"Eight Nights of Flirting" by Hannah Reynolds, Chapters 1

I watched him from the corner of my eye, feigning indifference as I brushed away the snow clinging to my coat from crossing the tarmac.

mote

The wind—which had spurred nerve-racking turbulence—howled like a lone wolf given wild, maniacal form by motes of snow.

subtlety

Mom lacked even the smallest drop of subtlety.

sporadically

I’d met Isaac—my great-uncle’s nineteen-year-old intern—sporadically over the last year, at family and company events.

blatantly

Also, while I was blatantly ignoring him, I found it insulting that he so easily ignored me.

relentless

Mocked him relentlessly in an attempt at flirting. Made him cry and leave for home early.

rebuff

Spent four summers madly in love with him, only to finally make a move and be utterly, devastatingly rebuffed.

bleak

But today, a nor’easter had swept the Eastern Seaboard with the reckless speed of Elsa icing Arendelle, painting the world white—even Nantucket, where the sea usually whipped the island wet and bleak.

quaint

The island already had a quaint, old-timey atmosphere, and winter just heightened it.

stark

This was my favorite season on Nantucket: I loved the stark, cold beauty, the snowy beaches and brilliant stars.

monolith

The lawn was a sheet of white, the bushes snowy heaps, and the house—usually an elegant beauty—a blank monolith under the darkening sky.

trundle

“We’ll wait to make sure he gets in all right,” Phil said as Tyler trundled to the front door, then stepped inside.

deign

Surely he wouldn’t deign to suggest...

abut

Tyler’s moms’ summer home abutted my family’s ancestral property, the sprawling estate of Golden Doors, so the ride took a scant minute.

scant

Tyler’s moms’ summer home abutted my family’s ancestral property, the sprawling estate of Golden Doors, so the ride took a scant minute.

advent

Five and a half years ago, when I was a foolish eleven-year-old, I discovered crushes. I’d never had one before, though I’d watched my classmates giggling about kissing, all fascinated by the bewildering and unstoppable advent of puberty.

abstract

I understood in the abstract but didn’t relate.

indelible

The world slowed so each indelible second could be printed on my soul.

nuance

I had no shame, chasing Tyler with all the nuance of a six-year-old who thought her parents couldn’t tell when she lied.

eddy

Snow swirled in glittering eddies around his feet.

aloof

Or because they read my demeanor as aloof and cool—at least according to one girl I’d overheard in the school bathroom—when really I was just awkward and silent.

tempestuous

The snow continued to fall, the mounds outside shaped by tempestuous wind.

palpable

Tyler kept at my back, his footsteps silent, his presence palpable.

emboss

After that, he picked up an embossed box and turned it in his hands.

flush

I peeked at Tyler, flushing.

casually

I couldn’t believe he’d so casually bring up the most excruciating moment of my life.

disdain

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I guess I got whiplash, going from years of adoration to years of disdain.”

fleeting

His eyes narrowed fleetingly, but then he flashed me the grin I’d spent years adoring.

tendril

I took a large swallow of tea, which burned down my throat and spread tendrils of warmth through my chest.

tactile

“I’m a tactile person,” he said offhandedly. “When I was little and my moms took me shopping, I used to touch all the fabric in the stores.”

intersperse

Abandoned furniture was interspersed with the storage: a rocking chair and horse, a few old lamps, a mirror.

pique

My interest was instantly piqued.

interminable

Sometimes I was so bored, and the afternoons stretched interminably, filled with homework and papers and studying.

eclectic

An eclectic mix filled the jar: small white shells and large, colorful fans—rather like the gray scallops I often saw here but with the gold and orange of a sunset.

bracing

I took a bracing sip of the Godiva.

sprig

We filled vases with ornaments and sprigs of eucalyptus spray-painted white and placed dried bouquets of blue baby’s breath in slim glass containers.

dredge

I dredged my brain on the off chance answers had been caught in the nooks and crevices over the years.

exacting

I was into patterns, Grandma liked alternating, and Noah was exacting, though one year he did all orange candles on the eighth night, and I still hadn’t forgiven him.

reedy

“Barukh ata Adonai,” I sang, intimately aware of my thin, reedy voice alone in the silence.

warble

Still, I carried on, warbling on some notes, breaking on others.

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"Eight Nights of Flirting" by Hannah Reynolds, Chapters 1–4

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"Eight Nights of Flirting" by Hannah Reynolds, Chapters 1–4

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