Page 49 of Wish You Would

“Sparks? What do you mean, sparks? There are no sparks between us.” Even as I said it, my lips burned with the memory of her kiss. Without thinking, I put my fingertips against them.

My best friend’s eyes followed the movement, one perfect brow lifting. “Is there something else you want to tell me, Parker dear?”

“Argh,” I groaned, “what are you, a psychic?”

He laughed and dodged the pillow I swung at his head. Wilbur, over our shenanigans, leapt off the bed. “It’s written all over your face, love,” he said once he recovered. “You wear everything on your face.”

I growled. He grinned. Yanking my pillow back, I squeezed it tight to my chest. Then, with my eyes glued to the peonies on my comforter, I spoke. “I kissed her.”

Simon’s eyes widened. He struggled into a sitting position and shoved my shoulder. “Shut up. You did not.”

My face flamed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I nodded. “I did. Then she…ran away.”

“She—” Simon shifted, the bed rumbling beneath us. “She what?”

I opened my eyes to find him kneeling before me, his face a mask of shock and scandal. Unable to bear the look on his face, I dove back into the bed, face buried in my pillow. “She ran away,” I repeated, my words muffled. “I kissed her and then she ran away.”

Simon didn’t speak, not at first. After a long, quiet pause, a gentle hand landed on my shoulder, urging me to roll over. I did, but I kept my eyes closed. I could only imagine what I looked like in that moment, eyes squeezed comically tight, face pinched like I was bracing for a punch.

“Run that by me,” he said finally, voice soft, “one more time.”

With a sigh that could’ve pushed a sailboat across the Pacific, I sat up. Then I talked.

“So, she actually ran away.”

I nodded, both vindicated and embarrassed by the indignation in Simon’s tone. “She did.”

“What the fuck?” He stood from my bed and planted his fists on his waist. “I find it hard to believe you’re that bad a kisser.”

“Well, thanks,” I said dryly. “That thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but now it’s all I’m going to think about.”

“Oh, stop it.” Irritation radiated from him, and I knew it wasn’t meant for me. “It makes no sense. Why would she do that?”

“Well, obviously,” I started, sliding to the edge of the bed. “She’s not into me.”

“No.” Simon shook his head, tone final. “That’s not it.”

“How not?” I stood, the cool of the wood floor grounding me. “Why else would someone run away after being kissed?”

“My dear, there is a plethora of reasons. None of which have anything to do with that woman’s attraction to you.” He spun me to face him. “You may not have noticed the way she looks at you—and that’s an entirely different issue we’ll address at a later date—but I have. Trust me. She’s into you.”

“Well, then why—”

“I don’t know.” Marching across my bedroom, he flung my closet door open. “But we’re gonna make her rue the day she ran.”

“You wanna clue me in?” I asked as he flipped through my closet, hmm-ing and ooh-ing.

He glanced over his shoulder, a brilliant smile on his face. “You, my dear, are going to go out with Halle tonight, and you’re going to have an amazing time.” He pulled a green paisley dress from the closet, held it up for inspection, then put it back. “You’re not going to think of that cowardly kisser one time. Now.” Turning around, he held up another dress. My favorite dress. “Put this on.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, taking the dress from him. “But it’s only eleven a.m. My date isn’t for another eight hours.”

“Oh.” Simon nodded. “Right. Of course.” Hanging the dress on the outside of my closet door, he faced me again. “Plan still stands. But in the meantime.” He looped his arm through mine and led me from my bedroom. “How about some breakfast?”

Later that night, I stood in my bedroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. I was meeting Halle at Casa de Queso in about forty minutes.

I’d gone back and forth earlier, like an emotional ping pong ball. Go on the date or Cancel. Back and forth, back and forth. Simon had watched me fling myself from option to option, until finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re going,” he had said. “Are you going to let one little kiss from someone who couldn’t even stick around to talk about it like an adult get in the way of the date you’ve been dreaming about for months?”

---