Page 38 of Unlikely You

“Does that help?” Dad asked after several moments of silence.

I put a smile on my face. It was easy to do. “Yeah, that did help. Thanks.” I gave him a hug and went back inside to check the online orders and update our social media accounts.

How hasthe rest of your day been?I sent to Bren. I wasn’t sure if she’d answer, or if she was totally sick of me for the day.

I decided not to worry about it and check in with Bibliofile by sending her a funny meme about romance readers.

Hey, I was just going to write to you. Have you read this one?She attached a link for a book.

No, I haven’t yet. I know everyone loves it, so I’m wary of all the hype. Worried it won’t live up to expectations.

It had happened to me before with a wildly popular sapphic book that I thought was just okay, but not life-altering. Only Bibliofile knew my true opinions on that one.

Hmmm. Now I don’t know if I should go for it.

We talked some more about books and I really wished I could ask her for advice about Bren. I knew she’d have something good to say to me about it, but I didn’t know how to tell her about Bren. It felt…wrong. Not that she knew I had a crush on herandon Bren, but still. It wasn’t anything close to cheating, but my stomach tied itself into knots anytime I thought about it.

So I didn’t tell Biblio about Bren and conversed with her while I waited to see if Bren was ever going to talk to me again.

Chapter Thirteen

Bren

The lunchwith Honey had been…weird. Not for any specific reason, but I’d left feeling unsettled and itchy. The second I got home I threw myself into work so I wasn’t thinking about Honey and her smile and her tits and her legs or any other part of her body. Idefinitelywasn’t thinking about her laugh, which kept echoing through my skull as if it was playing on a loop.

I didn’t think about her while I packed orders and stacked them by the door to take to the post office. I didn’t think about her while I printed more stickers and cut out fabric and heated up some leftovers for dinner and fed and played with Arson.

She’d sent me a message and I wasn’t going to respond. I wasn’t going to respond to any of her messages ever again. We’d had the lunch, she’d “paid” me back for the drink and whatever thing we’d been doing was over. Concluded. There was no reason that we needed to have further communication.

Except…I typed out several different responses before deleting every single one and putting my phone down again.

I tried to go to bed, but the spiders in my brain were spinning too many thoughts for sleep to be an option.

Instead, I went to the Holloway Apiary account and scrolled through the posts. Watched the videos. I knew Honey would probably get a notification, but I didn’t care.

There were videos of Honey rescuing bees from various locations. Those were the ones with the most views and comments. Her voice soothed me from the voiceover as she explained what she was doing, and it was no wonder so many people had watched the videos. Her voice was magnetic. Before I knew what had happened, I’d watched dozens of videos narrated by Honey. She really had done a ton of work on this account. The number of followers and engagement was impressive for such a small business. I wondered if she’d ever had media inquiries and if she knew how to handle that kind of thing?

I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t want to talk to her.

I didn’t.

Your social media account for the apiary is really impressiveI typed out and sent before remembering it was practically the middle of the night and she was probably asleep. Whatever. Hopefully she had her phone set on silent.

Thank you. That means a lot. I work really hard at it. Didn’t know anything when I started it.

That was even more impressive.

The videos rescuing the bees are my favoriteI sent the message before I realized what she was going to take from it. Shit.

That’s high praise indeed, thanks Bren!

Hell. I never should have said anything to her. Now she was going to think that we were friends.

You’re welcomeI responded because I would have felt like a bitch otherwise.

What are you doing up so late? Burning the midnight oil?

No. Lying in bed and obsessing about her was more like it.

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