Page 8 of The Dallas Dilemma

“Gorgeous,” I say, then sigh. “And he was really nice. He said he just wanted to introduce himself, and smiled even though I was being my usual weird self. That was Monday, and I didn’t see him again…until I left to come here.”

Twila’s eyes follow my hand as it waves over the full-length, footed pajamas I’m wearing, and when she pinches her lips together, her laughter escapes as a snort.At the sound, the other two lose control and start laughing, so hard, I can’t fight my own smile.

“Oh, my God,” Callie huffs when she gains control of her humor. “Classic.”

“What did he say?” Twila asks.

“He asked if I was going to a sleepover or a costume party,” I say, smiling softly. “I told him Raven insisted we dress like this, and he laughed. He said he was meeting his new boss at O’Malley’s tonight, and when I told him O’Malley’s is good, he gave me his card and told me to text or call him sometime. That he could use a friend who knows all the good spots in town.”

“A friend, huh?” Callie asks, her expression thoughtful. Then she cocks her head. “Royal is actually at O’Malley’s with Linc right now.”

“You should text him,” Raven says.

“Who? Royal?” I ask, confused.

“No, silly. Dallas. You should text him right now. I’m not buying the whole “friend” thing. He likes you.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” I say.

“It doesn’t hurt to text him just so he has your number,” Twila says.

“Yeah, and look how the whole texting thing worked out for Callie,” Raven adds.

“This is not the same thing,” I grumble.

My sister and Royal both teach fourth grade at the same elementary school, and they bumped heads for years. Unbeknownst to both of them, Callie got Royal’s dead fiancée’s phone number when she had to change hers a year or so ago. Royal had this tradition of textingHope––that was her name, Hope––around the anniversary of her death, and he and Callie ended up in an anonymous texting-friendship while in-person Callie and Royal figured out their shit and fell in love. This…whatever it is with Dallas is different.

We are not the same.

“Fine,” Raven says. “But at least program his number into your phone. That way, if you accidentally lose his card, you’ll still have the opportunity to reach out if you ever work up the nerve.”

“That’s a good idea,” Callie says, offering me a small smile. “Better safe than sorry.”

When I glance at Twila, she nods at me with encouragement. I roll my eyes and blow out a long breath.

“Fine.”

Pulling the card from the pocket of my pajamas, I open my contacts on my phone and add Dallas’ info. When I finish, I turn the device around and flash the screen toward the others.

“There. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Callie says, a grin stretching across her face.

Twila claps before getting up to go make a fresh round of drinks, and Raven frowns. When I furrow my brows at her, she sighs.

“I’d be happier if you’d text him and ask him out,” she pouts, and my heart knocks in my chest at the mere idea of doing something so…brazen. Raven rolls her eyes, saying, “Oh, come on, Joey. It’s not the nineteen-fifties, you know. Womencanask men out without being considered a harlot.”

“Who’s a harlot?” Twila asks with a chuckle as she re-enters the room and hands me a cocktail glass.

“Raven,” I grouch.

“Joey,” Raven says at the exact same moment.

Callie and Twila both laugh, and I feel myself relaxing. I’m so glad to have this group in my life. I mean, Callie’s always been my sister, obviously, but as we grew up and became adults, we grew closer as friends. Twila is grandfathered in since we met in first grade and became attached at the hip. And Raven? Well, she’s technically Callie’s bestie, but I’m sure she’d shank a bitch for me if the situation called for such violence.

As introverted as I am, it’s really hard to make friends like them. Especially as an adult.

But what about Dallas? He seems like he might want to be friends. Or, at the very least,friendlyneighbors. Will I really be able to put myself out there and text him? To foster the possible friendship?

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