Yeah, we do… so what’s the answer to my question?
Dane:
Oh yes… I was trying not to answer your question.
I glance up from my phone, and three pairs of eyes are staring back at me.
“Oh, we are just chatting about work stuff.”
They nod their heads. Faith says, “Well, has he answered your next question?”
“Not yet.”
Dane:
I’m getting in my hot tub. It’s been a long day. You are more than welcome to join me…
I giggle to myself while an audience watches me.
“You can’t keep it all to yourself.” Addison leaves her seat to read over my shoulder. I share everything, so it doesn’t matter.
She’s hitting my shoulder as she says, “He’s inviting you over to soak in his hot tub. Um…you’re going right?”
My head swings so fast I think it might fly off my neck. “Are you crazy?”
“Apparently, I am, since I would absolutely run to my car and drive to his house with an invitation like that.” Addison smiles at me.
“You’re a bad influence on me.”
Her head tilts back, and she belly laughs so loud it echoes through the living room. She can’t stop herself.
Faith says, “You know you’re usually a bad influence on all of us, right?”
I grin because she’s right. “I can’t just go over there. A date is a good next step, not ending up in his hot tub where we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other.”
Lane stands up from her seat and leans her body against mine. “You’re no fun.” She says it in a voice that sounds familiar—mine. It’s my favorite line to my friends. I’m usually the one taking risks and going after what I want. But this…the intenseelectricity in my body when he touches me—it’s different from what I’ve ever felt with anyone else.
Interrupted by my phone.
Dane:
Are you considering my invitation to come over?
Kendall:
Not tonight…but I may not be able to resist if you invite me tomorrow.
The heat rises up my neck, and my cheeks are on fire.
Addison leans over, trying to read my text messages. “Share.”
I do. And I’m wishing the date were tonight instead.
All our bowls are empty; one by one, we get up, rinse, and put them into the dishwasher. Lane walks toward the living room. With our feet scuffing along her hardwood floors, we follow her, and I plop myself down.
I glance at Lane, trying to take the pressure off the text messages and tomorrow night’s date. “What’s it like now that school is out?”
“This past week, I was outside in my chair reading. I’ve also taken a few walks.”
