Page 55 of The Thought of You

“I didn’t ask, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have heard his answer, given how loudly my ears were ringing.”

“Maybe it’ll be good for you? Somehow? Perhaps?” I offer with a wince.

“That’s like saying stepping on knives would be good for me,” she deadpans. “He is going to be right next door in all his dark, manly glory, and I can’t be single. I’ll be too tempted to fall into old patterns, and I just can’t. I need to distract myself with someone—anyone—else.”

My heart sinks a fraction. As much as I’d like to see Maren and Nate rekindle their romance in one of the greatest love stories in Sapphire Creek history, she doesn’t believe it would be good for her, and I respect her resolve.

In fact, I agree, but it doesn’t stop me from asking myself—why do we want the ones who are so damn bad for us?

“I kissed Owen at the reunion,” I blurt.

Maren nearly leaps off the bench in rather dramatic fashion.

“I mean, it was this really stupid moment where I was like, really stupid.” My heart races as I attempt to gather my thoughts—and fail.

She covers her mouth with one hand, but her smiling eyes give her away. Her clear enjoyment of my insanity scrapes a nerve.

“What are you laughing at? It was a horrendous mistake, and you find it hilarious?” I practically shriek.

“I knew it!” She drops her hands back to the table, flashing me a wide, satisfied grin. “I knew there was something between you two.”

I scoff. “How dare you? I don’t like him.”

“Babe, you talk about Owen Conrad more than you do Taylor Swift or Shark Tank. You like him, even if you hate that you like him. Why else would you kiss him?”

“Because… because… there was probably something in the champagne, like freaking… delusion pills.” I stumble over my words, further embarrassing myself, and my cheeks flame.

“Delusion pills?” She arches a brow. “I think the only delusional one here is you.”

I slump in my seat with a huff.

“Is he a good kisser?” she asks in a hushed tone, the smile she wears still smug and irritating.

I can’t lie to my friend. “He was phenomenal,” I mumble. “I floated outside my body, Mar. I mean, I don’t believe in magic, but his kiss may have altered my whole belief system.”

She squeals.

I do a double take, since it’s not something I’ve often witnessed or heard myself, but it’s true. Maren Clayton actually squealed.

“That’s bad,” I state. “It’s bad for me to entertain anything with him.”

“Why? You said yourself that no one’s given you any feels lately. Bond didn’t do it for you, and he was a perfect gentleman. Maybe you need the opposite.” She wiggles her brows. “Owen might not check your boxes, but he could show you a good time. Why not pursue it?”

Because I might like him.

I swallow that admission down. I’m not ready to confess as much to her—or to myself.

“I’m not fun.” I frown.

“What are you talking about? You’re fun as hell.”

“I don’t possess his level of fun. I don’t wear tiny shorts and cheer from the stands at baseball games. I don’t even watch baseball at home. I don’t watch any sports.”

“So?” This gorgeous, normally insightful human doesn’t get it.

“We have nothing in common, Mar, and besides, he and I work together. There are too many reasons not to get involved, including the fact that the storm launched a freaking tree into my classroom like a rocket from Hell. He and I have to share the gym for weeks.”

“Everything you just said makes all this that much more delicious,” she says, hissing the final s with far more enthusiasm than I feel.

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