Page 26 of The Friend Game

“W-What?” I babble futilely. “I do not have a crush on him.”

The doorbell rings.

“Oh good,” Jill sets the last plate down with a grin, “because I invited him to join us for dinnertonight, and I’d hate for you to drool all over our guest.”

“You did what?” My hands fly up to my messy bun and my eyes travel down over my clothes. “Jill, I’m wearing flannel joggers!” I squeak. “My t-shirt has a hedgehog on it. And my hair is a mess! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jill gives me a quick once over. “Your hair is fine. Hedgehogs are trendy. And your butt looks good in those pants.” She shrugs. “Plus, it was more fun this way.”

I just stare at her, mouth hanging open.

“Oh don’t be such a drama queen,” Jill says with a little huff. “He doesn’t even know you’re going to be here, so if you’re that worried about your hair you can just disappear to your house and fend for yourself for dinner. I’m sure a blueberry yogurt and a slice of peanut butter toast will be way better than my chicken Kiev.”

I wish I could be affronted right now, but she’s right. That is what I will eat for dinner if I go home.

“You’d better decide quickly, though,” Jill adds as she starts slicing pear for the mixed green salad she’s preparing, “I hear Max and Liam heading for the door. They’ll be back with Pastor Abbott any minute.”

She’s right, I can hear the galloping noise that accompanies my nephew’s signature mode of traveland Max’s voice chiding him to slow down in the slippery foyer.

I glance over at the kitchen exit that leads to the backyard. I can see my little house. Holly is lounging on the welcome mat. She’d appreciate my peanut butter toast, I’ll tell you that.

“Oh my word. You are such a chicken,” Jill whispers at me. “You’re really considering leaving?”

“I’m in loungewear, Jill,” I whisper-screech. “Don’t judge me. You didn’t let Max see you without makeup for the first six months of your relationship.”

Jill sticks her tongue out. “I have blonde lashes,” she retorts, “mascara is as essential as underwear to me. And Max didn’t get to see me without underwear until we were married.”

“Wow, thanks for sharing.” I take two steps towards the door. “I’m just going to change, okay? Then I’ll head back over.”

“Whatever, Han,” Jill pours chopped walnuts over the salad, “you do you. Like I said, I think you look cute in yourloungewear,” she drags out the word, “but if you’re going to change I’d do your hair too.”

“You said my hair was fine!” I protest indignantly.

“And it is,” Jill replies calmly, “but that messy top knot of yours pairs better with your current outfit than it will with jeans and a nice top.”

“I don’t like you right now,” I inform Jill, but she only laughs again. I’m still caught in indecision, when I hear Luke’s voice in the hall right outside the swinging kitchen door. He’s here! There’s only one thing to do. I spring into action, throwing myself on the floor and scuttling under the table.

“Hannah!” Jill exclaims in shock, but before she can say more, there they are—Max, Liam, and Luke have entered the kitchen. I know because I can see their shoes from my vantage point…under the table.

Oh. No. I’munder the table! Why! Why am I under the table? The realization of how idiotic it was to hide under here hits me square in the chest, and I pray for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.Jesus,I plead,now would be a great time for your second coming. I’m ready! Play the trumpets! Bring me home, Lord!

“Pastor Abbott, welcome to our home,” Jill sounds completely flustered, and I can practically hear her murderous thoughts. The jokes on her though, because I actually would love it if she would murder me right now. Then I wouldn’t have to explain to Luke why I’m under the table.

“Thank you, Jill. I appreciate you having me.” Luke’s deep voice fills the kitchen. Gosh, he has anice voice. A girl could listen to that voice for hours. Listen to that voice preach or tell jokes or maybe even listen to it whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. I like Luke. I like Luke,and I’m under the flipping table. If Luke finds me here, having to wait four months for him to ask me out will no longer be an issue, because he willneverask me out.

There’s nothing for it. I’m just going to have to stay under here all night. Jill has a tablecloth on this table, bless her antiquated heart, so that at least provides me some coverage. I’ll just hide out here until he goes to the bathroom or they retire to the living room for coffee or whatever, then I’ll bolt out of here. He never has to know.

That’s when I hear a foreboding sound that signals my doom. Dog tags. And paws clacking on the floor. Goldie is coming. My cover is blown. That dog is a tracker.

I watch her paws head for Luke, who greets the dog with an enthusiasm that makes me swoon. He likes dogs!

I don’t have long to dwell on this though, because, as predicted, Goldie catches my scent. Her nose is to the floor, headed my way.

New plan. A stroke of brilliance actually.

“Found it!” I shout as Goldie closes in on the table. I back out quickly, brandishing my handaround in front of me like a crazy person. “Found it!” I cry again. I’m avoiding eye contact with everyone, but most of all Luke. I don’t want to see his expression, if I do, and it’s bad, I might cut tail and run.

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