Again, but Better by Christine Riccio Read Free Book Online Page A

really. It’s kinda like a journal, I guess.”
    “Ah, nice, thatsounds like something an author would do.” He comes back into view and sits across from me. “Have you started writing your book yet?” He smiles.
    I blink in surprise, before huffing a laugh. “My book?”
    “I hear authors write those,” he adds, as he picks up his sandwich.
    I laugh again. “One of my goals this semester is actually to start my”—I raise air quotes—“‘great American novel,’ but it’sa pretty daunting task, so we’ll see.”
    “Really? That’s awesome,” he says enthusiastically. “I read some of your stuff last night.” I go still, shock zipping through me as he takes another bite of sandwich.
    That was so fast. What does he think of my stuff? I can’t believe he sat down and read stuff that I wrote. What does he mean, he read my stuff? He read my stuff! He read my stuff!
    “Really?”I squeak. Is it chill to ask which story he read?
    He swallows. “Yeah! Don’t sound so surprised.” There’s laughter in his voice. “How could I possibly resist hitting up FrenchWatermelonNineteen.com? Your stuff was funny. I really enjoyed it.”
    I feel like running in circles.
    “Really?” I say again. Shane, you just said really.
    “The post about your first day here, pointing out all the random differenceslike the walk–don’t walk signs, that was great! And then I read that one about the hermit people from that random island going to McDonald’s for the first time. That was hilarious.” He grins.
    I’m biting my lip while he’s talking, like a young adult book clich é , but it’s the only way to keep my smile level under control. Chill. I’m chill. He read my “The First 8 Hours” post and a short story Iwrote over the holiday break. I really liked both of those!
    “Thanks!” I spurt.
    “We still all going to a pub later for dinner and drinks?” he asks.
    “Um, yeah, I think everyone’s still down.”
    “Nice! Looks like Flat Three is hitting the town tonight, then.”
    I bob my head up and down, “Yup!”
    I want to ask him about a card night. A few moments pass while Pilot eats his sandwich, and I open mycomputer, trying to gather the courage to ask him if he likes to play cards. Why am I afraid to ask him?
    “Do you like to play cards?” I ask quickly.
    Pilot’s eyes light up. “Do I like to play cards?” he says, smiling. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
    I grin and pull my eyebrows together. “Why do people say that when they can just say yes, which is so much faster and less confusing?”
    “You playcards?” He smirks.
    “Yeah, they’re only my favorite—I was thinking about going out and finding a deck so we could have a cards night, maybe tomorrow with everyone?”
    “I’m in. You want help finding that deck?” he asks.
    I blink. “Do you … want to go find one?”
----
    I stride down the sidewalk with Pilot. This is our second walk in three days. Is this a second date? I think this boy likes me. I thinkhe’s feeling what I’m feeling, and I can barely contain the urge to skip down the road.
    It’s still light out as we make our way down fancy-white-sophisticated-buildings lane. I like how the sidewalk on this street is never too crowded like in New York. And when I say never, I of course mean, in the last three days, it hasn’t been too crowded.
    “Okay, so possible suspects in this card case. I’mthinking either Tesco, Waitrose, or Sainsbury, that other grocery store I haven’t seen, but people have talked about. I don’t know where they’ll be if they’re not in a grocery store, so hopefully they’re in a grocery store. Maybe some sort of convenient store?” I’m babbling. I look at Pilot. He’s smiling to himself. “Sorry, I’m really excited about cards…”
    “We’re going to find cards,” he repliesconfidently. “Let’s go to a different area, though, so we get to explore more of the city.”
    “Okay.” I shrug and tuck my hair behind my