The Heartbroken - S01 E29

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E29

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 29

*CONTINUES*

For the record, he did

s--k at it.

“Come on, Evans. I don’t

want to stay at my

house, you don’t want

to stay at yours either.

Let’s go have some

fun.”

“Your idea of fun scares

me, Everett.” I crossed

my arms over my

chest.

“Well, you scared

enough to actually pass

up on this?”

I felt my lips twitching

to a smile, but I fought

hard to keep a straight

face.

“I”—he smiled at

looked triumphant

—“saw that.”

Rolling my eyes, I finally

conceded. “I’m only

saying yes because I

don’t want to stay

here, and definitely not

because of you. As a

matter of fact, I’d do

better if you’re out of

the equation.”

His hands flew to his

chest as he made a

dramatic, greatoy

exaggerated hurt

expression. “I am

wounded, Evans. Me,

out of the equation?

Now, now, Kyla.” He

dropped the mock-hurt

look, which was quickly

replaced with his one-

cornered smile. “Where

would be the fun in

that?”

—

You would be shocked

to find that in the

fifteen minutes I

needed for a shower,

Seth had finished

preparing all the

“necessities” (as he had

called them) for the

day. I swear he could

compete with Martha

Stewart with a video

entitled How to:

Fifteen-Minute Picnic

Basket!

I would have teased

him about it as I used a

towel to dry the tips of

my hair. Before I took

my shower, he asked

me permission to do

some things for the

preparation and that he

might need to use our

kitchen. I told him that

he could go ahead, as

long as our house

doesn’t burn down—or

worse. Never did I

expect to find myself

staring at a very

excited Seth Everett

holding a picnic basket

with one hand as I got

out of the bathroom.

“What? Our classmates

do know that we

agreed on a picnic,” he

said. “I couldn’t find

blankets, though. I

mean, I didn’t want

to…”

“A picnic?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A

picnic.”

I was about to say

something in response,

but I clamped my

mouth shut, realizing

arguing with him

wouldn’t lead anywhere.

“Fine, whatever,” I cut

him off before he could

“defend his case.”

“Oh, I also talked to

your neighbor! Good old

Miss Franny, bless her

heart,” he said.

My eyes snapped to his.

“What? Did you just

alienate my seventy-

two year-old neighbor?

Don’t tell me you tried a

move on her?” My head

snapped to his direction.

“Oh my god, Seth, not

Miss Franny! She’s

seventy-two and—god!

She’s probably

traumatized to—”

“Hey, whoa, whoa,

chill.” He held up two

hands, the universal

sign of surrender. “First

off, how many times

do you have to stab my

soft, soft heart? I can’t

believe you actually

came to that conclusion.

Don’t get your panties

in a twist. I only noticed

the bikes in the

driveway. I asked her if

I could borrow them.

That’s it, okay?” He

shrugged. “Now, is that

jealousy I hear? Is my

three-month girlfriend

jealous of dear Miss

Franny?”

“Go f--k yourself,” I

muttered. “And

seriously? We’re riding

bikes?”

He grinned. “A bike.”

“What?”

“We’ll ride one bike.

Unfortunately, Miss

Franny’s bikes are

broken, and only one of

them actually work.