Some Kind of Wonderful Read Online Free Page B

one last kiss.
    "Be good," I told Noodles, who sneezed out a good-bye.
    We were halfway down the stairs of my brownstone when we noticed my parents walking up the sidewalk.
    "Who are these two trendsetters?" my dad asked, jokingly. He'd already met Adam—they'd spent a good twenty minutes comparing
     their fantasy football teams, which was the ultimate icebreaker with my dad.
    "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Flood," Adam said, smiling easily. It was cool that he never got high-strung about being around my parents.
    "Flan, you're a goddess," my mother said. "How did I ever give birth to you?"
    It was the same thing my mother said every time she was home to see me, whether I was wearing a prom dress or pajamas.
    As we said good-bye to my parents and started walking to the restaurant, Adam put his arm around my shoulders. Even though
     it was kind of heavy, I appreciated the gesture to shield me from the icy November wind. Walking next to Adam, I realized
     I was glad that I'd decided to go with the vintage red heels instead of my typical Hollywould flats. I had been feeling like
     the Tower of Pisa this week, but then I remembered with relief that Adam was six-foot four. It was the first time all week
     that I hadn't felt like a giant.
    When we got to Perilla, we were seated at one of the curved banquettes. The place was laid out really nicely, with lots of
     bold reds and whites and dark woods. The music was on pretty loudly and there was an even louder buzz of voices talking over
     it. I had to scrunch really close to Adam to get him to hear me when I talked, which wasn't a bad thing at all.
    Over appetizers of duck meatballs, Adam took my hand. "I owe you an apology," he said.
    "For what?" I asked. What could he possibly have done wrong?
    "For being so insanely busy with football. I know I haven't had a ton of time to hang out. But between Coach pressuring me
     to implement all these new plays and double practices . . . well, I just hope these past few weeks haven't been too hard on
     you."
    I was on my way to laughing out loud when I realized that Adam was being one hundred percent serious. Uh-oh. Was it bad that I'd barely noticed how swamped he'd been with football? "Don't sweat it," I said. "I've been crazy busy myself."
    "But Flan, you deserve a guy who can totally be there for you. As soon as football season's over next month, I'm going to
     bring the focus back to us."
    "Oh," I said. "Okay."
    The truth was, I was happy with the way our relationship was going. I mean, we already saw each other every day at school,
     and we hung out at least once a week. How much more did he think we were missing out on? As Adam snuggled closer to me in
     our curved leather banquette and kissed my cheek, I suddenly found myself wondering whether I was ready for him to bring the focus back to us.
    I tried to lighten the mood. "So guess where I'm going for Thanksgiving break?" I asked.
    "Plymouth Rock?" Adam joked.
    "Not quite," I said. "My family's going to some bungalow resort in Nevis. I'm super excited. Meredith and Judith are coming,
     too."
    "My family's going to Chicago," Adam said. "We go to the Bears game every year. It's fun—not Nevis fun, but still pretty awesome."
    He refilled my water glass from the crystal pitcher on the table. "So, how are Judith and Meredith? Everything back to normal
     between you guys after . . ." His voice trailed off. He knew we'd gotten in a little tiff over him, but I'd tried to spare
     him most of the gory details.
    "Completely," I said as the waiter set down our steaming entrees. I couldn't wait to dig into my organic free-range chicken
     with baby bok choy. "They're such great girls—nothing like my old friends from Miss Mallard's."
    Adam squinted at me and angled his head. "What do you mean? What were your old friends like?"
    I didn't know why I'd brought that up. The memories of my old friends must have been all tangled up in my head with the thoughts
     my mother planted about returning to the private