Page 43 of The Hookup Situation
“We’re being surveilled,” I say.
“That’s Craig’s aunt. Mrs. Mires.” She doesn’t even look to know who I’m talking about. “She’s been his spy network since I moved into my neighborhood. Want to give her something to report?”
Instead of waiting for my answer, Julie turns to me, goes up on her toes, and kisses me. Not on the cheek this time. Full on the mouth, right there on Main Street at eight a.m. on a Friday.
It’s playful as she nips at my bottom lip before pulling away, leaving me stunned on the sidewalk.
“There,” she says, satisfied. “That should keep her busy.”
“That was very spontaneous,” I whisper.
“That’s why it’s fun.” She takes my hand. “Come on.”
We end up at the local antique shop because Julie insists my rental needs personality. She makes me buy string lights and throw pillows with bears on them. I pretend to protest as she keeps adding things to our basket, but honestly, watching her light up is worth it all.
“This is perfect to spruce up the cabin,” she says, holding up some vintage coffee signs.
“I don’t plan on being here that long.”
“Might as well make it feel like home while you are though.”
We carry our purchases to the Range Rover, and I realize I haven’t checked my phone in two hours. There are a handful of texts from Asher and three missed calls from Zane. I silence my phone.
“Everything okay?” Julie asks.
“Perfect,” I say, meaning it. “Where to next?”
“Trust me?”
“Always.”
“We need to go on a drive,” she says, and I unlock the door for her to climb in. “Go toward the cabin.”
As we take the second switchback, she directs me to a pull-off on the mountain road, then leads me down a trail. We exit the SUV and hike for twenty minutes before emerging at an overlook that takes my breath away. I can see the entire valley spread out below.
Cozy Creek looks like a miniature town. It’s easy to see where they’re setting up for the festival. Carnival rides, food trucks, the pumpkin patch, and a corn maze. This festival will have it all.
“Is this place secret?” I ask as the breeze brushes against my cheeks.
“It’s nicknamed Make-Out Lookout,” she says, sitting on a large, flat rock. “A quiet place where we can just be.”
I sit beside her, our shoulders touching. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“You looked like you needed it.” She studies my face. “You get this expression sometimes, like you’re drowning on dry land.”
“That’s exactly how it feels.”
“When did it start?”
I know I should deflect, make a joke, keep things light. This is supposed to be fake, but sitting here with her, overlooking this valley, I find myself wanting to tell her all my truths.
“When I couldn’t play hockey anymore, my life changed. Then my sister died, and everything good about our family went withher. She was the glue that had held us together, the one who remembered birthdays and organized dinners and made sure we all stayed connected. After she was gone, it stopped.”
“What did?”
“Feeling. Connecting. Living. I went through the motions of working, dating, and socializing, but none of it meant anything. I’d lost my career and my sister, who was my sounding board for everything. I felt dead inside.”
Julie takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. “And now?”
