Page 20 of Wish You Would

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the avalanche of humiliation that crashed over me and plopped down in my seat. For as long as I lived, I would never forget the abject horror on Halle’s face last night.

“You all right?” Gigi asked, and my eyes flew open to find her holding a hand towel out to me.

I reached for it, smiling my thanks. “Maybe I should just be alone forever.”

Gigi’s brows shot up. “Oh?” She took her seat across from me. “Is that Parker Samuels, future PhD talking, or Parker Samuels, I’m gonna barf?”

A groan tore through me and I dropped my head to the table. Gigi chuckled. “It’s really not that bad,” she said, dragging her coffee closer to her. “In fact, I think Halle was worried about you.”

That caught my attention. I straightened. “Really?”

“Yeah. She asked if you were okay when I came out of the bathroom.” She scrutinized me through narrowed eyes. “Your sweater is soaked, take it off.”

I obeyed, draping it over the back of my chair. The chill in the air hit my damp skin and I shivered. Gigi shrugged out of her flannel. “Here, put this on.”

“I’m all right,” I started, but pressed my lips closed when I caught sight of her glare. “Okay.” I pulled it on, instantly warmed by the heat from her body. I hugged myself and sighed. “Thanks.”

Gigi shrugged her response and took the lid off her cup, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Anyway. How’s the weather?”

“The weath—” I narrowed my eyes, my brain trying to connect the dots Gigi was tossing onto the table between us. “It’s raining. You were just out there.”

“I hear it’s supposed to keep up for a couple days,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Man, is it depressing. Days and days of rain. Ugh. All this gray weather really gets a girl down. Maybe I should take up yoga, or get one of those happy lamps or something. You know, to counteract all the dreary weather. Did you know most people in Michigan are vitamin D deficient? Isn’t that crazy? We just don’t get enough sunshine.”

“I’m sorry.” I leaned forward, frowning. “Am I missing something?”

Gigi sat back in her chair and grinned. “Small talk,” she declared. “Lesson one.” Lifting her cup, she tilted it my way. “Do better than that.”

Sinking back into my seat, I stared at her. “You’re gonna teach me how to…talk.”

The smirk that lifted a corner of her mouth told me what she thought of my skepticism. “Seems to me, that’s exactly where we need to start.”

I winced. “Point taken.”

“Glad you see it my way. Now.” She rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “Hit me.”

“Uhh…do you like…bologna?”

“Do I like…” Gigi frowned. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

I covered my face with my hands. “Sorry, it was the first thing I thought of.”

“I’m not sure I want to know why it was the first thing you thought of.” She reached over and pulled my hands away from my face. “Try again.”

“Okay.” I nodded and straightened in my seat. I could do this. I’d talked to people plenty. I could do small talk. “How about them Red Sox?”

This time, Gigi tapped her chin with a fingertip as if thinking. “I’m not a baseball girl,” she said. “Dudes in tight pants, playing with balls…there’s no incentive for me to watch, ya know?”

“My dad is a big Red Sox fan. I went to so many games growing up.” I pulled the sleeves of Gigi’s shirt over my hands and grinned. “The tight pants are my favorite part.”

Laughter tumbled from Gigi, warm and full. I helplessly smiled in return.

“Parker Samuels,” she said, smiling as she shook her head, “objectifying baseball players. I’d have never guessed.”

I shrugged. “How else was I going to survive all those games?”

“So, baseball butts, huh?” Gigi eyed me, a glint in her eyes. “What else are you into? What other shocking secrets have you been keeping?”

I toyed with a button on the cuff of my—well, Gigi’s—shirt and shook my head. “I don’t think there’s anything shocking about me at all.”

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