Page 127 of Hot Mess Express
Seal the deal already and make him my dang son-in-law…
We’re back in the car. I reach to turn on the radio and stop. “Bridger …”
“So I was thinking,” he says first, sounding overly excited, a bit jumpy, even, “maybe we could cap off this lovely night with a sweet treat? T&S’s?” He smiles at me. “I know it’s yours and Juni’s thing. You haven’t been in a long time.”
I drop my hand back to my seat. “That place reminds me of us,” I realize.
“Good times with you and Juni, huh?”
“I meant it reminds me ofus… you and me.”
He turns my way. “Oh, really?”
“Yep.” My lips twist into a smirk, remembering it. “That first night when I messed with you over that jukebox at Tumbleweeds. Went straight to T&S’s with Juni afterwards. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.” I meet his eyes. “Even then, even when I hated you, I knew I was done for.”
“Hate is just love with another name, huh?” he teases.
“Somethin’ like that.”
Bridger chuckles, then pulls away from the curb, driving off.
I would be lying if I said it doesn’t instantly bring back a ton of happy feelings and memories the second I’m sitting in that tiny table at the front of T&S’s with a giant Football Sundae Special in front of us—a huge ice cream confection meant for two or more to enjoy, which Billy had temporarily taken off the menu for a while, and only just recently brought back. Bridger and I take turns as we feed each other spoonful after spoonful.
Every part of me is in heaven right now. My mouth, with each taste of this insanely sweet and satisfying treat. My heart, from the hand that feeds me these spoonfuls of perfection. My soul, by the sight of those sweet blue eyes across the table from me.
“You know who should be here with us?” Bridger asks.
His question comes out strangely stiff, like a rehearsed line from a script. I don’t know why that’s the first thought I have. But Bridger is always such a naturally calm guy, I’m instantly aware of when he’s acting different. “Who?”
He pulls out his phone, taps on it, then props it up against the napkin dispenser on our table.
A second later, Juni and Pete appear on the screen, infull view of both us and the remainder of our Football Sundae Special. “Oh,” moans Juni, seeing it, “I can taste that with myeyes.”
“Hey, guys!” shouts Pete.
“Hey,” I chuckle at them, then give Bridger a look across the table. “We just talked to them earlier today. Why are we buggin’ them again? To torture my pregnant friend who’s probably been craving this ice cream for months now?”
“I wanna fuck that sundae,” moans Juni, salivating.
“I just think they oughta be here with us,” says Bridger.
Too innocently.
I’m onto him at once, but I don’t know what for. “What’s goin’ on here?” I notice Juni’s eyes turning sweet. Pete is gnawing on his lip. “The hell’s goin’ on with all of you? Why’s everyone actin’ so dang—?”
Bridger takes my hands.
Both of them.
I stare ahead at him, wide-eyed.
“Anthony. From the moment I came to this town, I’ve been—”
“Here it goes,” mumbles Pete excitedly—and perfectly audible through the phone.
“I’ve been looking for peace. It’s the only reason my neurotic, wound-up, agitated self tagged along with Pete in the first place. Because my life lacked peace.”
“And ABBA,” adds Juni under her breath—again, very audibly.
