Page 25 of Wish You Would

“I didn’t.” She took her phone back and put it aside. “She volunteered.”

“Holy crap,” I murmured, disbelief rendering me incapable of more words.

“Parks, if anything calls for an actual swear word, it’s our mother in cosplay.”

At that, I laughed, and, after a second, Anya joined in.

“So,” Anya said after once we recovered. “What have you been up to while I was gone?”

“Oh, you know.” I kept my eyes down as I cut a bite of pancake. “The usual. School, work. Nothing exciting.”

As I said it, a voice in my head sang the childhood song about liars with their pants on fire. And then my face burst into flames.

“Uh huh.” Anya straightened in her seat, pancakes forgotten. “Wanna try that again? Your face said your mouth was lying.”

I glowered her way. “My face said no such thing.”

A smirk curved her lips. I looked away. “Out with it, baby sister.” She leaned in. “Or I’m gonna ask Aunt Laura to send me the picture she has of your naked little baby butt running through the sprinklers and hang it in the bar.”

My jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”

She shrugged. “I might.”

“You’re evil.”

“Sometimes evil is the most effective route.” She reached for her phone and poised a finger over the screen. “What’s it gonna be, baby butt or hot goss?”

“Okay, okay!” I leaned over the table to grab her phone. She pulled it out of reach. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

A satisfied smile spread across her face. She sat her phone down and settled into her seat, propping her chin on a fist. I’m waiting, her green eyes said.

I sighed a sigh so long I felt like a deflated balloon. “You know the band that plays at Heathcliff’s the last weekend of every month?”

“Sure,” Anya said. “Tommy Pickles”

“Patti Mayonnaise,” I corrected, “yes. Anyway.” I shifted in my seat, a sudden bout of nerves in my stomach. “I sort of…haveacrushonthedrummer.” I ran all the words together in a mumbly stream of syllables and stared hard at the glistening syrup on my pancakes. My face heated, and I just knew I was bright red to the roots of my hair.

There was a beat of silence across the table that could not be softened by the sounds of the restaurant around us. I looked up in time to catch the dawning realization on Anya’s face as it hit her. This new piece of information about the sister she was still getting to know. My bisexuality wasn’t a recent revelation. I’d known it since middle school. I just…hadn’t told many people in my life. Now Anya knew.

And…it felt right.

Finally, Anya nodded, information absorbed and processed. “She’s hot,” she said. “I don’t blame you.”

“Oh, my god. Right?” I leaned in, my grip tightening on my fork. “So hot. Her hair, and her arms, and her dimples? Gah.”

Anya grinned. “So, have you talked to her?” She gasped, another thought hitting her. “Have you done more than talk to her?”

In my brain, the one interaction I had with Halle replayed in slow-motion. The way her friendly smile vanished when I opened my mouth. Mortification slithered through me anew.

I sank back, groaning. “I can count the exact number of words I have said to her.” I held up my hands to count. “I. Think. I’m. Going. To. Barf.”

The shock on Anya’s face would have been funny if it weren’t at my expense. Her eyes went so wide I could see the entirety of her pupils. “Parks,” she said in hushed tones. “You didn’t.”

I nodded, lips pressed together. “I did.” Wincing, I added, “And then I ran away and hid in the bathroom.”

“Oh. Oh, honey.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “My poor, sweet, awkward baby sister.”

“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back a shudder. “It was so bad. So, so bad.” Exhaling a quick breath, I shook away the shame. “But all hope is not lost. Gigi is helping me—”

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