Page 64 of Eye of the Beholder
And what a ridiculous thing for Cohen to say, that I’ve been flirting with him. I have not. I would know. Wouldn’t I? I would know if I were flirting with someone.
Right?
I stop with my foot on the bottom step. I hesitate for just a second, debating, and then I turn around and go right back up the stairs.
I go down the hall and knock on Cohen’s bedroom door. When he tells me to come in, I stick my head in. He’s still seated on his bed, and I hear the sounds of the football game I thankfully did not have to finish watching. He looks surprised to see me and pauses the game.
“Have I really been flirting with you?” I say. Maybe he was teasing when he said that.
A knowing smile crosses his face. “Yes.”
“But wouldn’t I know if I were flirting?” I say, feeling a bit desperate now. “I mean, isn’t that something you have to do on purpose?”
Cohen shrugs, looking at me curiously as he vaguely runs one thumb over the scar on his lip. “I don’t think so. I think it just happens. You’ll have to ask Lydia.”
“When have I flirted?” I say. “I really don’t mean to.”
“Thank you for going out of your way to tell me you have no interest in flirting with me,” he says, his voice dry.
I feel my face redden. “I—that’s not what I—”
“I know,” he says, his smile easy, his voice light. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Don’t worry about it, Mina. Some people just interact flirtatiously. The banter and all that. I know it doesn’t mean anything.” He looks back at his computer screen.
“Oh,” I say. “Okay. Good.”
Except it doesn’t feel good. My heart sinks as I pull my head back out of his room and close the door again.
My introspective side takes over my brain and has a field day with possible implications of these feelings, but I shut it off. I don’t want to go there.
I enter the kitchen, where Lydia is sitting at the table doing homework.
“Hi,” she says, looking up at me. “Are you ready?”
No.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think so.”
“Oh, it will be fine, Mina,” Lydia says. She must be able to see my hesitance.
“That’s what Cohen said too,” I say. I sigh. “But he says I flirt with him.”
Lydia nods, eyeing me critically. “You do. He flirts with you, too. But some people are just like that.”
“He said that too,” I say, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs.
“Well, he’s bound to be right some of the time,” Lydia says with a smile. “All right, I want to go over the basics of flirting. It’s like I said—it’s a rhythm. You know how to do it—everyone does. First: eye contact. Eye contact establishes a connection. Think about it; if you’re with a guy who won’t look at you, you’re not going to be interested.”
“Eye contact,” I say, nodding. “That’s…scary.” For a brief second I feel a jolt of nervousness at the thought of letting someone get a solid good look at my different-colored eyes, but I push it away. Cohen and Lydia both like my eyes. I’ll try to like them too.
“You can do it!” Lydia says, looking enthusiastic. “You really can. We’ll practice.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling nervous. “What next?”
“Compliments, and preferably early on.” Lydia leans forward in her chair. “Compliments let him know you’re interested. They can signal the direction of the conversation. They don’t have to be extravagant. Simple works. Compliment his shirt or his hair or something.”
“Compliments. Okay.” But how do I compliment someone without it being awkward?
“The key to compliments is confidence,” Lydia says, as though she can hear exactly what I’m thinking. “Be confident when you speak. If you act like you think complimenting him is weird, he’s going to feel weird receiving the compliment. If you act like it’s natural, it won’t faze him.”
