Page 39 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“Weird? Why would that be weird?”
When he shrugged and looked away from her, she asked, “Are you acting all awkward because you asked to see my princess bed?”
He swung his gaze to meet hers, and she noted a flush on his ears.
“Seriously?It’s only a bed, Andy Cakes.” But her heart started hammering. Had she been right the other night? Had he been thinking about her in a weird way?
If so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. They’d been friends forever. He was not going to mess it up by turning all guy on her. Not Andy. She set her beer aside and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the chair.
“What are you doing?” he cried as she led him out of the kitchen, back through the parlor, and down the short hallway on the right side of the house.
“Getting this whole bed thing out of the way,” she said, ever rational.
“Come on, Lucy,” he responded, tugging on her hand. “I don’t need to see it. You’re embarrassing me here.”
“You’re making too big a deal of it,” she said as she hauled him into her room. Haul was a strong word. She was too weak to haul anyone.
“Nowyou’rebeing weird,” he said, forcing her to a halt in the doorway.
Yeah, she was, but she wasn’t going to allow any weirdness between them. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, sweeping her free hand across the room. “One antique brass princess bed.”
“Great!” he said, his cheeks flushed now. “I’ve seen the bed. Can we go back to the kitchen, please, and drink our beers?”
Teasing him was too fun to pass up. She let go of his hand and ran across the short expanse of the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. She jumped on the bed, careful of her mending back, and gave it a gentle bounce, making it squeak.
Andy looked like she’d doused cold water on his face.
“Mom discovered how noisy the bed was, of course, when she helped me put on the linens.”
“You’re going out of your way to embarrass me,” he told her, pinching his nose. “I’d forgotten how much you loveto do that. What are the scarves for?” He pointed to the row of scarves she’d arranged over the brass footboard.
He was trying to change the subject. “To monitor any change in my color vision. Dr. Davidson suggested I buy different shades of the color spectrum so I could monitor my progress at home. They have a retailer they recommend to patients around the corner from their office. The store person helped me select the right ones after my appointment.”
“That’s a great idea,” he said, zeroing in on the scarves, all professional now. “What color is this?” he asked, pointing to a red one.
That did it. “Don’t go all doctor on me. It’s weird!” she ordered, bouncing again to draw his attention away from the scarves, sending another squeak through the air. “We’re friends. There’snothingweird about seeing my bed. Heck, in high school, you used to sit on it with me and do your homework. Or have you forgotten?”
Now his whole face was flushing. “That was a long time ago.”
And they hadn’t been two consenting adults then, some distant part of her mind insisted.
She narrowed her eyes at the thought. Who was getting weird now? “Did you ever think of me as a girl back when we were listening to the radio on my bed or sharing the answers to Mr. Tarleton’s horrible math homework?” Like a boil, this whole weirdness needed to be lanced. The direct approach was the best approach.
He put his hands on his hips and kicked at the worn blue wool rug covering the oak floor. The silence stretched between them, making her nervous.Oh, no, she thought. He reallyhadthought of her that way when they were hanging out in her childhood room. More often that she’d imagined.
“I was a guy,” he finally said, lifting his shoulder. “Correction. Iama guy. We have strange thoughts when it comes to girls and beds. What can I say?”
For the life of her, she didn’t know.
“Why are we having this conversation?” he asked in an aggrieved tone.
“Because you got all weird on me,” she said, regretting she’d taken it this far. “It scared me. You’re my best friend, Andy. My oldest friend. Don’t get weird about my princess bed.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “I won’t get weird. I promise. You’re my oldest friend too, and I…I’m glad… Crap. I need to say it. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me with kid gloves anymore.”
She inched to the edge of the bed and wrapped her hands around the brass footboard. There was something in his voice. “Kid gloves?”
“I like that you’re not afraid to call out the weird, the awkward, the tough things in life,” he said, rubbing his brow. “You never shy away from anything, Lucy. And since Kim died, you’re the only person who really listens to me and puts the tough crap on the table.”
