Page 17 of Hot Mess Express
“Juni, gross.”
She eats some anyway, then pokes at the corner of her lips where a dot of chocolate sticks, guiding it daintily to her mouth. “He didn’t seem like a bad guy,” she says. “Even called me ma’am.”
I suppress a growl of frustration. “Juni, he’s fuckin’ crazy.”
“So am I.”
“And he’s a snob. You see how he just waltzed right up to that jukebox and … and changed our music like he owned the place? I should’ve stood my ground right away and not let him. You were playing your favorite song.”
“I was looking for ABBA.”
“We’ll play you all of the ABBA you want next time, all of it,” I promise her through a mouthful of ice cream, “every dang song in the world if you want.”
“Do you think something’s wrong with you, too?”
I lower my spoon. “What do you mean?”
“That Angela lady didn’t seem to like you very much. Is she an ex-girlfriend of yours?”
“Ex-girl—?” I nearly spit out my ice cream in laughter at that. “My only serious ex doesn’t even live here anymore. Jazzy was her name. And we weren’t even all that serious, back in high school. Became my prom date after dumping someone else, it was this … this big stupid thing.” I rub my head. “I need a haircut. Should hit up Cale & Edison’s one of these days.”
“You don’t have a lot of friends here.”
I snort. “There are a few good ones here. Cole and his special guy. Dean … though he’s movin’ to Austin any day now to be withhis gal.”
“Those were the other guys in the bachelor thingy?”
“Yep. Some fine men, they are. But I can’t keep goin’ over to Cole’s place just to cuddle his doggy Porridge. He n’ his boyfriend are probably sick of me. I don’t blame ‘em. Few good guys I know here, they’ve already got special people in their lives. No room for me.” I stare down at the ice cream, spoon clutched in my fist, lost in thought. “Doubt they think about me much at all.”
“That sounds sad.”
“Nah. I’m happy for ‘em.”
“But where’syourspecial person, Anthony?”
I look up from the ice cream at her. “Where’s yours?”
She blinks her huge lashes, like she forgot she exists at all. Her face goes funny. Then she smiles. “Maybe we should go back to the Tumbler place. The military man might still be there.”
There’s no use with her. Once she’s fixated on her newest hot guy in town, she won’t shake from him. It just so happens that her latest fix is a jerk I can’t stand. I wish I could get her mind back onto Tanner Strong, the man she thought was the “hunkiest hunk of hotness she’s ever seen” in her precise words when he dropped in here a couple of Saturdays ago to pick up an order for his mom, the mayor. It didn’t seem to faze Juni that Tanner has a husband, the two of them being the men who own this ice cream place. T&S stands for their combined last names—Tucker-Strong.
“We’re not goin’ back to Tumbleweeds,” I say, “and I think it’s best you get that man outta your mind. He’ll be gone soon anyway. Just passin’ through, he said so himself. I bet he’s outta here first thing after Reverend Trey’s sermon in the mornin’.”
“My daddy always said God’s for wiping away Saturday night’s sins and not much else.”
I smirk. “Guess we’d better sin some more before morning’shere, huh?”
She laughs. “You’re so funny.” But her eyes drift toward the window, as if her dad’s standing right outside, staring at her with disapproval. I’ve never seen him before, so I just imagine what he looks like: grumpy and terrible, undeserving of a single dollar she won in that lottery. From what I understand, Juniper comes from next to nothing—a lot like me. She doesn’t know what to do with money. It’s like a cat toy falling from the sky—or a million and a half toys, more like—and she’s already bored of batting at them.
I guess neither of us are up for more sinning tonight, because barely twenty minutes later, we’re already back at her place. She’s crashed next to me on her king size bed, all the lights left on, not even bothering to get under the sheets, her fluffy pink comforter swallowing us both up in its squishy silkiness.
One of her fuzzy pink throw pillows is wedged under my neck, and despite my own demand of her to get that military man outta her head, I can’t seem to get him out of mine.
No matter how good showing him up felt.
No matter how satisfying it was to see his face go red.
All I feel when I think about that uptight man is frustration. I don’t know what I expected, either. Was he supposed to apologize to me? Tell me he felt bad about the gas station thing? Kneel and beg for my forgiveness?
