Page 17 of The Romantic Agenda
“I literally jumped into a lake an hour ago. Being dramatic and giving Malcolm gray hair is my lifeblood.” Joy gestures toward Fox, who hasn’t moved. “I see you must have worked the same magic on him already.”
“Oh no, he’s been gray since high school.” At that, Fox walks out in a frustrated huff and the room is blessed with more Summer giggles. “He’s very sensitive about it.”
In the car, Summer jumps into the passenger seat, immediately queuing up her playlist again.
“Actually, let’s not.” Joy adjusts the mirrors. “I need to concentrate on the directions.”
“Oh sure.” Summer enters the address into the Jeep’s built-in navigation system and puts her seatbelt on.
Joy backs out of the driveway smooth as butter. Once they’re on the road, Joy glances at Summer out of the corner of her eye. She’s looking straight ahead, hands in her lap with a pleased look on her pleasant face.
Agreeing to one-on-one time with Summer wasn’t the worst idea. Caroline aside, Joy always tried to give his partners a fair shot. A blank slate to get to know them. If they weren’t important to Malcolm, he wouldn’t have chosen them, so she’d hoped they’d be important to her too. Eventually.
More than a few of Malcolm’s exes, of which there aremany, were two-faced as hell. That second face never appeared while he was around. Some snapped faster than others. Some hissed the truth at her the moment Malcolm turned away. Some fooled her for an entire year. She’d truly seen it all.
It didn’t help that Joy was petty. She wouldn’t know how to be the bigger person if she took an immersive course on it. The second they acted out of pocket, the moral high ground ceased to exist. Michelle Obama she was not—if they went low, Joy went to hell. Jesus could walk out the pearly gates and down that stairway to heaven and she’d look him dead in the eye and say, “They started it! I’ll stop if you ask me to, but you saw what they did!”
Now or never, she thinks to herself. “So, Malcolm says you met at a failed meetup?”
Summer nods enthusiastically. “I like planning get-togethers and stuff. It’s kind of my thing. I like hanging out, getting to know people. I had a good feeling, so I invited him to my weekly game night. He’samazingat trivia.”
“He does like to know things.”
“And before I knew it, we were friends,” Summer says. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. You know how it is with guys—they’re nice to you until they get what they want and then they leave. And if you’re lucky enough to find someone decent you’re constantly paranoid someone is going to try to steal him away or that he’ll cheat.”
Joy’s hands twitch, but she keeps her eyes on the road. Summer didn’t pull that paranoid line out of nowhere.
“Dating is so stressful. I hate it. I’d rather just be in a relationship because most guys don’t want to be friends if there aren’t any benefits, and then have the nerve to get all possessive anyway.” Summer turns to her with a conspiratorial expression on her face, as if they’re in on a secret together.
That’s... a lot to unpack.
They see things differently, that’s for sure. Joy has no problems making friends with men but she also mostly runs in queer circles, which tend to be a bit more open—and less patriarchal.
Maybe being white, blonde, and small has something to do with it too. It isn’t Summer’s fault that she represents the gold standard or whatever, but the grass obviously isn’t greener. Men must see her and get hit with the atavism stick. SEX! WIFE! BABIES! BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN!
Summer continues, words bubbling out of her like a fountain. “Malcolm isn’t like that, you know? He feels so genuine. What you see is exactly how he is. No pretense, no lying, just a genuinely nice person who caressomuch. We can talk for hours. Hours! I’ve never done that with a guy before. He honestly cares about what I have to say and how I feel. He really knows how to make me feel special. Like I’m the only person in the whole world who matters to him. I’m probably preaching to the choir. You already know that.”
She’s looking at Joy with the energy of a bird perched andready to take flight—with more to say but waiting for Joy to jump in. That’s... considerate. Joy had assumed she was the kind of person who steamrolled conversations, not caring if the other person joined in or not.
“Malcolm definitely feels like he’s perfect. He isn’t. Even I can admit that. But I get what you’re saying.”
“Fox is the same. He’s not as, umm, emotionally open, I guess, but he’s still amazing. He does things without you having to ask and always tries to make people feel better if they’re having a hard time. I’m lucky to have him. Do you know about love languages? I think his is acts of service. I think Malcolm’s is a mix of gift giving and words of affirmation.”
A nagging voice whispers to Joy that Summer really cares about them. She isn’t pretending or trying to endear herself to Joy. It’s honest. Her feelings for them are the real thing.
But then another voice yells,Do not let your guard down! The enemy will try anything!
Enemy.
IsSummer her enemy?
Does she even have to be?
Summer interrupts her thoughts. “Do you know yours?”
“No.” Joy glances at her. “I know what they are, but I’ve never taken the test.”
Wrong answer. Joy basically just handed Summer a loaded gun. They spend the rest of the drive taking the test—Summer reading the questions and Joy answering. When she finds a parking spot near the front of the store, Summer exclaims, “You’re a split between words of affirmation and quality time! Iknewit!”
