Landline by Rainbow Rowell Read Free Book Online Page B

Dawn’s cockatiel. He’s quite a bird.”
    “Maybe you could just tell him that I called.”
    Margaret was quiet for a few seconds and then—“Oh, you mean Neal.”
    “I do. Yeah.”
    “Sure, of course, Georgie. I’ll tell him.”
    “Thanks, Margaret. Tell him to call me back anytime.”
    “Sure. Oh, wait, before you go—Merry Christmas, Georgie! I hope your new show gets picked up.”
    Georgie paused. And remembered that she really did like Neal’s mom. “Thanks, Margaret. Merry Christmas. Hug those girls for me.”
    “Georgie, wait, how do I hang up on you?”
    “I’ll hang up on you. That’ll take care of it.”
    “Okay, thanks.”
    “I’m hanging up now, Margaret. Merry Christmas.”
     
    “That’s funny, right?” Seth asked, then repeated a joke for the fourth time. “Is it funny? Or is it just weird?”
    Georgie wasn’t sure. She was having a hard time staying focused.
    “I need a break,” Scotty said. “I can’t even see straight.”
    “Push through it,” Seth ordered. “This is where the magic happens.”
    “This is where I go get frozen yogurt.”
    “All you do is eat. You eat, then you start thinking about the next thing you’re going to eat.”
    “Eating is the only thing that breaks the monotony,” Scotty said.
    Seth’s eyebrows shot up. “This isn’t monotony. This is the fucking dream.”
    “It will be,” Scotty said. “When I have some yogurt.”
    “Georgie. Tell him. No frozen yogurt until he says something funny.”
    Georgie was slouched down in her chair with her feet up on the table and her eyes closed. “Can’t talk. Too much magic happening.”
    “Do you want frozen yogurt, Georgie?” Scotty asked from the door.
    “No, thanks.”
    She heard the door close. Then felt a pen bounce off her shoulder.
    “You should take a nap,” Seth said.
    “Hmmm.”
    “We need a napping couch. Passing Time is going to have a napping couch. Remember the couch at The Spoon ? That was a first-rate napping couch.”
    Georgie remembered. It was gray velvet and worn smooth on the cushions. If Georgie was sitting on it, Seth would sit down right beside her, even if there was plenty of room. Even if there was no room at all. He liked to rest his head in her lap or on her shoulder. If he didn’t have a girlfriend, she’d let him. (He almost always had a girlfriend.)
    Seth was a relentless flirt. Even with Georgie—maybe especially with Georgie.
    For the first few months after they met, she found all the attention thrilling. And then—when she realized that Seth flirted with everyone, and that he was usually actively chasing another girl—it was heart-breaking.
    And then it was just noise. Like his talking. Like his humming. Georgie liked it, even when she wasn’t paying attention. Sitting on the napping couch, Seth’s head on her shoulder, his wavy cherrywood hair tickling her ear . . .
    They were sprawled out on the napping couch the second time Georgie saw Neal. Seth had a girlfriend at the time—leggy, cheekbony, actressy—so he was supporting his own head. Georgie stuck her elbow in his ribs. “There he is again.”
    “Ow. Who?”
    “The cartoonist,” she said.
    “The hobbit?”
    “I’m going to go introduce myself.”
    “Why?”
    “Because we work together,” Georgie said. “It’s what people do.”
    “He doesn’t work here. He just turns in his cartoons here.”
    “I’m going to introduce myself. And tell him how much I like his work.”
    “You’ll wish you hadn’t,” Seth warned. “He’s a scowler. He’s the least friendly hobbit in the Shire.”
    “Stop talking Tolkien at me. All I know is ‘Frodo lives.’”
    Seth laid his head on her shoulder.
    Georgie shrugged him off. “I’m going. To introduce myself.” She got off the couch.
    “Fine,” he moped. “I hope you’re very happy together. Cute little hobbit couple with lots of roly-poly hobbit babies.”
    Georgie turned back to him, but didn’t stop walking away. “I’m not