Page 71 of My Lucky Charm

My mouth is half-full of fritter, but I get defensive. “No, you talked about this. There are things you don’t know.”

“You were making out with your boss last night! In the parking lot!” Raya says.

“Actually, we don’t know that for sure,” Poppy, ever the voice of reason, says. “Lisa told us that, and she could be mistaken. Not all rumors are true. That’s why they’re called rumors.” She faces me. “So, El. Were you making out with Grayson Hawke in the parking lot of Bianchi’s last night?” Then, her eyes brighten, “And if yes . . . how was it?”

Raya smacks her across the arm. “We are not supporting this, Poppy!”

“Ow! Ray!” Poppy moves away. “She doesn’t have the same kind of job that you do. She doesn’t technically work for him. He doesn’t sign her paycheck. There’s no HR department that’s going to fire her if she gets caught.”

“Actually,” I say, “I think there is. I mean, no one ever specifically said so, but . . .”

“So, it’s true,” Raya says.

Dang it.

“Yes!” I groan and fall back, pulling my pillow over my face. “It’s true.”

“Maybe it’s good,” Poppy says. “He could use some sunshine in his life.”

“Are you kidding?” Raya hisses. “It’s not good. There is only one way this ends—with an unemployed and heartbroken Eloise.”

“Gee, thanks, Raya,” I say from under the pillow, holding up an aimless thumbs up.

“Do you . . . like him?” Poppy asks. “Like . . . like him like him?”

I can hear what she’s not saying. Why would I like someone as awful as Grayson Hawke? Haven’t I learned not to date the jerk?

I toss the pillow aside, rip the covers off and get out of the bed. “He’s grumpy and rude and he grunts instead of using actual words—what’s not to like?” I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of Dr Pepper from the refrigerator. When I crack it open, judgy Raya frowns.

“You’re drinking that?” she asks. “Now?”

I let out an exasperated and melodramatic sigh. “Yes, Raya! Yes! I’m drinking a Dr Pepper in the morning! Yesterday I ate leftover chicken nuggets for breakfast. Is there anything else I’m doing that you want to openly criticize?”

She snaps her jaw shut, and I see Poppy’s impressed face out of the corner of my eye.

I plop down on the bed. “There’s more to the story,” I say. “With Gray.”

Poppy sits down in the chair at my little two-seater table against the bright yellow wall. “So, tell us.”

I take another drink, then cap the bottle. “I actually met Gray before that day at the house.”

My sisters’ confused expressions match.

“We met on New Year’s Eve. In a bar,” I say. “And we kissed.”

They respond exactly how I’d expect them to respond, with a chorus of Why didn’t you tell us? And You kissed a random guy in a bar? And Why did you take the job?

I hold up a hand in an attempt to silence them, but somehow, they get louder. I open my soda and take another drink. Then they start arguing with each other, Raya saying this is the dumbest thing I could ever do while Poppy is saying that maybe they should hear me out.

Poppy pretended to date a stranger in a coffee shop, after all. And look how that turned out. When Dallas went along with it, their love story began—and even Raya has to admit, that harebrained idea wasn’t all bad.

After a few minutes of this, they both run out of things to say and look at me.

“Oh, is it my turn now?” I ask sarcastically. Because I’m the youngest, I’m used to people telling me what to do, but I don’t like it. Not anymore. Nobody else’s opinion really matters here—it’s my life.

But even as I have that thought, I know it’s only partially true. It is my life, but I care a whole lot about what these two think of it. Of me.

“You should know better than to try and keep things from us,” Poppy says after I finally start telling the New Year’s story.

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