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“I never said he wasn’t,” I replied with a smile as I swung around on my chair aimlessly and waited for her to get back.
“Absolutely no trust in his love.”
I nodded to myself.
We’d been studyingMuch Ado About Nothingin English, and Florence had some very strong feelings about how it would have all turned out if only people talked to each other and trusted each other. But then, she was always annoyed with Shakespeare. We hadn’t met anything about Shakespeare that she didn’t take exception to. Had I not known her inside and out for the previous four years, I might have said she possibly had an aversion to the notion of romance. As it was, I knew her very well and was very right it saying that she did believe in love, but she also believed we had a whole lifetime to find it, so who the hell was in a rush to put a label to things?
“It’s a play, Floss,” I reminded her with a smile.
“Honestly,” she huffed. “Can’t have a good romance without a misunderstanding, can you? It’s nice to know it’s been that way for centuries. Sorry, Jane, you didn’t invent it after all.”
I laughed. For all her anger with Shakespeare, she did love Austen. I didn’t blame her.
“Is it just me, though, or is Benedick kinda hot?” she asked absently.
“He’s definitely fictional,” I answered, still spinning my chair.
“I know Don Juan’s meant to be all that, but I love me a guy with a bit of sass.”
As I span, I saw Apollo at our door. He leant against the door jamb and grinned. He knew when Florence was on a tirade, and he was as amused by it as me.
“Do you think Apollo’s more a Claudio or a Benedick?”
“I don’t think it’s safe to answer that,” I told her and Apollo cracked his cheeky smirk at me.
She popped her head out of the bathroom and frowned at Apollo. “There is such a thing as knocking, you know.”
He shrugged and pushed off the door. “It was open.”
“So, you didn’t feel the need to announce yourself? Two of us live here, you know.”
“I amwellaware,” Apollo told her.
“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses in suspicion.
“What are you doing with the bathroom door open?” he countered.
“None of your business.”
“Again with the open doors.” He shrugged. “If you want secrets, you should keep the door closed, Flo.”
“It’s Florence,” she told him, then looked at me pointedly. “And, we will remember that.”
I frowned at her. The last thing I needed was Apollo thinking I had secrets. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel if he found out about Valen and me. We might have been fake dating, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel something about his future wife and his best friend sleeping together.
“You never told us what you were doing here,” she reminded him.
“Hanging out,” he answered, throwing me a smile.
“Oh no, you’re not,” Florence objected with a huff. “I don’t want to have to deal with you two being all lovey dovey while I’m dealing with Shakespeare.”
I kept my smile to myself at the evidence Florence would never let on she knew the truth behind me and Apollo.
“I thought teenage girls ate Shakespeare up?” Apollo chuckled.
Florence rolled her eyes. “Yes, because thirteen-year-old girls making poor life choices is a romance to which we all aspire,” she said sarcastically, then fake gagged.
Apollo gave her a nod. “All right,” he said. “Good to know. Less deaths. No suicides. Ixnay on the poison. What about comparing them to a rose?”
