“Cooper is helping you find a boyfriend.”
Meave wipes the paint off with the sleeve of the flannel tied around her waist.
“That isn’t the same. We never dated, and we aren’t friends.”
“Dating. Being infatuated with each other from the ages of six to sixteen. Tomato, to-mah-toe.”
“Literally no, Meave.”
She blows out a very older sister breath. “Whatever. How is your tutoring going?”
“Good.” I think.
My sister picks up her phone, bringing it closer to her face as if she’s trying to examine me through the screen. “Sutton Davis, are you blushing?”
I touch my cheeks. Warm and tingling like a bag of Pop Rocks.
Yes. “No. Sunburnt from a run this morning.”
“It rained.”
“Stop stalking me.”
“Never. I’m your older sister and I have the right to do whatever I want.”
“You aren’t my sister. Kidding,” I say when she drops her blue eyes, all cat-like. “Cooper is actually picking me up tonight for our next lesson.”
My phone pings.
Cooper
I’ll be there in twenty.
Is that enough time?
Should be.
“I’ve gotta go Meave. I need to get dressed, and I have zero clue what I’m going to wear,” I groan and flash the camera down at my body—warm and wrapped in a fluffy robe.
“Wait. You’ll never guess who I saw when I was home last weekend.”
“Who?” I rummage through hangers, my I-hate-everything-in-my-closet mood not helping.
“Izzy and Dylan sharing a hot chocolate. And I meansharing.”
“Drinking out of the same mug would be rather impressive.” The sarcasm leaks through the phone.
“Hekissedwhipped cream off her.”
I pull out a polka-dot sweater dress and switch my phone to the other ear. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Seriously?”
“Meave, I’ve really gotta go. Cooper’s on his way.”
“Text me after, or I’m calling Cooper,” she says in a rush as I hang up.
I take a slow inhale. My high school best friend and my ex-boyfriend dating, or whatever they’re doing, isn’t what bugs me. Probably should, but it’s the reminder of more people who make dating and love seem easy.
