Free The Trouble With Flirting by Rachel Morgan Page A

Another attempt to make him laugh.
    Another fail.
    “And did you know it was your turn to do the grocery shopping this weekend? Luke ended up doing it yesterday because there was hardly anything left in the fridge.”
    “Oh, shoot, really? I totally forgot.” I think of the shopping schedule stuck to the fridge. The shopping schedule I haven’t looked at since we sat with our mothers and drew it up.
    Adam crosses his arms. Still no trace of a smile on his face. “Real life getting too much for you, princess?”
    “EXCUSE ME?”
    “You heard me,” he says, his voice raised. “I know you’ve spent your entire life inside Chateau Zimbali, but it’s time to join the real world. This only works if we all take responsibility, okay? We all do the cleaning, we all do the laundry, we all do the shopping. We all contribute .”
    “I KNOW. I said I was sorry, okay? I forgot about the shopping. I’ll pay Luke back for whatever he bought yesterday. Jeez, what is wrong with you?” I pull off the jersey and throw it at him. “I wear one piece of your clothing and suddenly you’re yelling at me about everything I’m doing wrong. You could just talk to me instead, okay?”
    His fingers clench around the jersey. “What is wrong with me?” he repeats. “What is wrong with me? You walk into my room wearing my clothes while I’m having a video chat with my girlfriend , and then I have to spend the remainder of our conversation trying to convince her that there’s nothing going on between you and me. That is what’s wrong with me right now.”
    I stare at him, letting the ridiculous words sink in. “What? Seriously?”
    “Yes.”
    “She honestly thought there might be something going on between us?”
    “Yes.”
    I let out a faint laugh. “That’s insane. Obviously you told her she’s got nothing to worry about, right?”
    “Obviously. But she’s there, and you’re here, and she isn’t exactly happy about that.”
    “Yeah, but …” I don’t see what the problem is. “Doesn’t she know you’re, like, a thousand percent committed to her?”
    Adam shuts his eyes and sighs. “Just don’t wear my clothes again.” He turns and walks back to his room, the jersey bunched in his hand. He closes his door.
    I blink back tears as I head to the laundry/pantry. I open the washing machine lid and take hold of a fistful of wet washing. I pull it out and stare at it, my lower lip starting to shake.
    My white clothes are now blue.

    From: Alivia Howard
    Sent: Sun 9 Feb, 8:14 pm
    To: Carl
    Subject: Dear Carl

    It shouldn’t be this hard to do laundry. Maybe I should just shower with my clothes on, that way they’ll end up clean. Good idea? No? No. I didn’t think so either.

    Real life sucks.
    ___________________________________

Monday, first period. I didn’t have time to straighten my hair, the clothes I’m wearing were hastily half-ironed this morning, and I’ve got glasses on instead of contact lenses. My eyes need a break after staying open until 3 am trying to cover all the work in today’s test. Seriously. How did we manage to get through so much material in only three works?
    I scurry into the lecture theatre two minutes before our test is meant to begin. I half expect my four friends to point at my glasses and shout, “Nerd! Be gone!” Honestly, though, they don’t look in spectacular shape either. Well, except for Charlotte, who has the ability to whisper, text, pass notes, and still know exactly what’s happening in every class. She was most likely getting her beauty sleep at 3 am while the rest of us were studying.
    I slide into a seat at the end of the row beside Allegra. “You guys ready for this thing?” I ask.
    Allegra rubs her eyes. She isn’t wearing any make-up. I’ve never seen her without make-up. “I hope so. I made the mistake of mentioning this test to my parents. They want me to send a photo of the result when I get it back.”
    “A photo?”