Page 34 of Wanted You More

The information makes her stand a little straighter. “You really think they like me?”

She obviously doesn’t know them very well yet. Then again, who knows if she’s even met Elizabeth and Ben. I don’t know what an appropriate timeline is for meeting the parents. “I know that Noah wouldn’t date somebody that they didn’t like.”

Her smile softens as she glances down at the ground for a second. Clearing her throat, she lifts her gaze back to mine. “Well, thank you for telling me. I…I needed that if I’m being honest. Sometimes it’s hard to read Noah.”

I almost snort in amusement because it’s never been that difficult to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling. Then again, it’s usually irritation he’s feeling whenever I’m around, so it doesn’t take much to read into. “I think that’s most men,” is all I say, not that I’d know.

Bailey accepts the answer regardless. “I still want to get you the boots. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends. Plus, I’ve always wanted a little sister I could do fun things with like shopping. I’m stuck with an older brother who mostly just torments me whenever he feels like.”

The information dump makes me a little squirmy. Maybe she’s just an extroverted person. In some ways, she reminds me of Marybelle. It makes me miss my best friend, who’s only reached out once after finding out I’d gone to the hospital to see if I was okay. Nothing besides a few looks in my direction at school since.

I would never have expected Noah to go for a type like Bailey because he’s so…him. I’ve seen how he reacts around people who won’t shut up. He gets as annoyed as I do.

Bailey’s expression turns pleading, her bottom lip sticking out as her eyes round. “Pretty please? It’ll be a fun day! Unless you have somewhere else you have to be? I don’t want to keep you.”

She’s giving me an out. One I could use.

As uncomfortable as I am, I can’t seem to tell her no. I don’t know if it’s because she’s got the puppy dog look down or because I’m turning into a pushover. Whatever the reason, at least it’ll get me a new pair of boots and brownie points with Noah whenever I do something to make him angry again.

“Okay,” I relent with hesitation, gawking at her when she does an excited jump before looping our arms together.

She tugs me toward her. “Do you want to go in here and buy the sweater before we head to the shoe store?”

Nibbling my lip, I eye the sweater again.

It’s been a while since I’ve bought myself anything because I’ve been saving up for the holidays. And pink was Mom’s favorite color on me. Almost every picture of me in the old photo albums in the living room is of me wearing some shade of the girly color.

It’s not often I wear it because Dad usually comments on how much Mom would have loved it. There’s usually pain in his eyes whenever he sees me in it, so I learned to avoid the color.

But I miss it.

Like I miss her.

So, I tell Bailey, “Let’s go in here first.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ever since myfainting incident at Sips, I haven’t been allowed to work a shift on my own. Not even on days that are bound to be slow. But I suppose I should be grateful that I wasn’t fired for making them close early after I was taken to the hospital. Although, I think they could get sued if they fired me for that, so maybe it wasn’t out of the kindness of their hearts.

Still.

It makes for long shifts when there are barely any customers and nothing to do but stare at whoever is working with me. Which is currently a very unenthusiastic Marybelle.

“Are you seriously still mad over our fight in the car?” I ask the blonde after thirty minutes of awkward silence. She’s spent it filing her nails and blatantly ignoring me. “You’ve never been this angry before.”

Well, that’s not true. She’s been angrier at other people for a lot longer than this. Her Dad being the number one offender when she doesn’t get her way, her Uncle Mark because of some birthday trauma that happened almost a decade ago she still won’t tell me about, Cheyanne for a million reasons, and that girl from Ulta who accused her of shoplifting. I’m pretty sure Marybellehadstolen something from there, but not during that shopping trip.

She lowers her nail file and glances over at me. Her face is neutral when she says, “I’m not mad anymore.”

I stare at her in disbelief. I can count the number of times she’s actively tried talking to me on one hand since our fight, and I’m pretty sure the only reason she reached out after I passed out here is because she felt bad for ditching her shift.

“If you’re not mad, why are you still giving me the cold shoulder?” I doubt. “I tried talking to you at your locker the other day and you practically bolted in the opposite direction.”

Marybelle sighs. “I was late for math.”

“You hate math.”

“But I like Mr. Canon,” she replies slyly, giving me a look of the friend I’ve missed talking to. It doesn’t last long before she slips back on that mask of cool indifference. “It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

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