Page 41 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“I swear, I’m going to put a hidden camera in your purse,” she calls after me as I head toward my room.
“That’s illegal and creepy,” I call back, but I’m laughing as I close my bedroom door.
Thursday morning, I’m sitting at our tiny kitchen table with my laptop open, trying to focus on this police report case study when my phone buzzes with “Mom” flashing across the screen. I glance at the time—8:47 AM, which means she’s been up for at least two hours and has probably already reorganized half the house.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says the second I answer, her voice bright with that particular brand of maternal enthusiasm that means she’s about to ask me a dozen questions I’m not prepared to answer. “Just calling to check in on my favorite daughter.”
I laugh. “That’s overused. I’m your only daughter, Mom.”
“Which makes you even more special.”
Maddie chooses that exact moment to walk past the table on her way to the coffee maker, and because she’s apparently incapable of minding her own business, she calls out loud enough for my mom to hear, “Tell her you’ve beenbusylately!”
My mom’s interest spikes immediately. I can practically hear her sit up straighter. “Busy with what? Is there something you haven’t told me?”
I glare at Maddie, who’s making exaggerated kissy faces at me from across the kitchen. “Work. School. Life. You know, the usual. Maddie’s just being Maddie.”
“Hmm.” My mom doesn’t sound convinced. “You know, honey, it would be nice if you brought someone home for dinnersometime. Your father and I were just talking about how long it’s been since—”
“Mom.”
“I’m just saying. You’re young, you’re in college, you should be having fun. Meeting people. He doesn’t have to be serious. Oh, we could play a serious prank on him. I could get your dad on board, and––”
“Mom, mom,” I chuckle. “I’m not bringing anyone home, but I’m having plenty of fun.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear.”
We chat for a few more minutes about classes and her latest garden project before she finally lets me go. The second I hang up, Maddie appears beside my chair with a cup of coffee.
“So,” she says, settling into the chair across from me. “Cole.”
“What about him?”
“Are you going to see him again?”
I take a sip of coffee to buy myself time. The truth is, I’ve been thinking about Cole almost constantly since I left his apartment last night. The way he kissed me back, careful but certain. How he didn’t try to push for more, just let the moment be what itwas. The easy conversation, the way he made me laugh, the fact that Rex immediately loved me.
“Maybe,” I say finally.
Maddie grins like I’ve just confirmed her favorite theory. “I knew it. You like him.”
“I barely know him.”
“You know enough. And more importantly, he’s not that playboy Liam.”
The mention of Liam’s name sends an unwelcome jolt through my system.
After the call with my mom, I find myself opening my messages without really thinking about it. Cole had texted me a meme about people who cheat at board games, complete with a photo of a cartoon character looking guilty. I fire back a sarcastic reply about sore winners.
One exchange turns into a handful, which turns into an all-day thread that weaves through my classes and work. Quick jokes between tasks, a picture of Rex sprawled dramatically across Cole’s entire couch like he owns the place, a casual “how’s your day?” that somehow feels more personal than it should.
His messages are easy, comfortable. The kind of conversation that makes you realize you’re smiling at your phone for no apparent reason.
But underneath the warm glow of texting with Cole is the persistent buzz of unread messages from Liam that I keep meaning to answer and then... don’t.
Friday evening, I’m in my room attempting to make sense of a particularly brutal assignment when Maddie bursts through my door like a woman on a mission. She’s wearing a short black dress that shows off her legs and she’s halfway through applying lipstick, which means she’s already made evening plans.
“Party tonight,” she announces. “You’re coming.”
