Page 49 of When We Meet Again

I’m hoping that’s the start of many, because right now, it’s time for me to decide how to do this without breaking her. Or me.

CHAPTER 25

WAVERLY

Fortunate:Typical third-act breakup sitch happening. But we both know how this ends.

Unfortunate:A fucking third-act breakup is happening, and I think my best friend is a closet serial killer.

I stareat a text for about thirty minutes that should’ve been a phone call. There are multiple misspelled words, which leads me to believe he’s drinking.

Rome: To my favorite human. I need you to do soemthing for me…for us. I need you to go out onta date. With a guy. Its not’ goign to be me. Hear me ouft. Its just to make sure that im not a rebound. I want to love you but I dont wantr to be a reboundd from my brother

I want to love you.

I want to love you…

“I want to love you,” Victoria repeats next to me. I was in my own head after Roman dropped me off and I immediately called and begged her to have a good old-fashioned sleepover.There has been whiskey we’ve shared, and apparently, he’s been drinking as well. He must not utilize auto correct, either.

“A date? I haven’t been on a date since?—”

“Every time Roman has taken you out has been a date, but you’ve been too blind to see, missy.” She tosses a pillow at my head. “Watching the stars? Date. Dancing at Two Balls? Double Date. Birthday kisses and dancing in the rain? A date.” I roll my eyes, crossing my hands in front of my chest. She scoots closer to me on the sofa. “Waverly, if he wants you to go on a date, because he wants to love you, why not? It’s for himandyou.”

This is absurd! If I wanted a rebound, I would have banged a random dude from a bar. Or one of those college guys who come here on spring break. Or my neighbor from downstairs. He’s always leaving random things at my doorstep, whether it’s the daily newspaper, or small succulents he gets from his job at the florist. There was a time I needed to buy a multi-level shelf to harbor all of the succulents.

The idea of going out with a stranger sounds exhausting. I choose my circle wisely. And to let a complete stranger in for what reason? So, Roman doesn’t feel like a rebound? He should trust me, should he not?

Silence has filled the room except for Victoria’s chewing. I’m not sure when she opened that bag of Doritos, but I’m seconds away from batting it out of her hand.

Roman has pulled me out of my shell. He’s helped me become more human, and not someone who laid around all day because she forgot who she was without her fiancé. Roman has also graciously given me the space I need to find myself while offering his solid friendship. The lines were blurred. It was inevitable. If I need to go on a date to prove he isn’t a rebound, then that’s what I’ll do.

Everyone has their own insecurities, and this is obviously his. Rightfully so. His brother would flaunt me in his face all the damn time; I just never knew Patrick was doing that to Roman.

“It’ll be fun. Oh! I can set you up with a guy who just started at the office. He’s an architect, so he’s creative. Your favorite.” She flicks my arm. “He has red hair, and green eyes, and his freckles are adorable.”

I blink a few times. “Adorable makes it sound like you’re setting me up with a child. Red hair and freckles. Are you setting me up with Chucky? You’re trying to kill me off, aren’t you?” I joke, dramatically clutching the fabric over my chest.

“No. If I wanted to kill you, I’d slice and dice you, and feed you to the sharks.” I still at her words. From the amount of psychotic thriller books I’ve read the past few weeks, I’m starting to think you never know your friend’s a psychopath until they ask you to help them hide your own body, which would be impossible.Or would it?This may be that type of situation.

Still waiting for the “kidding” but it never comes.

“Anyway, his name is Connor. You’ll love him. Not in the Roman way, but in the ‘he’s a lot of fun’ kind of way. And he issomuch better than Patrick.” She hated Patrick. Never told me why, but just insisted I could do better—be happier. Victoria bats her lashes and holds her hands in front of her like she’s praying to the date gods, “Please. Please. Please?”

I can’t help but grin. Not because I’m going on a blind date with someone who, well, let’s face it, sounds like a man I reallyshouldbe with. But I smile because hanging out with Victoria makes me feel like I’m in my early twenties again. Like the weight of the world has yet to pull us down.

“Fine.” Is it possible to feel annoyed and grateful at the same time? I love that she cares this much to help me out. She’s genuinely rooting for me and Roman.

I stand, walk over to my bowl, and light a sage smudge stick before waving it around, trying my best to ground myself and rid my space of negative thoughts and energy. Or at least that’s what the lady at the store on the boardwalk told me.

“Okay. How’s tomorrow at six?” Victoria asks me while tapping away at her screen.

I turn into a cloud of smoke and start coughing. She finally takes her eyes off the phone. “Well, that explainseverything. You’re the demon.You’reyour own negative energy.” My middle finger flies into the air before she goes back to her phone.

She’s right. I’m standing in my own damn way. I’m my own worst enemy. “Six is great.”

“Good. I just sent your number to him. You should be getting a text from him soon. I know how you hate actual phone calls.” She mumbles under her breath, “Typical millennial.”

“I can hear you. And you’re aneldermillennial, too. So bite your tongue.” I stick my tongue at her seconds before my phone buzzes on the coffee table. Victoria leans over and takes a peek at the notification.

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