Page 8 of Love Unexpected
“Come on,” I said, my tone flat. “You know me better than that. But Iamgoing to send him a message. I think.”
Marley was silent for a beat. “What kind of a message?”
“Some Red Renegade artwork I did a hundred years ago. That part doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m doing this. I’m reaching out. I should, right? This is a good idea?”
“Absolutely, this is a good idea. Still no in-person interactions?”
I sighed. At least Marley’s tone was free of judgment. She really did know me better than anyone. She’d lived with my family for the last three years of my high school experience and she’d witnessed the extent of my anxiety firsthand. She’d never push me.
“We talked about sweatshirts earlier this week.”
“Well that’s...something,” she said.
“Sure. I turned tomato-red and told him the crewnecks were ready for lift-off. He told me I looked a little flushed and asked if I was working too hard.”
Marley chuckled. “I mean, it could have been worse.”
“True. We could have been talking about theRandom Iboxer briefs that are for sale in the store. They have his face on them, Marley. Can you imagine?”
“I absolutely can. I bought Shiloh a pair for Christmas last year. They are totally ridiculous, but he loves them.”
“How is Shiloh? I miss him.”
“Grouchy. I swear the kid is eleven going on seventeen. He’s more like a teenager every day.”
“I can’t even believe he’s eleven.”
“Me neither. K, I gotta go in just a sec. But first tell me how much time you’re spending doing your visualization exercises.”
I rolled my eyes and dropped back into the chair. “Please don’t start talking to me like my therapist.”
“Oh, come on. You know they work. The more you practice, the less awkward you’ll be when you talk to him again. Then you won’t have to hide behind Instagram messages.”
“I’m not hiding.”
Marley didn’t respond, but her silence was plenty of accusation on its own.
“Fine. I’m hiding,” I said. “But it still might work. You know how funny I am when we’re texting.”
“Yes. A real riot. Come on. Let’s practice. I’ll do one with you right now.”
“I thought you had a meeting.”
“I can be five minutes late. Let’s pretend...like you’re talking to Isaac about the boxers he sells in his store.”
I scoffed. “That is a conversation that will never actually happen.”
“You never know,” Marley said. “Besides, talking about underwear has to be as awkward as your occasional run-ins at work will get. If you’re prepared for that, you’re prepared for anything.”
I huffed, glancing over my shoulder one more time to make sure I was still alone. “Fine. We’re talking about underwear. You start.”
Marley cleared her throat, dropping her voice an octave to sound more like Isaac. “Hey, Rosie. Are the boxers up on the site yet?”
“They are. In ten different colors. Everything is ready to go.”
“I’ve heard they’re pretty comfortable,” she said. The inflection in her voice actually sounded a lot like Isaac. Though, as big a fan as Shiloh was, she’d probably heard dozens and dozens of Isaac’s shows playing in the background of her life. “And hey, look at that,” she continued. “Five-thousand five-star reviews.”
“Amazing,” I said. “How does it feel to have five-thousand people sleeping with your face on their junk?”
