Page 35 of Hate You, Maybe
Thanks, man. I’ll update you later. With actual words. Not mime moves. Maybe.
Before heading out, I still need to make one quick call. My mom and dad are probably the last people their age with a landline, an actual phone plugged in right under theirHappiness is a Choicesign. I get why they keep one, though. Always ready for an emergency, my parents. And anyway, they both take hours to respond to their texts. So I try the home phone and get the answering machine.
“Hey, there.” I clear my throat. “Just wanted to tell you I talked to Jo, so I know Dad had a scare yesterday. Would’ve loved to hear that from one of you. But whatever. I’m just your only son. No guilt.” I pause for a “heh” so they know I’m only teasing. Mostly. “But maybe shoot me an update on how you’re doing when you can. I’ll be here at this retreat thing for the next few days, but I’ll still get texts and messages even if I can’t answer a call. Don’t make me worry about you. Which I will if I hear nothing back.” Am I laying on the guilt a bit thick? You bet I am. But I’m also not lying. “Anyway, Dad, stay hydrated. And maybe skip the gardening for a while. I’ll see you on Thursday night for family dinner, and I’ll come by this weekend to help out with anything you need. Love you both. This is Dexter by the way.”
I let out another “heh” before signing off to end things on a positive note.
Happiness is a choice,after all.
But on time is late.
So I’d better get going.
Chapter Ten
Sayla
“All right, folks.” Bob passes out papers to each of the retreat guests gathered outside the office. “Here’s an agenda showing the exact schedule for the rest of our time together.”
Agenda.
At the word, my heart soars. Three little syllables, and my fingers are already itching to attach the sheet to one of my clipboards.
Dexter slides up beside me, holding a sheet of his own. He’s one of the last to rejoin the group, but he’s still on time, so I refrain from being snarky to his face or even judging him silently.
I’d be prouder of my exceptional self-control, except he smells so ridiculously good, I almost start to drool. It’s like he put on fresh pine tree cologne or something. Or maybe he washed his hands with camp soap. I might just be that hungry. Either way, my mouth is watering. So I make a big show of scanning the agenda for the retreat.
“Hmm.” A few of the things on the list don’t sound too torturous. Nature painting, yoga, karaoke. “Oooh.” I do a little triumphant hop. “Trivia! Yes!”
“Don’t tell meyoulike to compete, Kroft.” Dexter nudges my side. “I had no idea.”
“Har har har.” I aim a little scowl at him, completely unmoved by the fact that his entire body just bumped up against mine. “You’re so funny, I forgot to laugh.”
He takes a moment, jaw shifting as he bites back a laugh. “Wow. Sick burn, Kroft. You been holding on to that one all day?”
My cheeks heat up. I mean, the man isn’t wrong. That was about the lamest comeback I’ve ever made.
Note to self: You’re off your game, Sayla. Get back on top of things. Now.
“Let me guess what sounds good to you,” I say drily. “Rock climbing. Ropes course. Nature hike. All the athletic stuff.”
He lifts a shoulder, then drops it. Super casual. “I’m just relieved there’s no horseback riding.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I pretend to gawk at him. “Did the invincible Mr. Michaels just confess to being scared of a little pony?”
“I sure did.” His mouth slips sideways. “I’ve got no problem admitting I don’t want to mount some two-thousand-pound animal I’m supposed to control with a thin rein.”
The image teases a laugh out of me. “Well, I love horseback riding. As far as I’m concerned, the bigger the horse, the better.”
“I guess you win that one, Kroft.” He holds on to his smirk, glancing back down at the sheet. “Other than horses, I’m open to pretty much anything.” He starts naming off a few activities. “Campfire chat. Scavenger hunt. Trail hike. These all sound okay to me. Like I told you before, I’m not a stereotype.”
I square my shoulders. “Neither am I.” Except yeah, I kind of am. I’ve been eyeing Tori all day, making assumptions about her, just because I’m envious of her Lulus and her curves and her … confidence. But she’s been nothing but sweet to me while I’m acting like a jealous girlfriend. I can do better. And I should probably start practicing now.
With everyone.
“Sorry for teasing you about the horses,” I say. “And about the stereotyping. I’ve been kind of a brat today.”
“Today?”
