover from last night, chatted with his family, and when we got to his room he went straight to bed and pulled me in next to him.

"I'm sorry for almost fighting with you earlier," he said.

"Stop apologizing," I said. He looked exhausted, and my heart grew softer than it already was.

"I know I should be more sensitive to your feelings. I want to tell you something though." His eyes turned to me, and they were tender and a little sad. "Sometimes...I need you to say something nice to me too. You're the only one I can turn to for comfort."

This vulnerability. How could I not love him?

"I was in a bad mood too when I met you," he said. "We lost the game today and it's because of me. The coach snapped at everyone but he meant to target me."

"You're too hard on yourself."

"No, it's true. Sometimes I'm off my game, like today, and I don't know why." He sighed. I let him ramble on because I could sense it when he was in a talking mood. "The harder I study, the better grades I get, but playing basketball isn't like that. It seems completely out of my control and I hate that."

"No one can control everything in their life."

He was silent for a second. "Ever since I tore my ACL, I haven't been as good as before. Some days I'm okay, but some days when I'm running, I'd get this sudden fear that my knee would fail me. My doctor suggested reconstruction surgery but I didn't want to go through with it, because if I did I'd have to sit out on senior year. It's very important to me to play this year."

"You want to play with Jake and Dylan."

His eyes widened at my intelligence. "Yes. I can probably play in college...I don't know...but it won't be the same. I feel like I'm dragging them down sometimes though."

"Hey, you're not dragging them down. They want you on the team too."

He nodded.

"Besides, without you, no one would ever want to go watch any of the games." I stroked his face fondly and he smiled. "Even when you don't score, you're still very pretty to look at."

"Thank you, baby."

He closed his eyes, and I watched him with love. I didn't know how I managed to find the last innocent boy on the continent, whose deep dark secret was he liked mommy's comfort food and he wanted to play ball with his buddies. The more I knew Sean the less cool he seemed, which ironically just made him all the more cool. He wasn't the hot king I imagined and he was just Sean, and I couldn't have hoped for a better boyfriend.

Sean used to tuck me into bed, and I liked that the roles were reversed this time. It was only ten p.m., however, and I was disappointed that he was ready to call it a night. Ten p.m. on a weekend night was just a start for my crazy agenda, and I scrolled my phone to look at all the texts and invitations.

There was an especially interesting one from Sarah. She sent me a photo of her and Jess caught in flashlight, at some strange party with balloons and foams floating off in the background. Both their shirts were soaked with what looked like soap water.

Come join us, the text read with a dozen exclamation points behind it.

I glanced over at my adorable boyfriend who was about to fall asleep any second. I leaned down to plant a kiss on his plush lips. "I'll let you rest. I should get going now."

He smiled at me groggily. "Text me when you get home?"

"Sure."

As I stepped into the night, I wanted to step on my gas pedal really hard. The breeze was welcoming, alluring me with a sense of danger, and there were bizarre adventures, unfathomable wonders, fascinating strangers...

...which I would now steer away from. I knew I was going to drive straight home because I didn't want Sean to worry, and I probably partied too hard before him anyway.

But for some reason, as I cruised through the darkness--

I felt really lost.

***

It was a beautiful weekend afternoon and I was having lunch near school with Sandra, who just got out of her meeting with the Prom Committee. I hung out with her because I missed her and I refused to be the kind of girl who forgot her friends once in a relationship, not because Sean was away at a game.

Sandra wore her scowl the way I wore my favorite perfume: we never left home without it, therefore it wasn't alarming to see. However, once she ordered a lasagna, I knew something was up.

"I think our sparks have died," she said, stabbing her fork into the food as if it'd disintegrate the calories. "Me and Daniel."

"How so?"

"Lately he's become really unpredictable. One minute he's full of passion, the next minute he's all distant."

"Are you sure he's not just being an artist?"

She shook her head. "He said he'd call yesterday, and I waited until I fell asleep."

"Why didn't you just call him and ask him what his deal is?"

"I can't. I don't call guys and demand these kinds of things. Once I do that, I lose," she said.

Sandra abided by The Rules religiously, even though that book was published 20 years ago and every copy should be gathered and burned. She never initiated anything and always ended everything first, and her relationship style had always worked out for her before. Guys hung on to her like she was dear life.

"I'm not turning into a nagging wife," she said. "They're supposed to call us all the time and we hang up first. Once the table is turned and we start ordering them to call, it's not the same anymore."

"I call Sean all the time and I don't feel like I'm losing anything."

"Doesn't it make him lazy and stop trying?"

"I think that's just how he is," I said.

She shrugged. "You guys match. You're aggressive like a crocodile and he's a hamster."

"It's amazing how I used to think I like guys who run hot and cold, but now I fully appreciate having a dependable boyfriend who isn't the least bit mysterious. With Sean I just don't need to worry."

"You're the worst listener in the world," Sandra said. "Every time I want to talk to you about something, we end up discussing Sean."

