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Park Jessica - Flat-Out Love Flat-Out Love

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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Flat-Out Love - Park Jessica - Страница 14


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But worse than how she looked was the undeniable fact that she was alone and quite obviously invisible to her peers. Julie cringed as a boy passed by Celeste, failing to notice or care that he bumped into her elbow as he joined up with a cluster of trendy T-shirt-wearing guys.

Julie beeped the horn and waved, finally getting Celeste’s attention. Celeste scanned the cars and then headed toward the Volvo. She stopped by the passenger door, her eyes wide and her face expressionless.

“Hey, kiddo. Hop in,” Julie said warmly.

Celeste stood still, waiting a moment before she spoke. “Why are you here?” There was a noticeable shake in her voice that Julie couldn’t miss.

“Matt asked me to pick you up today. He is really sorry. I guess he had something important to do at school. Celeste? It’s OK. Flat Finn is with me. He helped get me here because Matt’s directions were dreadful.”

Celeste opened the door and slipped into the seat. “Oh. This is fine.” She turned to Julie. “This really is fine.”

“Good.” Julie pulled the car out to the main road. “So what should we do?”

“What do you mean do? We go home after school.”

“Let’s do something. Come on!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Julie turned up the radio and tapped her fingers on the wheel. “I don’t even know what street I’m on right now. Maybe we’ll get lost and spend the next few hours trying to navigate our way home. We’ll listen to old-school Kelly Clarkson power songs and sing until we lose our voices.”

“That is not a good plan.” Celeste turned and peered into the back of the car. She inhaled deeply, then slowly let the air escape from her lips. “I always just go home.”

Julie took a left turn onto another main road and drove for a few minutes. “Aha!” She pulled the car into the parking lot of a supermarket. “Let’s make dinner tonight. I want to thank your parents for letting me stay at your house. Do you like Italian? I make a mean manicotti.”

“Oh.” Celeste thought for a moment. “That could be acceptable.”

“Acceptable? It’s going to be more than acceptable. Homemade tomato sauce with fresh basil? Ricotta and spinach stuffing? And my secret touch? Cheesy white sauce drizzled over the top. And we can all discuss Italian Gothic architecture or ancient Rome during dinner. I know how you guys like theme nights.”

“Or the Italian Renaissance. Dad likes the Renaissance.”

“You got it.” Julie parked the car and started to get out. But Celeste didn’t move. “Celeste? You coming?”

“Me? No. I should wait in the car. That’s what I do.”

“You don’t go into stores?”

“No.”

“Not ever?”

“No.”

This was unbelievable. Julie tightened her fist around the car keys until they dug painfully in her hand. Somebody had to fix this. She walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. “Well, that’s too bad because FF and I wanted your help picking the best tomatoes.” She flung the blanket off Flat Finn and eased him out of the back. “So I don’t want to hear you complaining about the poor quality of the produce we select.” She slammed the trunk shut, pulled a shopping cart out from the stack next to the car, and stuck the cutout brother into the cart, angled so that his entire top half jutted out.

Celeste flew out of the car. “What are you doing?”

“Shopping. What are you doing?”

“Beginning to have a type of anxiety attack that I would prefer to avoid.e ba

“What else are you doing?”

Celeste pursed her lips together, hiding a smile. “Shopping.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“And do not call him FF. He doesn’t care for abbreviations.”

“Tell him to stop calling me JS and I’ll consider it.”

Chapter 8

Matt set his messenger bag on the stool next to him and sat down at the kitchen counter. He looked at the plate in front of him. “What is this?”

“It’s a gastronomical representation of ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.’” Julie put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you see it? The clear depiction of the struggle for sexual identity as evidenced by the two phallic shapes?”

Matt looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about? It’s manicotti, you nut. What do you think it is?”

“I know that. I was referencing the noticeable absence of takeout cartons. You made dinner?”

“Celeste and I made dinner,” Julie corrected.

“And they did a wonderful job.” Erin swooped into the kitchen and set her wine glass down on the counter. “Thank you again, Julie. It was wonderful. I don’t remember the last time we’ve bothered to cook dinner ourselves. I’m surprised the stove is still working.” She turned to Matt. “You’re home late. How was school? Did your meeting go well?”

Matt nodded as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. Half his food was already gone. “Very good. Sorry I’m home late. And even sorrier that I’ve managed to double my workload by agreeing to be a research assistant.”

“This is with Professor Saunders, correct? He has an excellent reputation, so this is a brilliant opportunity for you.” Erin took a sip of wine.  “I do hear he’s very demanding, Matthew, so you’ll have to be incredibly diligent with your work.”

“I realize that. In fact,” Matt said as he stood up, “I should get upstairs and get to work. I’ll finish dinner up there. Thanks, Julie.” He picked up his plate and started out of the kitchen. “Hey, Julie?” He stopped in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“So things went all right today?”

“Totally fine. I told you that when you called. Both times.”

“OK. Thanks again.”

Julie wiped down the counter and moved to the sink to start washing the pans that hadn’t fit into the dishwasher. Erin took a towel and stood next to her.

“Julie, tell me how your mother is. Until she called me the other day, I hadn’t heard her voice in years. She’s doing well?”

Julie nodded. “Yeah. She still works for her parents’ copier company as the office manager. She seems to like it.” She rinsed a saucepan and handed it to Erin.

“She’s still working for them?” Erin said with surprise. “Bless her, because I could never work for my family. Kate is a better woman than I am.”

“Erin? This might sound weird, but you and my mom seem very different. I have a hard time seeing you two as friends.” In fact, Julie found it impossible to see her mother and Erin hanging out and swapping approaches to socio-economic policies in between classes and dorm parties.

“We were. We roomed together for three out of the four years. We may be different people now, but when we were in college we were probably more alike. Your mother was an excellent student, and it came so naturally to her. Did you know that? She’s very bright. We chose different paths after we graduated, though. You mother and father were already dating, and they got married a year after they graduated. I worked for a few years and then went to law school. I was simply more career-oriented than your mother. Kate chose a path that was comfortable for her. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I’m glad she’s so happy.”

“Did you think she was going to go to law school or something, the way you did?”

“She could have. She certainly had the intellect. It just wasn’t what she wanted. Kate wasn’t interested in graduate school or a more prominent career. She wanted your father, and she wanted the life she got.” Erin paused. “Until… I’m sorry. That was thoughtless.”

“It’s OK. The divorce is the divorce. It happens all the time, so it’s not a big deal.”

“They separated when you were about four or five, is that right?”

Julie nodded.

“Do you see him much?”

“Once or twice a year. After the divorce his career really took off, and he just hasn’t been able to see me as much as he would like. He’s really busy with his job. He comes into town for business sometimes, so I have dinner with him when he can. It’s the nature of his work, I guess. I understand.”