Page 21 of Just Friends

“Yeah it was,” she snapped. “I’m going back to sleep; let yourself out.” She returned to her beddragging the sheet over her head.

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

Crap, he didn’t leave. “Leave me alone.”

“I’ve wanted it to be under different circumstances,” he said, “but don’t think I won’t climb in there with you.”

“Weasel,” she cried and laughed at the noise of his boots hitting the floor; then the blanket lifted. He appeared next to her under the covers in well-worn jeans faded at the stress points and a soft t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and biceps. “What do you think you’re doing? This is the weirdest thing ever.”

“No. What’s weird is why you refuse to talk about some dipshit clown following you.”

She turned from him and shrugged. “You have enough on your plate with the DEA project and all. You don’t need my stupid clown issue.”

“Honey,” he replied, “this isn’t you just freaking out over random clowns. You have possibly the same guy following you, dressed as something you’re afraid of. It is something I need to know. You have a detective at your disposal. For God’s sake, use me.”

She giggled despite herself and heard him smile. “In any way you want,” he said.

“Weasel,” she warned.

“You started it.”

“No, you climbed in my bed.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

???

Hannah and Autumn were already at the restaurant when Rebecca entered to meet her friends for brunch. She took a seat at the table under the watchful eye of her friends. It had been a while since they’d done brunch. Autumn was busy as a working mom and fiancé. Hannah was busy with her new married life. Although, they still probably saw each other far more than functioning adults should.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“So,” Autumn said, “Brandon said you and Weasel were together when you showed up to get the credit card.”

Rebecca buried her nose in the menu. She couldn’t even pick out food before his name cropped up. There had to be some other topic of conversation. “How about starting with, ‘Hey, thanks for showing up and catering a two-hundred-person wedding at a moment’s notice’? Or, ‘Sorry you’re being stalked by a psychotic clown.’”

Autumn and Hannah exchanged glances. “Sorry,” Autumn replied.

Hannah shifted in her chair. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Rebecca lowered her menu and shook her head. “No, but I refuse to live in fear.”

The waiter arrived and deposited three mimosas on the table.

“We ordered for you,” Hannah said. They planned on getting her drunk at eleven a.m. to coax her into opening up about him. They ordered their meals, and once the server went, Rebecca seized control of the discussion.

“You picked out a wedding date yet?” she asked Autumn.

Autumn shook her head. “Work is so crazy. I haven’t had a moment.” She paused and sipped her mimosa. “Although, the longer I put on weddings, the more I don’t want that.”

Hannah’s mouth opened.

“I know,” Autumn answered. “Yours was beautiful and magical, and you cherish those memories.”

“Yes,” Hannah agreed.

“But,” Autumn continued, “I spend all day making others’ dreams a reality, and I’m tired of thinking about it. It’s like if you work in an ice cream parlor, you get sick of the ice cream.”

“Is that true?” Hannah asked Rebecca.

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