Page 5 of Red Flag, Green Light

“Thirteen.”

I stare at my beautiful, bright friend.

Her cheeks flare with color, and she pushes a strand of brown hair that escaped from her elegant bun during herhe’s so cute!tirade back behind her ear. Doe eyes wide and shifting, she murmurs, “I’ve ranked them. It’s rare that Brian blesses uswith so many all at once. But he’s been leading a Countdown to Valentine’s Day celebration at his work!” Joy bubbles through the speaker, light sparkling upon my sweet friend’s face. “He’s so benevolent! Bringing joy to all his coworkers.”

Exiting the Cupid picture, I scroll through Brian Single’s feed and find pictures from aSilly String Extravaganza. He’s clearly taking a selfie, clearly covered in red, pink, and white string, and clearly fake fainting into a grim man’s arms.

The caption reads:My hero.

Brian’s “hero” is closer to my type, I think. Dark, brooding, stern, might strangle you when flirting…

Not that…that is an important trait, or anything.

Let’s just say I’m more a fan of thegrumpiesthan I am thesunshines.

Guiding my attention back to Amelia while she beams pure, unfiltered shimmer, I sigh into a smile.

Okay, fine. I’m pro brooding grump in a significant other. I’m team sunshine all the way where it concerns friends. After all, someone has to look abjectly horrified when I introduce them to my boyfriend.

Assuming I ever get one.

And I probably won’t since there’s a conflict between my type of boyfriend and my type of best friend, while I’m positive that your husband is supposed to be the latter.

When I still lived in the city—and went outside regularly—all the guys who were interested in me were either Honor Society, chess club, genius sweethearts…or absolute jerks. I’m not interested in coddling insecure nerds or pampering narcissists. My desire is very simple, and also incredibly attainable.

I want a bad boy, who’s good, at heart.

Sadly, this is too much to ask for in a world where bad boys possess the same depth of character development as a puddle.

“…he’s just the kindest, sweetest, most passionate—”

“Passionate?” I ask, interrupting nothing I haven’t heard before. “Brian Single is very clearly in love with one thing, and one thing only. Mail. What’s passionate about mail?”

“What’s passionate about—” Amelia’s mouth drops open, and she practically stabs a finger at the camera. “I’lltellyou what’s passionate about mail! Everything! Especially when the envelopes are closed with wax seals. Have you even looked into the code associated with different wax colors?” Dreamily, my dear friend melts into a puddle deeper than any bad boy I’ve ever known. “Imagine if Brian sent me a letter with ablueseal… I would die. Right here. Right now.”

Uh-huh. Sure. Of course. All lovers speak in code. “I’ll be sure to send out invitations to your funeral using black wax.”

Her eyes well. “Would you really?”

“You can count on me.” I can absolutely send out letters for my only friend here in Bandera…attendingthe funeral might be a different story.

All the same, Amelia sniffles. “You’re the best.” She remembers that I am actually, quite presently, dishonoring the love of her life and lifts her chin. “Except when you’re being the worst.”

That is the way of things, I think.

Smiling, I shake my head. “You know you could just…messagehim.”

Amelia squeaks, falls onto her bed, and covers her face. “No, I cannot!”

“You can, though,” I assure her. “You two went to school together for a decade. You skipped grades to stay in the same building with him. You could click that little message button and see if he wants to catch up.”

She rolls over, giving the phone she has propped on her nightstand her back. “Don’t be insane.”

Yes, of course. I’m the insane one, for stating the most logicalcourse of action in the world. Or, maybe, I’m the insane one for having this conversation roughly three times a week…and continuing to have it. To no avail.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” Amelia asks, voice soft, shoulders bunched.

That piques my interest, probably since it’s an actual excuse, not just a flushedno, no, no, I could never ever, ever!Like, you know, normal.

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