Honeysuckle Love Read Free

flocked to him at lunch, in between class periods, at assemblies. Everyone: popular kids and nerds. Even nobodies. He was the cool, smart, tech guy with actual social skills. It made him monstrously attractive, and even Clara, being the antisocial student she was, couldn’t help but be drawn to him as well. She looked his way on occasion last year, but he never seemed to notice. But then why would he? She wasn’t outgoing and bubbly and on the hunt. She was reserved, preferring to hang back in the shadows and dream.
    “So did your parents drag you here, too?” he asked.
    “Um, yeah,” Clara said. She gave a quick glance at Beatrice whose nod was imperceptible.
    “I’m Beatrice Greenwich, by the way,” she said extending her hand to Evan. “The polite thing to do would have been to ask.”
    Evan laughed as he took her small warm hand in his.
    “Beatrice!” Clara exclaimed mortified.
    “No, she’s right,” Evan said. “And I’m sorry, Beatrice. Can we start over?” he asked as he squeezed her hand gently.
    “I suppose,” she replied, trying for indifference.
    “Alright then,” Evan said, releasing her hand and walking a few feet away from the sisters. He turned on his heel and started towards them again, stopping within inches of Beatrice. “And who might you be?” he asked extending his hand.
    “I might be Bea, but you can call me Beatrice because you haven’t earned the right yet to call me Bea,” Beatrice said. She gave Evan’s hand two hard shakes and then released it.
    “I completely understand,” Evan replied. “Beatrice it is.”
    “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Clara said. She shot Beatrice an exasperated look tinged with anger. Beatrice shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
    “For what?” Evan said still smiling.
    “My sister’s rudeness,” Clara said. “God, she’s so rude.”
    “Am not, Clara,” Beatrice huffed. “Being matter-of-fact is not the same thing as being rude.”
    “It’s a fine line,” Clara said through gritted teeth.
    “How old are you?” Evan asked. He directed the question to Beatrice.
    “I’m ten. How old are you ?”
    “Eighteen, and evidently not as smart as you,” Evan replied.
    “Well, we can compare notes as we get to know each other.” Beatrice looked over at the stage and saw someone walking to the podium. “I think we need to find some seats now,” she suggested, and started walking down the center aisle.
    “Your sister is a handful,” Evan said turning to Clara.
    “You’ve no idea,” Clara responded following Beatrice down the aisle.
    They settled themselves in two seats randomly left open in the middle of a center row, and Clara watched as Evan made his way over to his family. There were four of them: a father, a mother, a younger brother, and him. Picture perfect , Clara thought, and her heart bled the tiniest bit of jealousy, trickling down into her stomach and making it sour.
    She turned her focus to the podium but not before she saw Evan turn around and look at her. She caught his eye; she had to acknowledge him. She smiled and he smiled back. She wanted to keep looking at him, but she was afraid he’d make her do something foolish. She turned to the podium certain that he was still gazing at her. She wondered if she should flip her hair over her shoulder like Beatrice does. She wasn’t good with those things like Beatrice probably because Beatrice did them automatically without knowing how cute she was when she did them. They came naturally to her. But not Clara. She did few things in her life automatically. Every decision was deliberate and controlled. She knew if she flipped her hair it would look awkward like she had thought too long and hard about it resulting in something mechanical and wrong.
    She kept her hands folded in her lap. She fought the urge to look Evan’s way. It was impossible and unfair to sit there knowing he sat a few rows in front of her probably still looking at her. It wasn’t until the