Page 46 of Hot Shot

Jessa’s tongue sticks out a little in concentration as she lays the paper in and smooths it out. “There. How lovely.”

Once she’s through admiring her handiwork, she joins me on the floor with the boxes.

“First of all,” she begins, “being angry for his competence cannot last long.”

“How about for his hotness?”

“Also not a winning strategy. You’ll cave the moment he walks in.”

I sigh, setting all the bathroom stuff together.

“Really, the only way to possibly survive is acceptance. You’ve made your choice, for better or for worse. At the very least, the two of you should be friends, despite being attracted to him. Think of him like you do Tate.”

I make a face.

“Hmm, Greyson?”

My brows rise and I bobble my head in a solid maybe.

“I’ll take it. Just put him in the friend category. Accept that he’s going to be a part of your life every day now. It’s not as if you don’t already know how hard it will be. But I imagine if you embrace it, it’ll be easier to manage.”

I consider this as I toss the towels in a pile to wash. Embracing the whole thing wasn’t on my radar, but I feel better even just thinking about it.

“That might work,” I admit. “But what do I do when he does something really slutty? Like iron or clean the toilet.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re mental, do you know that?” Her box is full of supplies for the desk, and her hands are busy organizing them in one of the drawers. “Let’s talk solutions. But first, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I sleep with him. Fall in love with him. I hurt him because I’m not ready. I jeopardize Cricket’s wellbeing or Wilder’s custody because I freak out or bolt, or…I don’t know. Do the wrong thing because really I’m not ready for anything and have no idea how to learn to be independent and discover myself when he’s over here cleaning toilets like a hoe and I have to sleep in bed with him.”

Jessa’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Because I’m crazy. “That’s a start. I think we need to place some obstacles in the way so you at least trip before you cross a line. It’ll give you a moment to consider. Like a wall of pillows between you.”

I brighten up. “Oh! Okay, this is good. I have a mouth guard, that should help.”

“Yes! Maybe dress like a troll when you’re home. Like baggy, ratty clothes, hair a mess. No traipsing around in yoga pants and a sports bra, you know?”

“I could make him sleep in a tee and pajama pants. I feel like that would help alot. Probably too cruel though. It’d drive him crazy, and not in a good way.”

“Well, you don’t want to make him angry, do you?”

“A little.”

She gives me a look.

“Okay, no. What else? Don’t sit next to him unless I have to?”

“Now you’ve got it. But, I know from experience that there will be times when there’s no obstacle to throw at the problem. So you’ll have to manage yourself.”

I imagine myself in Wilder’s pants again and frown. “I’m doubtful.”

“No, think of it like…you know how boys will recite baseball players when they have a boner? Or think of their grandmother? Or like, when you’re speaking in public and people say to picture the audience in their knickers?” I’m laughing, and she takes it as an affirmative. “Well, you need a boner killer. Like…picture him with a soul patch.”

This time, I full on cackle. “Or wearing a fedora.”

“Yes! Or him wearing those Birkenstock sandals. Maybe he’s really into crypto. Oh my God—imagine he owns a Cybertruck.”

The cackle turns into a howl.

She giggles. “Or things that give you the ick. Like, once, Henry and I were in his vintage convertible and his earlobes were flapping just a bit in the wind.”

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