Part 6 ◎ Chapter 60 The NYC trip

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Sean

"Did you ever love her?"

Flora was curled up next to me on my bed, a glossy mass of hair draped over her back. She was soft, seductive, and sadly in one of her moments where she felt like interrogating me about every sin I had committed during The Separation.

Leslie was her favorite topic of attack and we had gone through it eighteen thousand times already, with me begging for forgiveness at the end of every discussion, without exception.

How does one answer a question like that without betraying either girl? I thought I did but I most likely didn't, yet I felt guilty admitting it. It wasn't even remotely important. Flora already had everything I could offer; she occupied my thoughts, the whole view in front of me, every tender emotion I had, and my future was in her hands, yet she still found it necessary to hunt down my memories with a pitchfork. It was alarming because she was nothing like this before.

She had said Leslie's insecurity was well founded and that she didn't blame her for being less than friendly, especially since the poor girl was misinformed about the cheating issue. She had been sympathetic--because Flora was Flora and she was gracious like that--yet adorably arrogant at the same time. She would jab a finger at my chest and smile cunningly, saying things like, "She was right to be worried. After all, we both know you belong with me", before moving in to grope me.

But that was in the beginning. As time passed, she became increasingly troubled with the fact that it happened at all. She rechewed on my fermented past the way ruminants regurgitate food, analyzing and breaking down events into smaller pieces, and nothing good ever came out of it.

"Baby, come on," I said. "I don't grill you about your ex-boyfriends. It's all in the past and you know I love you."

Flora was far from happy with my answer. "That's because there's nothing to grill about. I was never in love with anyone else the way I'm in love with you right now."

I pushed her hair to one side so I could kiss the back of her neck. "I feel the same way, and the best moments of my life were spent with you."

"Ugh, I don't know what's wrong with me." She grunted. "I know I shouldn't care but I just--"

"Okay." Most of the time I let Flora talk all she wanted, but there were times when measures had to be taken. I covered my mouth on hers so she would shut up.

It worked beautifully for a while. We were kissing and her hands were all over me. I always enjoyed how she wasn't afraid to take charge, and she made it clear how much she liked touching me. Her fingers slid inside my shirt and she said,

"What if she moved back suddenly and bought the house across from you? Would you take her back?"

I bit back a groan of annoyance. First we went over the facts, then came the hypothetical scenario part. "If she threw extravagant parties and bought me jewelries, I might," I said, playing along like we were talking about a scene out of The Great Gatsby.

"You're not taking me seriously."

"Flora."

She flipped a strand of hair off her face and sighed. "Sorry."

I pulled her back in my arms and pecked her again on the lips. "Hey, I'm waiting for you to ask me that burning house question."

I meant it as a joke but Flora seemed to think I was being sarcastic, so she gave me a hostile sidelong glance. I grinned at her.

"Well, answer it." The corner of her mouth hitched up, as if she knew she was being ridiculous too. "Who would you rescue out of a burning house, me or Leslie?"

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