The Trouble With Flirting by Rachel Morgan Page A

she saw something that said, ‘Please can I meet you.’” I stare at my tea for a while, then sip it. “Imagine if she’d just thought it was spam and hadn’t opened it. Everything would still be fine.”
    Adam scoops his fried egg onto a piece of toast, turns the stove off, and sits down. “I’m guessing the email was from your … half-sister.”
    My eyes flick up to his. “It’s weird saying it, right?”
    “Very.”
    I take a deep breath. “Yes, it was from her. She explained who she was and how her mother had always refused to tell her anything about her father, but that she’d finally found out who he was. Dad hadn’t replied to the email. I guess he just deleted it. Mom almost thought it was one of those hoax emails, but the girl wasn’t asking for money. She was asking to meet. So Mom confronted Dad about it, and that’s how it all came out.”
    “Your poor mom,” Adam says quietly. “It must have been such a shock.”
    I scoop more peanut butter from the jar and nibble on it. “She said she never suspected a thing. Never doubted his loyalty. Never believed he could lie to her so convincingly.” I lick the spoon clean. “Part of me is really mad at this girl for sending the email. If she had no interest in meeting Dad, the affair would probably have stayed a secret forever and we’d all be happy.”
    “And the other part of you?” Adam asks.
    “The other part of me is … curious,” I admit. “About her. What she’s like. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to think about it now. Um, so where have you been going every morning this past week?” I tap my spoon against the side of my mug. “Every day I woke up and you were already gone. Which was great, since things were awkward between us and I was avoiding you, but where were you?”
    “Gym,” Adam says, swallowing his final mouthful. “With Luke.”
    “Gym? Since when do you go to gym?”
    “Hey, this magnificent body does not maintain itself, you know.”
    I start laughing. I didn’t think I’d be able to laugh today, but here I am laughing at Adam’s apparently magnificent body. “You’re right. Your body has been mind-bogglingly magnificent ever since you got back from America. What exactly were you doing at summer camp? Weightlifting the campers?”
    “Yes. I jogged around every morning with a camper over each shoulder.” His smile slips as his phone dings and he picks it up to check the message. With a frown, he places the phone screen-down on the table.
    “Everything okay?” I ask.
    “Yes.” He smiles. “What are you doing today?”
    “I’m going to a vintage market with Allegra and Courtney. I thought about cancelling, but, you know, then I’d just sit around here thinking about how my father has ruined my family. So … yeah. Want to come with?”
    “I’d rather be draped naked over a beehive.”
    “Still not a fan of markets, huh?”
    “Nope. But … maybe we can do something later? This evening? Unless you have, I don’t know, a date or something.”
    “Nah, that was last night.”
    Surprise colours Adam’s expression. “Really?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh, that guy you said was checking you out in class?”
    I nod, pleased Adam remembers me telling him about Jackson. I thought he tuned out whenever Sarah and I started talking about guys. “Yes, that’s the one. Movie, dinner, and lots of making out.”
    “Uh …”
    “Sorry. Too much info?”
    Adam clears his throat. “Right, so that explains the dress and the hair and everything last night.”
    I twist a golden strand of hair around my finger. “You hate it, don’t you.”
    “What? No, I don’t hate it. I just … liked you as a redhead.”
    I roll my eyes at him. “Gingers aren’t cool. People make jokes about them.”
    “Firstly, so what? Secondly, you’re definitely more of a redhead than a ginger. And thirdly, if red hair wasn’t cool, there wouldn’t be so many celebrities dying their hair that colour. And don’t forget about