Right Number, Wrong Girl

“It was not that difficult,” I said, shaking my head. “Not once you dropped the attitude.”

“Attitude? I don’t have an attitude.” Hugo scoffed.

“Yes, you do, and it sucks. There are all-girls schools out there full of teen girls who have less attitude than you.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. My attitude pales in comparison to yours.”

“Oh, please. I’m hardly going to sit here and take your crap, am I?”

He peered over his shoulder at me. “Tea? Or would you rather make it yourself?”

“How do you make it?”

“Wrong,” Evelyn said, walking into the kitchen. “He makes it wrong.”

“Then I’ll make it myself,” I replied. “Good afternoon, Evelyn. How are you today?”

“Depends how well you make my tea, Camilla,” she mused.

I hadn’t offered, but sure. I’d make it. I was interested to see if how I took it was anything close to how she did it.

“Well, if you’re making it…” Hugo said, sitting down with a smirk.

“Stop smirking. It’s not becoming of a young man.” Evelyn rapped her walking stick against his leg. “You’re a gentleman. Act like it.”

I hid a smile by dipping my head as I poured hot water into the teapot.

“You stop smiling, too. If the two of you are going to sleep together, get on with it. I heard you flirting from the other side of the hall.”

“We were not flirting,” I replied, putting the lid on the teapot and setting the timer on my phone.

Hugo grinned. “I was.”

“I didn’t know whining was considered flirting.”

“It is when the other person is adorable.”

“Ugh.” Evelyn mimed throwing up. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You and me both,” I told her, checking the phone timer. “And he can flirt all he likes. I’m not interested.”

Mostly.

“Smart girl.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Hugo said, holding his arms out.

My phone went off, and I stopped the timer then took the lid off the teapot so I could fish out the teabags. “Good. Then you’ll get the message to stop flirting, won’t you?”

“Why do you set a timer for your tea?”

“So I know how long to let the teabags steep. Do you not do that?”

“Normal people don’t do that, no.”

“That’s why you make shit tea, then,” Evelyn interjected. “You can’t go around letting teabags steep willy-nilly.”

I pointed my teaspoon at her and looked at Hugo pointedly. “She’s right. Teabags are useful.”