"Sorry." My cheeks flamed. I reminded myself to stop being so self-centered, I mean, Sean-centered, although to be fair Sandra brought up the whole animal thing herself. "So, back to Daniel..."

The door to the restaurant opened and in came Raymond. It was logical he'd stop by here because this place was right next to school. As the Prom King I knew he was just at the meeting too.

I waved at him enthusiastically after he ordered his drink and beckoned for him to join us. Despite the previous Instagram incident, it didn't take very long for Raymond and I to bounce right back. Years of drinking and badmouthing people together made our bond disturbingly hard to break.

"Can you go away, Raymond? I'm too busy to ignore you right now," Sandra's mouth was saying, but her body scooted over slightly so he could sit down next to her.

I was very glad to see him. We weren't hanging out one-on-one, this was a public place instead of my bedroom, and we were neither drinking nor getting high. Check, check, and check. Seeing Ray felt a little like he was my kid who was placed under supervised visitation, but if the Supreme Court/Sean ruled this way then so be it.

"Hail to the queen," Raymond said, glancing at Sandra. "And lo and behold, is that a lasagna? You almost resemble human today."

"Does that bother you?" she snapped.

"I like that you're eating," Raymond said. "No one likes a girl who's on a diet all the time."

"Guys are the most hypocritical thing in the world," Sandra said. "They say they like a girl who eats a burger and wears no makeup, but if you show them a fat and ugly one, they'd beg you to cover up your face and barf up your lunch."

"You're not fat and ugly, Sandra," Raymond said almost fondly. "You're just not very likable."

"I guess I learned it from you."

Raymond grinned like it was a compliment and turned to me. "Congrats on the SAT."

"Thank you," I said modestly. "I worked very hard for it."

"Flora's been very busy studying and turning into Sean," Sandra added.

See? She brought him up herself.

Raymond sucked on his drink, making noises with the straw and looking at me. "Yeah. It's funny. You have a fierce personality and Sean's milder, yet he's putting out your fire."

"No, he isn't! You just don't like him because you think I've been neglecting you."

"No, despite what you may think, I don't have a problem with Sean. I think he needs someone to surgically remove that stick from his ass, but I respect him for helping you with the SAT when I'm sure he had better things to do."

"Sean is tolerable," Sandra said.

Isn't this amazing? Two of my hardest-to-please friends actually approved of him, although they didn't express like normal people did and a bit of translating was always required.

"What I mean is, I think you're changing," Raymond said, "and you were pretty cool the way you were before."

"Come on, I'm still the same person. I'm just Flora version 2.0, with some bugs fixed and a few new functions added. Sean makes me change for the better."

"Isn't he supposed to love you for all the good and bad?" Raymond finished his drink with a burp. Attractive. "Anyway, I have to go. Catch you later."

Sandra's eyes followed him out of the restaurant, then she turned to me. "There's something I want to tell you." She cleared her throat and nodded toward the entrance. "He called me last night. He spent half the time insulting me, then he asked me to the prom."

"Ray? Wow." I raised my eyebrows. "Did you say yes?"

"Of course I didn't! Do you believe his nerves? I still have a boyfriend!"

Interesting choice of words, I thought. Still have a boyfriend.

"Why do you think he asked me? Prom is months away," Sandra said. "I think he just wants to laugh at me once I agree, then he'd say it's a joke and that I'm into him or something."

"Why would you agree? You don't even like him."

"That's right. Of course I don't like him." I could've sworn Sandra just blushed. "Do you remember how he lied and asked me to stop chasing him in front of everyone just to embarrass me? What a jerk. I'd rather go to the prom with the janitor than Raymond Corbett," Sandra said, when the obvious choice was to just go with Daniel, her boyfriend.

"Of course." I nodded wisely.

Sandra shrugged. "Never mind. Do you want to go to the mall later?"

I did, actually. I was in dire need of some new purchases, but I wished to go with Sean. I checked my watch and saw that his game would be over soon. He'd call as soon as he was ready and I'd fly into his arms.

"I...um...I have to see the man you don't want me to mention later," I said.

Sandra rolled her eyes and stabbed harder into her lasagna.

***

"I really feel like spending some money today," I told Sean, wrapping an arm around his waist as we strolled through the mall. "Sometimes it's not even about what I buy. I have these sudden urges and I need to swipe my card for release."

"I can't imagine the pain you poor rich people must go through."

"I know, but we try." I smiled up at him. "I want to buy you something. Please, please, please let me buy you something!"

"I don't want anything."

"How about a leather jacket? You'd look hotter than a thermonuclear fusion reaction!"

He grinned. "I seriously can't keep up with your knowledge in science now."

After a lot of refusing and persuading, of all the things he could've chosen, he picked a bath towel just so I'd stop bugging him. He said it was an intimate gift, and my dirty mind immediately thought of him coming out of the shower. I had to agree it served as a great surrogate when I wasn't around to wrap around him myself.

After he was taken care of, I started picking out my own things. I laid down a bright yellow sundress gingerly, setting it apart from the rest of the clothes I threw over the counter.