Page 16 of Snapdragon

I get out of the car before Sebastian gets up. I’m wearing a cute little leggings and tank set in bright yellow, covered up by a cozy pastel blue hoodie. My blue sneakers are what have me hopping out before him.

I‘m always wearing some sort of stupid contraption on my feet when we normally have these dates, so it’s nice to be able to hop out before him and set the pace.

I look back to make sure he’s following. I haven’t really looked at him yet, which was definitely a mistake. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, paired with a black hoodie and sneakers. Ugh, why do men have to look so good in sweatpants.

“Race ya!” I call, setting off at a sprint, my ponytail swinging behind me. I need to get away from him before I lose it again.

He easily out-paces me, slipping by before I’ve even started really.

“How about we walk,” he says, looking pained.

I slow my pace to a walk. “Sure,” I say. He really does look in pain. Maybe he has an injury that he doesn’t want to tell me about.

So we walk, hand in hand, while some very obvious paparazzi take photos of us. It’s all so planned and staged, it’s laughable that this is what’s supposed to make us look more genuine.

We’re barely walking for five minutes when we’re told that we’re all good to go. Frank was right, this kind of date was easier.

When we’re settled back in the car, both our phones ding at the same time. I look down to see a text from Frank:

That went well. You’ll be going out again tomorrow night to a club. Monster side of town. Pick up is at 11:30 pm.

Sebastian glares at his phone, his teeth grinding as he tosses it onto the seat next to him.

“Are you OK?” I ask him, gently.

He refuses to answer, refuses to even look at me.

Not for the first time, I wonder why Sebastian is even doing this whole PR stunt.

Chapter 9

I have no idea what to wear.

I’m in my second bedroom, turned closet and music room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, a pastel mess all over my floor.

Reclining on my desk chair, I groan at the sight before me. The car will be here to pick me up in an hour and I haven’t done my eye makeup or my hair yet. Plus, I need to pack an overnight bag. We’re staying in a hotel tonight after our date, for full authenticity. Frank has assured me that there are two separate rooms booked, at least.

Today, I also learned that the rumors about the studio are true. Fortune Records will be the first company to establish a work space where both Humans and Monsters will be working together. And who better to mark the grand opening than their power couple of choice. So that’s later this week. God, I will have to pick an outfit for that too.

No, I have to focus on tonight. What do you even wear to a club filled with Monsters? Everything I own is colorful, and I’m worried that I will stick out like a sore thumb. Am I stereotyping by assuming that they’ll all be wearing dark clothes? Ugh, maybe.

When in doubt, be yourself, Flora. Yeah, I can do that. If I could wear anything tonight, what would it be? I pick out a dress that I haven’t gotten to wear yet. It’s tight through my waist, with a little ruffle that starts midway down my but. It has puffy off the shoulder cap sleeves too, and it’s in a gorgeous pastel floral print.

I might regret wearing these if they get ruined, but I pull out my sage green over the knee suede boots. Yes, this is fun! It’s giving more my onstage persona though, but why not go for it? Flora onstage is way more confident than Flora offstage.

I’ll need to pick out a cute wig too, then. I run my fingers through my long pink, wavy one. Perfect. I will do some fun makeup and then put this on properly.

Let’s see if Sebastian can ignore me in this.

All in all, I end up being ready a few minutes late, the car idling outside of my building when I get downstairs.

I’m super happy with the outfit I ended up choosing. I feel fun, and I will need to bring that energy for the both of us tonight.

Sebastian is wearing black trousers and a gray button-up with the top few buttons undone. That glimpse of his chest has me nearly drooling a little, the indent between his pecs clearly visible.

He does a definite double take as I get into the car. My weekend bag is weighing me down and I stumble a little. He darts up and takes my bag from me, setting it on the floor.

“Thanks,” I say, simply. I’m not expecting any kind of response, this is the best greeting I’ve had in a long time.