Page 50 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

My heart leap frogs to my throat. “Really?”

“I’d say so.” Mom leans forward and pats my hand. “And her reaching out last night… Perhaps that was her way of making a move toward you. But my guess is, she’s not going to advance again. She’s waiting for you.”

“To do what?”

“To make the next move. The ball’s in your court, son.”

“All right.” Mom knows I love a good sports analogy, so I indulge her. “But what if I overshoot?”

“Maybe don’t go for the Hail Mary right away.” She shrugs. “Take smaller shots. They’ll add up.”

When I just blink back at her, Mom cracks another smile, lines spiderwebbing out from her eyes. “Woo her, Jordan. Don’t come right out and tell her you love her, but show her in several small ways. See if you can slowly start to get her to see you in a different light.”

And suddenly, it’s oh so clear.

It’s like Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s sky hook, during which he’d back his way down the court until he was close enough to shoot. With consistency and precision, he racked up the points for his team time and time again.

And it’s time for me to create my signature move too.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m your mother.” She drains the rest of her chai. “Now, would you like some ideas?”

“Uh,yeah.” I pull out my phone and open the Notes app, my thumbs hovering over the screen. “I’m all ears, Mom.”

All ears—and all in.

The fear is still there, niggling at the back of my mind. Thewhat-ifs are strong, but I do my best to dull them. To ignore them. To remind myself that I can’t live in the friend zone forever.

And thatthisjust might be my ticket out.

fourteen

MARILEE

It’s official—I don’t know what’s gotten into Jordan.

But the past week, he’s leaned hard into the fake husband role even more than the best friend role. Though come to think of it…

It doesn’t feelfake.

The flowers he left on the kitchen counter Monday with a sweet note didn’t feel fake.

The picnic he surprised me with at our special spot during lunch on Wednesday after cosigning loan documents at the bank didn’t feel fake—especially when he casually took my hand as we ate and I told him about my fears and worries in taking over for Marla…and he reassured me that I had exactly what it took to do this and do it well.

As for the foot rub he’s given me every night as we watch a different romantic comedy—many of them about friends who decide to date? Those haven’t felt fake either.

And then there’s the way we’ve slipped into a routine every evening of going to bed at the same time and talking until one of us (usually me) is yawning.

Every morning, somehow, I wake up in his arms.

It’s driving me crazy. Because it can’t all be in my head, right? Things have felt different between us since he came home from a run last weekend.

Sure, some things are the same as they’ve always been—like how he seeks me out just to tell me something funny that happened at work that day, or to ask my thoughts on the latest kids’ TV show and whether it’s age appropriate for Ryder.

But there are these little touches, little gazes he’s given me, little ways our interactions strike a match inside me, leaving me warm and buzzing. It feels like things are shifting.

And I’m not going to lie—that still scares the sugar out of me.

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