Page 104 of Green Flag
She shrugged it off. “Talking of boyfriends…So, you know Jordan…”
“I do,” I said. “But get Luca up to speed.”
Jordan had been our topic of conversation most nights in the last two weeks. He was a new boy at her school whom she was crushing on badly, to the point that she’d checked their star signs’ compatibility. Not that she’d tell anyone else that.
“He’s invited me to stay the night.” She said and raised her brows, pursing her lips in excitement.
“Fia, no. Nope. You’ve known him for a month. Give it more time—”
“But what if he doesn’t want to wait and finds someone—”
“Then he’s not worth it in the first place,” Luca said, his voice vibrating through my back. “If he loved you, he’d wait.”
“I don’t care about love.”
“You should,” he said, stroking my shoulder.
Oh, I was too drunk for this. Far, far too drunk for this.
“I think we can have a more productive conversation tomorrow,” I told her, trying to rapidly blink out the alcohol that was clouding my judgment. Normally, I would reason with her instead of going into mother mode. “When I’m less drunk and less reactive. I’ll hear you out, but for right now, whatever advice you need from me is limited.”
She grunted and rolled her eyes. “I thought you’d be more open-minded drunk.”
“I’m really tired,” I admitted.
She pouted in mock sympathy. “Aw, no massage for Luca tonight?”
My face heated. Oh no, no, no. She wasn’t about to—
“What?” Luca chuckled, leaning in to narrow his eyes at my sister. “Massage?”
“She’s been watching YouTube videos on how to give massages, and I bought her a course for Christmas,” she said really quickly. “Because she hates you getting massaged by that other lady. Bye!”
And she hung up and left me staring open-mouthed at my blank screen.
Oh no, she fucking didn’t.
Luca cocked his head to the side, looking at me, his bottom lip no longer visible as he bit it into his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” I said, putting my phone under the pillow but really wanting to suffocate myself with it.
I uncracked the bottle and guzzled the ice-cold water, refusing to look at him, but I could feel him looming over me, waiting for an answer.
“Everly,” he said and gently pulled at my shoulder to face him. “You’re jealous.”
I crossed my arms. “Definitely not.”
“A massage course?”
“It’s a good skill to have,” I snapped, putting the bottle back on the side with more force than necessary.
“It’s a specific one,” he countered.
I turned and he was looking at me with a soft, thoughtful expression.
“I might not like the thought of another woman getting all up in there,” I said and waved at his exposed, lean, drool-worthy chest. “When you’re meant to be mine. I thought it could be a bonding moment to make us seem a bit more believable.”
“You don’t think we seem believable?”
