Page 58 of Fake As Puck
“Two and a half.”
He laughs. “But who’s counting, right?”
I give him a look that would freeze water, but Colton’s apparently immune to death glares.
“I’m just saying, if I had a girlfriend who looked at me the way Liv looks at you, I wouldn’t be able to go three weeks without seeing her.”
“We’re both busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Life.”
“Okay. You know what I think?”
“I really don’t want to know what you think.”
“Don’t wait three weeks, man. Visit her.” He pats my shoulder. “Get the hell out of the gym before I drag you out of here.”
By Thursday, I’m losing my mind.
I’ve worked out every day this week like I’m training for the Stanley Cup finals. I’ve reorganized my entire house twice. I’ve answered emails that don’t need answering and scheduled meetings that don’t need scheduling.
I’ve done everything except the one thing I actually want to do, which is text Liv and ask her how her week is going.
Because that would be weird. We’re not actually dating. There’s no reason for me to check in on her daily life or care about whether she’s happy or if she’s thinking about me even a fraction as much as I’m thinking about her.
But I want to know anyway.
So I do something that’s probably even weirder than texting her directly.
I call my sister.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Tessa answers on the second ring.
“Can’t I just call to say hi?” I say.
“You could, but you never do. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just checking in.”
“Uh-huh. How are you doing?”
“Yeah, fine. Great. Really good.”
“That’s a lot of adjectives for someone who’s fine.”
“I’m fine.” I chuckle.
“You said that already.”
“Because it’s true.”
“If you say so. What’s really going on?”
I walk to my kitchen window and stare out at the backyard, trying to figure out how to ask what I want to ask without sounding pathetic.
“How’s Liv?” I say finally.
