Page 25 of Things I Overshared
“You know how I am. I like to have options.”
She points to the corner of my bed. “What’s this pile?”
“Unpacked after I found out he likes yellow.”
She starts to scold me. “Sam. I thought you said he asked for a truce?”
“Correct, and it is no longer my life’s mission to make him miserable, but I’m not going out of my way to bring him any joy, either.” She grunts at me, but I don’t understand why. “What?”
“You will, though. You’ll find yourself being nice and doing things he likes, taking care of him and making him laugh—it’s just your nature.”
My head rears back. “Huh. A lot of good it’s done me so far. The man cannot stand me. I literally haven’t seen so much as a grin.”
“True. And you can’t standhim.So . . ." Nicole rubs her hands together, plotting. “Let’s forget him and talk about Chase.”
I squint at my friend. “You mean when I get back? Because I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’m not going out tonight, if that’s where you’re going with this.”
“Where I’m going is that you guys could text while you’re away, get to know each other as friends first, with no physical stuff or dating on the table. Might be the perfect scenario for you right now, after . . . everything.”
I tense up at the thought of all she’s not saying out loud. I try to shake it out of my shoulders. “Eh, I’m out of the game.”
“These don’t look like the undies of someone who is out of the game.” She raises her eyebrows along with one of my matching thong and bra sets.
I snatch them from her hands. “Those are my power underwear sets for meetings! I’m on the sidelines of the dating scene, officially. I think it’d be better to take these few weeks to be on my own than to be calling home and penpal-ing the whole trip.” I wonder for a second if Emerson will be calling and texting with Miranda the Fashion Model. I remind myself I don’t care. But . . . what if Emerson thinks I care?
“Wait.” I drop the panty set, my heart spasming. “You don’t think that Emerson thinks that this whole friend thing has been a ploy to get in his pants, do you?!”
Nicole laughs. “Doubtful. Anyone who’s been around you longer than five minutes knows you are flirty with everyone.”
“I am not f—” I cut myself off. “Yeah. You’re right. I am!” I shrug, and we laugh together as I move all my clothes from the bed to the suitcases.
Chapter 7
“Holy crap balls, that’s heavy!” Skye pants as she grabs my backpack from behind the passenger’s seat of Matthew’s Tesla.
“I feel like you packed a little light, Sam,” my future brother-in-law says with his cheeky smile as he surveys my two massive check-on bags, large carry-on, and backpack the size of a small bus.
“It’s over a month! Lay off me, Runny Monkey!” His expression flattens at the use of his college nickname, a play on Chunky Monkey, the disruptive smoothie he had right before going running across the University of Texas campus. Skye told me the hilarious story in disgusting detail.
“I still cannot believe you told her.” He growls at my sister, who is avoiding eye contact with him.
“I tortured it out of her with threats of large crowds and long conversations,” I tell him. “And I promise, again, not to tell anyone . . . probably.”
“She does not get to be a bridesmaid, Tiger, I forbid it.” He sighs with a smile, calling my sister his sweet nickname for her. Skye sighs. I sigh at them both, happy for them and deeply jealous too. I’m not above admitting it. I want what they have.
I want what my parents had. The fact that my logical mother had such a whirlwind romance still floors me. Maybe I want the dramatic love without the drama. Eh, who am I kidding. I want the drama too. I want the longing, the words, the romance, the happy ending.
Someday.
Years from now.
After I’ve recovered from the last year.
And the years before that, if I’m being truthful.
Skye brings my thoughts back to the present.
She takes me by the shoulders. “This is your dream trip, Bob. The work stuff is in the bag. I’m not even going to pep talk you about that. It’s Europe! You enjoy every second of it, no matter what Mr. Clarksicle does or says or thinks, okay?”
