Page 5 of One Hundred Lights
If I were a better person, I would have seen it happening. I would have stopped it.
But I didn’t. When I had to spot her doing presses at the gym, maybe I’d let a hand linger on her skin. Maybe I’d gazed into her eyes for too long across a table. We never crossed the line physically, not since that innocent kiss decades ago, but I can’t deny my attraction to her had grown over time, even though I hadn’t realized it.
But if it was just a simple attraction, wouldn’t it be gone by now? Maybe it is. Besides smoothing things over between us, I need to know how I feel when I see Britt again.
She’s avoided me for so long, but I know where she’ll be tomorrow night. I can show up to the Idea Garage and she won’t be able to run. And I can do this without messing up things with Chelsea, right?
I squint my eyes shut and picture Britt’s face. She’s beautiful. Deep-blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes, light blond hair she usually wears in a braid or a thick high ponytail. Her smile is sweet and subtle, her laugh loud and contagious.
I miss the sound.
The cold December air slices into my skin as I head out of CrossFit and through the parking lot to my car.
I still don’t know what I feel for Britt. But I need to find out.
3
BRITT
Tuesday, December 12
Only four volunteers have showed up so far, and most of them are terrifying, cliquey PTO moms. Is no one else interested in making this dance magical for their children? Maybe four is enough, especially given that one already messaged me saying three of them volunteered last year and would stop by the school on their way to assess decorations in the storage closet.
“Let’s just give everyone else two more minutes, okay? Anyone want coffee?” I’m lingering in the kitchen while the trio of moms get cozy on the couch, obviously close friends. I vaguely recognize them from previous school events. They are all clutching large Starbucks cups. Another mom, dressed in business casual and with curled hair and full makeup, is staring at her phone at the table where I wrapped presents last night.
The dark-haired mom with a red infinity scarf glances up and gestures to her coffee.
“We’re good.” Then she goes back to her conversation with the other women.
Must be nice. I’m betting none of them developed inappropriate feelings for the other’s husband. Or at least if they did, they knew better than to say anything about it.
A calendar notification pops up on my phone. It’s seven o’clock.
“Okay! Let’s get started.” I move awkwardly to the front of the couch, feeling like I’m about to give a formal presentation. I back up and sit on the single couch chair, facing away from the outside door to the Idea Garage.
“Tell me more later,” the mom with a cute blond bob whispers loudly to a woman with a gray ponytail.
“I appreciate you all joining me at the last minute. As you know, Vicky’s out of commission, so I’m just trying to wrap things up for Friday’s dance.”
“We swung by the school on the way here,” cute blond bob mom says. “I’m Liz, by the way.”
“I’m Sara,” red infinity scarf mom chirps.
“Jill.” Jill swings her gray ponytail and waggles her fingers at me.
Corporate mom pipes in, introducing herself as Grace, barely looking up from whatever she’s been furiously tapping away at on her phone.
“Hi. And awesome. Thank you. I hadn’t even figured out how to get the key to the storage closet.”
“There’s no key. You just have to be brave enough to descend into the high school basement,” Sara says, and the other moms on the couch giggle.
“That feels like a bad idea.” Grace crinkles her forehead.
“Kinda does.” I don’t even know where the basement is, given that Jackson goes to classes across the street in the middle school. “Is everything we need in there?”
“Well. Good news and bad news—” Liz stops talking when a click at the front door distracts her.
I turn my head and a squeak escapes my throat, loud enough that I sense the women glancing at me, instead of the man standing in the doorframe.
