Page 36 of Text Appeal

Connor moves close enough that there’s barely a hair’s breadth between his front and my back. My skin prickles with awareness. He’s so solid and warm, and I sort of wish this was real. I mean one day, with someone else, of course. There’s no rush. Things are busy enough right now just figuring out where I belong, etcetera.

His breath warms my earlobe when he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You were frowning.”

“Just some random thought wandering through.”

“Such as?”

I shake my head. My burgeoning crush on him can stay buried forever. That would work best.

A moment later, he asks, “If the offer’s still open, can I crash at your place?”

“Of course.” It’s hard to ignore the swarm of butterflies taking flight in my belly. The thrill that goes through me at the thought of him spending the night. This is absolutely an only one bed situation. But I need to calm the heck down. Nothing is going to happen between us. “I haven’t had a sleepover since I was a teen. We can order food, watch some TV, do whatever.”

He still doesn’t smile. But there is the hint of one in his eyes. Like he isn’t exactly as unhappy as he was before. “Sounds good, Riley.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“How long do you think we should stay?” asks Connor.

“I don’t know. An hour?”

“Can’t wait to put all of this behind me. Then I can stop wasting your time with this bullshit,” he says in a bitter tone. “Guess I better introduce you to some people.”

I down some cider. My suddenly dry throat needs it. “Aren’t most of the people here either on her side or overly invested in the gossip?”

“Yeah.”

“Forty-five minutes to go, homie. We can do this.” I give him a nice bright fake smile. Yay for toxic positivity. “We’ve got your brother convinced, at least.”

He nods.

“Some of the people here have to be starting to rethink things. Like how you and the prom queen maybe don’t belong together forever and ever.”

“I fucking hopeso.”

We stand in silence for a while. His grumpy face is my least favorite. The way he stands with hunched shoulders, viewing the world with guarded and hostile eyes. It is understandable that this situation sucks the happiness out of him. But life is short and I want to coax him out of his crappy mood. “What do you think Martha said when Ava tried to talk her into coming?”

“She would’ve pretended it was a bad connection and then hung up. It’s what she does anytime you try to tell her stuff she doesn’t want to hear.”

“I can imagine her doing that.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. So close.

What we need is a reset. Something to shake up the dour mood. “What did the French girl say to her best friend?”

“I don’t know, Riley.” He tips his chin. “What did the French girl say to her best friend?”

“Not a clue. I don’t speak French.”

He looks at me with wonder. But like not the good kind. “That’s awful. Is that your idea of a joke?”

“Being awful is what makes it so good.” I smile. “Your turn. Tell me one.”

“I can’t think of any right now,” he says after a moment.

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