Page 10 of The Future Play

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Amanda.”

His hot gaze trails over me for a second, then his smile widens.

“Well, if you bring coffee all the time, we’re definitely keeping you.”

He grabs one from the box, and I do my best to keep my smile up.

I always try to be thoughtful and go the extra mile, especially for people I care about, and the girls have already made me feel at home. More than that, they’ve made me feel wanted—chosen.

I hate the insecure side of me that reminds me those nice things also help make me indispensable. No one wants to get rid of the girl who brings the coffee or the donuts or the chocolate.

Jamie tilts his head slightly, watching me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—coffee is a bonus. You know you’re stuck with them forever, right? They collect friends and make them part of the hive mind.”

His cheeks tint pink, and I find myself smiling more naturally again, partly to put him at ease.

“It’s fine. I—I’m…”Pathetic.Pathetic is the word I’m looking for.

“I don’t know if you were thinking that. I just know what it’s like to be taken advantage of by people for what you can give them. Not by this friend group. They aren’t like that. I didn’t want you to think I was doing that. Or would do that. Wow. I’m not starting off on the right foot.”

At that, I laugh. “You’re fine. Besides, what fun is it if things go perfectly smoothly? It’s a better story when we’re both stumbling over our words and acting like idiots.”

“Ah, a story for the grandkids.”

I slowly shake my head, some of the tension inside me uncoiling. “Where is—” I start at the same time he says, “What kind of coffee?—”

We both laugh.

“Sorry. Ladies first.”

I arch a brow. “I don’t know how much of a lady I am. What were you going to say?”

I swear I see a hint of color in his cheeks again, but he justsmiles and gestures to the box. “What kind of coffee did you want?”

“I’ll take one of the sugar cookie lattes.”

He pulls one out and hands it to me. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“Should we come up with some sort of system? Maybe cue cards for whose turn it is to talk?”

“Some kind of script would be really useful, so I don’t say anything else dumb.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other.

“No. I believe in us. We can do this.” We lock eyes for a second, then I clear my throat. “So, where is everyone?”

“Downstairs arguing about whether to leave the table they always play cards on down there or bring it up here.”

“Sounds productive.”

“There’s a reason I jumped at the opportunity to come up here when you came in.”

“Aw, it wasn’t just to meet little old me?”

“That sounded like I needed an excuse to force myself up here, didn’t it? See, I really need a script.”

“It’s fine. It’s like a bonding activity. Plus, with all the sarcastic responses to the dumb things we say, we’re really getting to know our sarcasm compatibility, and I find that’s incredibly important for a healthy friendship.”

He laughs. “I suppose that’s a good point.”

My gaze snags on a pile of tablecloths on the counter. “So, if they’re arguing, what can we do?”

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