Read The Trouble With Flirting for Free Online

heavy. I don’t want to have to lug it around all afternoon, but I’m already late. It would be so incredibly nice of you—”
    “I can’t get in there,” I say, glad I have an easy excuse. I’m not about to be turned into anyone’s personal bellhop. “No key. Sorry.”
    “I could give you mine and you could just run it back to me.” A pause. I don’t jump at the offer. She threads the bag back on her arm. “Guess I’ll have to be even later than I already am.”
    “Sorry,” I say again. “Bye.”
    “There you are. Finally,” Aunt Amelia says when I walk into her workroom. The Sweatshop.
    “I was meeting people.”
    “Were they nice?”
    “Some of them,” I say, and for some reason it’s Alex’s blue eyes and slow smile that I’m seeing as I say that.
    A couple of hours later I think maybe I’m hallucinating—the heat’s gotten to me—because the guy himself is suddenly standing right there in the doorway, trying to get our attention with a cheerfully uncertain “Um . . . hello?”
    Before I can process that he’s maybe actually really there, Amelia looks up and says coldly, “How can we help you?”
    “Sorry to bother you, but Ted—my director—he said maybe we could borrow a few hats for the rest of the afternoon? Hey, Franny.”
    “So you two have met,” Amelia says with an annoying little smile.
    “We went to school together.” I stand up. “I can show him where the hats are, if you want.” I hope I don’t sound too eager.
    She’s back to working at the machine, material bunched up all around her, so she just nods absently. “Don’t give him anything that looks new or expensive. Not if they’re just using them for goofing around.”
    “We’re playing an improv game,” Alex says.
    “Nothing new or expensive,” she repeats. “And I want them back before dinner, clean and brushed. The key’s in the top drawer of my desk, Franny.”
    I get the key and lead Alex out of the Sweatshop and down the hallway to the back of the theater, then outside and along the building to the separate entrance for the basement storage area, which I open with the key. We go inside and head down the narrow stairs. The switch I flick on the way down only connects to one small hanging bulb, but at the bottom I turn on the real lights and we stop and take in the rows and rows of racks and shelves.
    Alex gives a low whistle. “Wow. Impressive.”
    “I know, right? I totally want to explore. Are you in a hurry?”
    “Nah. Your aunt was right—we’re really just goofing around up there.”
    “What do you think of the program so far?” I ask as we start walking again.
    “The first two hours have been magnificent,” he says with a laugh. “Well, there were about three minutes that were kind of boring, but I got through them.”
    “Sorry. Lame question.”
    “No,” he says. “It wasn’t. I was just teasing.” And he smiles his nice smile at me, and my momentary insecurity is gone.
    “Can I show you my favorite costumes?” I ask. “The Restoration ones? They’re incredible.”
    “Definitely.”
    As we walk in the narrow aisle between the racks of labeled clothing, I run my hand lightly along the plastic-covered costumes and say, “So how’d you and your sister both end up here this summer?”
    “Partially through shared interests and partially through nepotism. My uncle is the head of the program.” He gives me a sideways look. “Do you think less of me now that you know I pulled strings to get in?”
    “Hey, I’m only here because of my aunt. Nepotism rules. But are you actually into acting?”
    “I guess. I was Tevye in our school production of Fiddler on the Roof last fall.”
    “That’s a huge role!” My awe is genuine. He hadn’t eventried out for the plays in middle school—I had no idea he could carry a whole show.
    He shrugs dismissively. “I got lucky. I only tried out because Julia said I should, and I wasn’t playing a sport that season.”
    “But you