Page 60 of Friendshipped
“Yep. Put that in your record books. I think I may not even date anymore. These matches seem to be getting progressively worse.”
“You can’t give up on finding romance,” Trevor says with that puppy dog look in his eyes. “What will we do for entertainment? And besides. There’s bound to be a man out there who will love you well … and not wear parachute pants or want to bring you home to meet his macaw on the first date.”
“It was a parrot.”
I shake my head remembering Hanka Loompa vividly. I mean there’s an appreciation for MC Hammer, and then there’s takingcan’t touch thisto a whole new level ofdon’t touch this.
“Thanks, Trevor,” I say. “Give me a few days to recuperate—or weeks.”
“I’ll give you all the time you need,” he says.
If only he meant to give me enough time so he would see me as more than a friend. But, obviously there’s not enough time in the world for that.
20
Lexi
Laura and Shannon and I are hanging out at my house this morning. Laura just finished a haircut at the Dippity Do. In a little while the three of us are going to meet up with friends at the reservoir. Trevor’s mowing the yard as per his usual Saturday routine. Things feel back to normal despite Meg moving back to town.
“So, any word on Trevor’s date with Meg last weekend?” Laura asks.
“I haven’t talked to him about it.”
Shannon says, “He took her to steak.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Bordeaux,” she says, as if that’s an answer itself. And, it honestly is.
Nothing interesting goes on here without most of the town knowing about it within twenty-four hours or less. And young people dating tops the interesting list, especially if the date happens to be between two hometown sweethearts who dated in high school and haven’t seen one another in five years.
“Steak,” Laura says with a low whistle. “Not burgers? Steak. Okay, then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Men take women to steak when they want to get serious. Burgers say, ‘Hey there, friend. Let’s hang out like the guys and I do,’ whereas steak says, ‘I’m into you and I hope I get a little action at the end of this expensive meal.’”
“You’re officially ridiculous,” I tell Laura.
But, in my heart I know steak is serious.
Trevor’s at steak level with Meg.
He and I eat pizza and burgers.
“Ella Mae came in for a cut this morning before I came over,” Laura says. “And she said Jed said Meg and Trevor looked cozy together. Meg had her hand on Trevor’s forearm during dinner.”
“Oooh, the forearm touch,” Shannon adds unhelpfully from her place on my couch where she’s flipping through a tabloid she brought with her.
“That’s Meg,” I say. “She’s always been the one chasing him like a dog runs after the mailman.” Despite myself I ask, “What else did Ella Mae say?”
“Just that Trevor drove and picked Meg up and when she talked to Meg after the date, Meg said she’s feeling good about her chances with Trevor.”
Ella Mae is Meg’s closest friend in town. She isn’t really in our friend group for various reasons. If anyone would know the lowdown on Meg’s date with Trevor, it would be Ella Mae.
I don’t need to hear this. No one in this room knows I feel like someone’s taking my heart out and doing an Irish jig all over it, and not in a good way. Not that there’s a good way to stomp out a folk dance on someone’s vital organs.
“Well, time will tell,” I say in the most nonchalant voice I can muster.
